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#I have no idea who OP of the other post was that one's on me (and tumblr's search function is kind of shit so I can't find it </3)
hrokkall · 1 year
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Saw a post the other day asking how P03 is able to see; my best guess is something like this.
I actually inspected P03′s 3D model for this which I don’t usually do (and then I proceeded to draw it off-model anyway. Whoops) but even outside of its hypothetical camera-vision, there’s a few other things of note:
P03 seems to have a lot of large vents (or at least things that look like some sort of ventilation/cooling). Two major ones on the chest, three on the top of the head (with potentially another on the side of its head), and one on the underside of its base (though that one might be for the hologram projection it uses to float). My best guess is that it’s because his factory is built right by the water where there would be a TON of moisture in the air. For that reason, some of them have got to be exhausts to make sure all of the air circulating in his torso is dry. That or he just overheats extremely easily I guess, but I’m leaning towards the humidity explanation (or it could be a combination of the two).
Its “eyes” are somewhere on the front of its face; whether it sees through a camera or just through the eyes on the screen via video game magic is up for debate, but it turns to face the player when they stand up so its vision probably isn’t on the sides of its head or something.
Similarly, P03 has some sort of sensitivity to touch (he reacts to Leshy’s hands gripping his monitor before Leshy says anything). I don’t think any “touch sensors” would be externally visible though.
Presumably (based on the ending to Act 3) P03′s head isn’t just a monitor, there’s vital systems in there as well (otherwise tearing its head off wouldn’t do anything to disrupt its upload/its ability to function). My best guess is that his power supply is in his chest so it would be the equivalent of just... unplugging your computer while it’s trying to preform updates.
The wire it uses to connect to the modules to update cards in Act 3 seems to come from either its neck or its torso, but in act 2 it’s very visibly on the side of the head. Granted the act 2 sprites are all pretty different from the Scrybes’ 3D models so that’s not an outlier.
The range of motion in P03′s arm seems pretty similar to a human arm; he has a ball-and-socket joint on the shoulder and a hinge joint on his elbow plus separate segments for the “wrist” and “hand”. The only thing it probably can’t do is twist its forearm.
I don’t have any idea what either of the cranks do. The head crank moves when it changes its expression so it might have something to do with its display, but the arm crank is only shown doing anything on the G0lly Uberbot hologram. My best guess is that P03 used to have a lot more built-in functions but ended up removing them in order to operate faster so a lot of the buttons and switches on it are just vestigial leftovers. (The idea of the arm crank being able to function as a hand-crank motor in a pinch is really funny though. Spin it a few times when P03 is out of power and you can generate just enough battery for it to tell you to fuck off then go back into sleep mode again).
I have no idea how the levitation works either. It’s cool and that’s why it works. No need to get more complicated than that.
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scholarhect · 2 years
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for the record, that “in our future utopian society, we will have a system wherein everyone will do exactly one day of sanitation work each cycle” post is insane, and i wouldn’t comment but i’ve seen it agreed with so many times that i just have to say. guys. hello? this is nonsense. this makes no sense
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vamptastic · 3 months
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ngl, with my bust size and the limits of my location & finances i'm thinking it may be difficult to keep my nips and get good top surgery results. obviously smth to discuss with the actual surgeon. but my actual point here is that ive been looking at the results of people who had 'bad' surgeries (visually, not nerve damage & such) and they look kinda dope. like, realistically i doubt i'll achieve a cis-passing look shirtless, nice to know that even if i end up with 'bad' results it'll still be something i personally find cool & attractive.
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Honestly we really need to stop being weird about older adults who are virgins.
& not even purely in a "I'm sex repulsed &/or ace &/or not into the idea of so I willingly didn't have it" but also in a "I'm 80, I would've loved to have sex, but it takes two to tango & no one wanted to have sex w/ me-" and in a "I'm 60 & I wanted to, but I had anxiety so bad I just didn't put myself in a situation where I could've" way, etc. [But yes also the people who are like "I'm a virgin because I never wanted to have sex"]
Someone made a post about having their 40th birthday & still being a virgin & someone commented about how it was heartbreaking... [The OP talked about all their other achievements they reached & how they were happy - just never had sex btw. They weren't lamenting about how they never had sex]
You don't need sex/sexual intimacy to be happy. You don't need romantic intimacy to be happy. [Obviously having those may add happiness, but like you won't live a sad depressing empty life if you're single forever &/or never have sex]
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fan-art-ic · 6 months
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#i think the reason ive been sleeping so poorly the last few nights#beyond the swelling and pain and post op recovery#...is i am staring at my ceiling imaginig what if a bomb could through at any moment#not literally but just trying to imagine putting on their shoes#and i am just so filled with worry thinking about how many bombs must be raining down. right this second#injuring and murdering buildings. families. entire lineages. the sheer mass destruction. happening. right now. this second.#not quite below my back on the complete other side of the earth#but a bit closer like if i reached a hand off my bed and my finger pointed#and its not just one genocide being carried out there are multiple! genocides! happening! right now!!!!!!!#NOW NOW NOW NOW NOW RIGHT THIS VERY INSTANT RIGHT NOW#and........the people in power. who with a declaration and some phone calls could. can. impose sanctions. pull money. do something#they. re. fuse. to. it makes me sick with rage#and. back to the sleep thing because i started getting riled up and moving my leg and accidentally disturbed my sleepy cat#(sorry jack❣️)#but i am so sleepless just trying to think of how to be proactive around my hometown. a lot of my ideas involve driving and i cant rn#i dont want to get a facebook. i guess i will if i have to but that seems so tedious and gross. i could try nextdoors? or patch maybe...#ik 100% there would be stuff and people in philly i could find. but i hope theres something a little closer to home#and i mean. my area is a really weird mix between SOLIDLY middle class (i do mean 2 cars and vacations) republicans and VERY middle class#(honestly about the same amount of money) gay ally parents and artists and non conservatives#there HAS to be a way to get them#these people. yknow. im much better at talking to strangers than i was and ive learned that mostly people are kind and a lil dumb!#not like a dumbass but most people honestly are not overthinking all the time about everything somehow!#they just think about whats in front of them. if its not in front of them now. how do i get it in front of them?#shut up mitch#right now might be the weed i dont think high thc is good in an indica for me#i decided to do a picture of jack instead of dot dot dotsss bc looking at him makes me feel better
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tropes-and-tales · 5 months
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Dyin' for a Taste
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Day 11:  Face Sitting (Johnny "Soap" MacTavish x F!Reader)
(For the 2023 Kinktober event that I created on my own because I am boring and basic and am trying to keep it simple this year...found here!) 
CW:  Idiots in love; pining; smut (oral, f!receiving); 18+ only.
Word Count:  4096
AN:  This was requested by an anonymous person!
AN2: When I say this is not edited, please know it is NOT EDITED. Full of typos and sloppy typing. Tropes is a fat-fingered old crone.
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It starts with a joke.
The 141 is on a covert ops in the mountains.  It’s cold—the sort of cold that burns, that makes the bones ache.  You’re posted up in a perch, your sniper’s rifle at the ready if shit goes south.  The rest of the team is in the square below, waiting for the drop.
“My bollacks are gonna freeze off,” Soap complains over the comms, and you snort at the whining tone in his soft Scottish brogue. 
“Shoulda dressed for the weather,” you reply.  “Ghost probably has a spare balaclava.”
“And cover this handsome face?”
“Won’t be so handsome when your nose turns black from frostbite.”
You hear the tsch noise he makes over the comms, the very Soap, very Scottish noise of dismissal. 
“You’ll have to sit on my face then, hen, and warm me back up,” he says.
You’re rarely stunned into silence—you and the guys are always making off-color jokes—but when you open your mouth to reply, you only gape wordlessly.  The silence over the comms grows, expands, until Gaz—fucking Gaz—chimes in.
“I think she’s into the idea, bruv.”
And you can’t respond to that fast enough either, which leaves another long beat of silence over the comms, which likely seems like enough of an answer.
-----
The mission goes smoothly.  The team splits up as planned to avoid drawing attention.  You don’t see Soap again until a few days later when you regroup at HQ.
You think, perhaps, that he’s forgotten.  Maybe that’d be better.  You and Soap get along well, and sometimes he flirts with you, but he flirts with everyone.  It means nothing. 
And yet…
And yet, it’s Soap.  You might be able to lie to others, but you can’t lie to yourself:  you’ve spent many a lonely night with your thoughts drifting to him.  Turning him over and over in your mind. 
Soap MacTavish.  Handsome, almost unbearably so.  He could be a cocky asshole, be the sort of man who knows he’s hot and be insufferable about it, but he’s gregarious.  Friendly.  He’s a happy-go-lucky sort of man—or as much as someone in the One-Four-One can be.
-----
“Been avoiding me.”
It’s a statement, not a question.  Soap corners you in the mess hall, his blue eyes peering at you without guile.  He looks almost concerned.
“I haven’t,” you reply.  You try to shift past him, but he puts a hand out against the doorway, bars you with his arm.
“You have.”  He peers at you closer, his blue eyes somber.  “What’s wrong?”
“Why would anything be wrong?”
You thought, perhaps, that he’d forgotten…but those somber eyes crinkle at the corners as he smiles, then smooth out as he schools his expression.
“Maybe you think my offer was wrong,” he says.
“I never said that.”  You duck under his arm, but he lays his hand on your shoulder and stills you again.
“You’ve never said anything about it.”  You don’t look at him, but you hear his gentle snort of laughter.  “Your silence is deafening.”
You feel your face start to heat up because he’s not wrong.  Too much time has passed now to address that moment in the mountains.  You should have said something then, spat out some rejoinder to signal that it meant nothing to you, that it was just another dumb joke between you and Soap.  But something about that dumb joke conjures up the mental image of you and Soap, and your face burns in embarrassment.
So you duck from his light grip on your shoulder and it makes him laugh again, then call out to your retreating form, “the offer still stands, hen.”
-----
A month passes, then another.  You get leave for a few weeks and go someplace warm, a beach with golden sand and soft breezes where you can relax and forget the horrors of what you see every day.
Then you’re back on base, then another mission.  Over and over, the same routine.
Through it all:  Soap MacTavish, the team’s Golden Retriever.  Always with an easy grin on his handsome face, a laugh, a joke.  He teases Ghost, he does a passable impression of Captain Price.  He gives Gaz a hard time about their rival rugby teams, but it’s always good-natured. 
He jokes with you, but that joke—the one about sitting on his face—becomes just a joke between the two of you.  You don’t know if the other men have forgotten it, but Soap only brings it up when you’re alone now.
At the barracks, in the rec room, he’s sprawled out on the couch and half-dozing, half-watching a rugby match.  When you walk past, he notices, sits up.  Beckons you over, tells you to have a seat…then thoughtfully strokes his face with that damned smirk and comically waggling eyebrows.
“You’re a jackass,” you call out as you leave the room, but by now, it makes you laugh…and it lightly stokes that ever-burning flame low in your belly.
-----
Another time, he sidles up to you at the range as you study your targets with their tight formation of bullet holes.  He points out one shot, high in the corner of the paper, off of the concentric circles of the bullseye.
“Missed one,” he says.
You scoff.  “One out of….many.”
He matches your scoff with one of his own.  “Might be losing your edge.”
“I’m not.”  You know he’s winding you up, but that missed shot galls you. 
“Maybe you’re stressed out.”
You set the target down on the wooden railing.  “Maybe you’re stressing me out, MacTavish.”
It’s the wrong thing to say.  His blue eyes light up in glee, and he only gets out the first part of his retort—You know what’s good for de-stressing—before you drop to one knee and start disassembling your sniper rifle, ducking your head and hiding your burning cheeks from him.
“…nothing wrong with it,” he finishes as you shut the rifle’s case, and you realize you’ve missed part of what he’s said.
“There isn’t,” you agree.  You stand up and lean a bit on the courage that sees you through each mission.  You look him square in the eye and add, “but you’re just flirting.”
He gazes back at you, a soft smile on his face, only a little teasing.  “Not just flirting.”
“Sure.”  You roll your eyes.
He makes his Soap-branded tsch sound, then he loops his arm around your shoulders to pull you in close.  He smells like…well, he smells like soap, clean with a hint of something herbal.  It’s nothing he hasn’t done a hundred times—in safe houses after a mission, walking out of a bar on a night out with the team—that companionable way he pulls you against him.
“It makes me sad when you don’t believe me, hen,” he chuckles, and it’s low, right by your ear, his warm breath fanning over you. 
You’re not sure what spurs your next move.  You’re a natural-born sniper; you take the measure of everything around you—the curve of the earth, the speed and direction of the wind—before you squeeze your trigger.  You’re the same with people, cautious and feeling out every angle of their intentions before you make a move.  But you know Soap, and the question around his joke is the only uncertainty.
Something makes you act without much thought.  Your rifle case in your hand, your other hand tucked in your pocket, and Soap’s arm slung around your shoulders…the moment is crystalized, will be an easy memory to recall in the years to come because this is when everything between the two of you changes.
“You know what?” you ask, and you don’t allow him to hazard a guess.  Instead, you gaze at him levelly, straight into those bright blue eyes of his and add, “alright, let’s do this.”
It’s comical, how the smile drops from his face, how his mouth makes a little “oh” of surprise.  His eyes scan your face, quick, like he’s trying to find the joke, trying to find proof you’re just having a laugh at his expense.
“Bonnie,” he starts to say, and his voice has a rough edge to it.  His voice is missing its usual teasing edge, and he pauses to study you.  You don’t know if he realizes it, but the tip of his tongue darts out, licks against his lower lip, like he’s really thinking of it now that it could be a reality.
“Bonnie, are you just…are ye fer real?”  His voice is lower and his accent gets thicker, and it sets a frisson of heat shimmering through your lower belly.
You refuse to blink.  Refuse to look away.  “I’m for real if you are.”
“I was never joking about that.”
“Then I’m not joking either.”  You swing your rifle case towards the barracks, playing at bravery but willing the fluttery feeling in your stomach to calm.  “So let’s go.”
Soap—gregarious, convivial Soap—says nothing else on the walk back.  He keeps his arm around your shoulders, though, and his hand settles against your bicep, rubs you briskly before gently holding you there, like he’s proving to himself that you’re real, that the moment is really happening.
-----
Your nerve wobbles a little when you get back to quarters.  Soap’s nerves must have a similar wobble, because he turns to you and his usual boyish grin is gone, replaced by a grave expression.
“You dinnae have to do this,” he says, “if you don’t want to.”
Part of you wants to back out, chuck him in the arm and say it was just a joke.  You could still back out.  Soap is flirty and gregarious, but hooking up would irrevocably change your easy relationship with him.  It could change the tenor of the team.  And yet…
…don’t you both face death every day?  Don’t you see the absolute worst of humanity?  Don’t your bodies bear the scars of your hard, unrelenting lives—countless scars, visible and invisible both?  Don’t you all operate in your own bubbles of loneliness, sleeping alone night after night but crowded out by the ghosts you all haul around?
Is it too much to ask for even a moment of connection, of not feeling alone?
You gaze back at him.  Sweet Johnny MacTavish.  Handsome but not vain, smart but not aloof, funny without being cruel about his teasing.  Is there anyone you’d rather be with?
“I want to do this,” you tell him, and there’s no hesitation in your tone.  “If you do.  If you really were just joking around, then no harm, Johnny.”
His somber gaze softens at your use of his real name.  “Wasn’t joking at all.”  Then he opens the door to his quarters and turns to you, invites you in with a sweep of his hand, and when you walk past him, he lays his palm on your lower back to guide you.
-----
In truth, you’ve never actually sat on anyone’s face.  It’s one of those funny sex acts that you joke around about but have never gotten around to, like sixty-nine (always seemed more complicated than necessary) or food-play (always seemed too messy). 
Soap, it turns out, has never actually had his face sat on.
And it’s adorable, how he sheepishly runs his hand through the longer stripe of his short-shorn hair and admits as much.
“Figured it cannae be that complicated though,” he says.  He huffs out a breath, and you realize how nervous he must be, and it gives you courage to take charge.
“Kiss me first.  Then we can figure it out from there.”
The tame command makes his face light up and he murmurs, “yes, ma’am” in his brogue, and then he does as you say.
If Soap MacTavish is generally the team’s Golden Retriever, bouncing around with a wagging tail, he kisses with far more finesse.  He cups your face gently, reverently and leans forward, brushes the lightest of kisses against your lips like he’s testing the waters.  Like he’s waiting for you to pull away, and when you don’t, he kisses you again.
It’s awkward at first, but only because you’re both so tentative.  It’s uncharted territory.  He must be aware that you’re crossing a line in doing this, you think, and he must not care either.  But the awkwardness melts away quickly because Soap is a damned good kisser, skilled in how he moves his mouth against yours, his tongue against yours.  One of his hands stays on your face, cupping you gently and steering you, but the other hand touches your waist, your hip, slides around to squeeze your ass gently before returning to the dip of your waist.
He tastes like something warm and spicy, like cinnamon or nutmeg.  Everything about him is warm, really:  the way he cups your face but runs his thumb over your cheekbone, the way his other hand holds you steady as he kisses you.  And the way he looks at you when he breaks the kiss, the almost-shy way he tugs at the hem of your shirt and asks if he can take it off.
He’s warm too—his body, his skin as you bare it with each article of clothing shed.  You strip each other in tandem, and the sight of him leaves you breathless.  He’s like something carved by a Renaissance sculptor, but when you smooth your palms over the dips and swells of his muscles, you find that he’s warm to the touch, wonderfully so, and a wave of lust almost takes you out at the knees by how much you want to feel his body against yours, under you or on top of you, every inch of you pressed against him.
Soap must feel the same way about you—he touches you just as gently as before, almost reverent, but his goddamned eyes practically shine when he looks at you, then groans out, “fuck, but you’re stunning, hen.”
He maneuvers you both towards the bed, and then he stretches out across it, and this is precisely why your sexual repertoire has always been lacking:  when a brutally handsome man is stretched out in front of you like a damned buffet, your mind singularly focuses on one thing, and you rarely remember that there’s other, more adventuresome things you could do.
You’re already turned on.  Ever since the two of you walked back from the range, you’ve been on a low simmer of lust, and the desire has ratcheted up with each kiss, with each little grumbling groan of Soap’s, with each sweep of his big warm hands along your body.
So you’re already turned on, so why sit on his face when his beautiful cock—perfectly sized for you, the ruddy tip already leaking precum—is also an option?
And Soap is no dummy.  He must guess at your internal battle because he says your name softly, pulls your gaze back to his face where he smiles that brilliant Soap-smile at you.
“Alright then?” he asks.  He pats his upper chest.  “You can sit right here, to start.”
It hits you all at once how intimate this is.  Fucking, hooking up—that’s one thing.  But sitting on your teammate’s face feels like you’re taking a further step into the unknown.  Oral sex, to you, is already more intimate than regular ol’ intercourse, but sitting on his face feels…even more intimate.  There’s a lot of trust on both ends:  he has to trust you not to hurt him, not to put too much weight or force on his face or neck.  And you have to trust him too, since you’re basically smothering him you with your pussy, and many men are precious little babies about eating pussy.
“I could just…”  You trail off and gesture vaguely at where his erection strains and bobs against his belly, and Soap snorts before he replies, “we could do both, hen.”
When you don’t say anything, when you don’t move, he adds, “c’mon, sweet girl.  I’m dyin’ for a taste of ye.”
The accent is unfair, you decide.  The accent is not fighting fair.  Soap’s Scottish brogue is charming in the best of times, but his bedroom version is thicker, at a slightly lower register, and it’s entirely unfair.  It easily dismantles the rest of your meager defenses, so you nod and then kneel on the bed.  But when you start to awkwardly clamor on top of him, he stills you for a beat and taps his mouth, says, “give me a kiss first.”
And the kiss is unfair too because it reminds you that it’s just Soap, one of your dearest teammates, a man who often holds your life in his hands and whose life you hold in your own.  His now-familiar taste of spicy warmth on your tongue, and his lips curving in a smile against yours when he whispers, “climb on up, hen  Don’t keep me waitin’ anymore.”
There’s no sexy way to climb on top of him.  Do you just kneel by his chest and throw a leg over him?  Do you straddle him lower and scoot up?  You split the difference, try to straddle him on his lower chest and scoot up, but then his one arm gets pinned.  Any other man?  It might be a deal-breaker being so clumsy, but Soap laughs underneath you—a genuine belly-laugh full of warmth that makes you giggle too.  He wrangles his arm free, then lays both hands on your hips and guides you the rest of the way.
This is unbearable intimate too, being so exposed to his bright blue-eyed gaze. You probably have tons of issues around previous men who didn’t eat pussy, who were grossed out by it, but Soap’s eyes practically glitter black with how blown his pupils are.  His face rarely hides its emotions very well (he’s a shitty poker player), and there’s no disgust in his expression at all.  There’s only desire, naked and apparent.
“Tell me,” he says, and his voice is a low growl that sends that frisson of heat straight to your core.  “Tell me what is working for you, yeah?  Don’t go quiet on me.”
You nod, and you wish you could think of something cool or funny to say, but Soap lifts his head a little and presses a plush, open-mouthed kiss to the inside of one thigh, then the other, where both are splayed in front of him, and before you can even beat yourself up for failing to think of something cool or funny, his mouth is on you in earnest.
Soap, a damned good kisser.  It translates to this, his skilled tongue and lips licking at you, suckling at you, swirling against you before he breaks up the pattern with an outright kiss, then resumes his routine.  He traces the tip of his tongue around the firm bud of your clit, the perfect amount of pressure before he snakes it lower, lapping at the arousal leaking from your entrance.  He’s unabashed about it, groans against your feverish skin, and you love him in this moment—love that he wasn’t joking after all, love that he had led you here, where you sit perched on him while he feasts on your cunt and seems to genuinely enjoy it as he does. 
Any other position, you’d lean down and kiss him, or pull him to you and kiss him.  Now, as he groans against you again, you reach down and run your fingers through the longer stripe in his hair.  He must like that, because he groans a third time, and his grip on your hips spasms tighter.
You remember what he asked of you, so when he purses his lips and suckles against your clit, you gasp out a startled “oh!” but then add, “fuck, Johnny.  Just like t-that.”
“Good?”  It comes out muffled against you, and he pauses his mouth long enough to gaze up at you with a smile.
“So good.”  You shift your hand, cup his stubbled chin slick with your arousal—a gentle movement that makes his smile soften too. 
“Like when you call me Johnny, hen.”  Now he sounds a little shy, like he’s edging close to something beyond a random hookup with face-sitting.
“Keep using your mouth like that and I’ll call you Johnny all the time,” you tease.
“Deal.”  And then he’s on you again, laving your sensitive folds with his tongue, his bit of stubble raising a warm burn against your inner thighs.  His hands on your hips pull you closer, and he encourages the slow, careful rhythm when you start to actually ride his face—a languid back-and-forth, mindful of his need for oxygen, while he eats your pussy with the fervor of a starving man.
Your orgasm approaches faster than you thought; you thought you might have to fake it, since you rarely come from oral alone.  But there’s something about this position.  You feel powerful in a benign way, in charge, but mindful of the man underneath you.  You run your fingers through his hair and Soap preens at the touch, just as he preens when you pant out praise for him, tell him how good you feel. How good he is making you feel.
He must sense it because his grip tightens on your hips, but his tongue moves faster and focuses solely on your clit—teasing with the tip of his tongue, then laving it with the flat of his tongue, then wrapping his lips around it and sucking.
“F-fuck,” you choke out.  “Johnny…fuck…I’m gonna…” but you don’t finish the sentence, you keen out a garble of nonsense as you come.
The heat in your belly pools over, spills over in a brilliant wash that courses through your veins, into your trembling legs and up through your body, makes your vision shimmer and crackle with sparks.  Your heartbeat, your panting breath are loud in your own ears, and you hear Soap groan but he sounds faraway.  He teases your orgasm, prolongs it by licking against you until you grip his hair tighter and hold his head still while you clumsily dismount, then flop gracelessly onto the bed beside him.
You feel boneless.  You feel heavy, sleepy, like you could sink into the mattress and sleep for days.  You close your eyes and feel the bed shift, and Soap disappears for a moment.  You hear running water—he must be cleaning his face, you think—but then the mattress dips again and he’s curling his warm body around yours, wrapping his arms around you as he pulls you to him, then settles the blanket over both of you.
“Good, yeah?”
You laugh.  “Yeah, that was good.  Especially for someone who’s never done it before.”  A beat.  “Give me a moment to catch my breath and then I can help you out.”
Soap chuckles above you, and you feel him press his lips to your forehead before settling again.  “No need.”
“But I—”
“Already came.”
The gears in your head turn slow when you’re sated from sex.  Coming makes you stupid.  “Huh?  When?”
Another chuckle, another kiss to your head.  “When I was eating you, hen.”
You turn your head and try to peer up at him.  He looks comfortable and sleepy too, content and sated.  “Seriously?”
“Mmm-hmm.”
“Wait, seriously?”
“Told ye I was dyin’ for a taste.”  He shifts a little, pulls you closer to him.  He tugs the blanket more securely around your shoulders.  “If ye want a second round, I’ll need a few minutes.”
You appraise the situation:  the warm scent of Soap, the feel of his naked body pressed to yours, the warm little cocoon he’s created here in his bed.  Of course you want a second round, but you’re sleepy too, and the thought of sleeping with Soap doesn’t seem nearly as terrifying as it might have seemed before he had his mouth on your pussy.
“Or we could sleep,” you offer.
“Sleep,” he agrees.  “Round two tomorrow.”
The doubts from earlier start to surface in your mind, but they seem tiny and inconsequential when you’re wrapped up in Soap’s arms.  You feel sleep tugging at you—he’s already asleep, you think, breathing deep and even against you—so you chance to brush your lips against the bit of him you can reach and whisper good night to him.
But he’s not quite completely asleep yet because he kisses you back, another press of his lips against your head, and he whispers back, “g’night, hen.”
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lululawrence · 2 years
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#nonnie with the questions about blogs i ~associate with#the first one you mention that has made those horrific comments#i wouldn't say i associate with them at all first off lol#i don't follow them and honestly i rarely pay attention to who the op of a post is i just focus on the content of the post#so i had no idea they'd said anything like that though a friend had warned me about them just last week due to something else they'd done#so i'd tried to blacklist and filter them so i would be far less likely to accidentally reblog a post they'd created#but i'd misspelled their blogname lmao#so NOW i've fixed that and hopefully will not accidentally reblog anything of theirs in the future#as for the other one#people can like and dislike whoever they want but for me it is about how they behave here#and we've been mutuals since... well it feels like forever now lol and while i had noticed they stopped blogging about him#i also noticed they weren't out there saying horrific things or acting cruelly towards anyone as far as i know#so if they're just quietly not reblogging content about someone they don't care for anymore? that's fine and they're allowed to do that#they also post some content i don't see from other sources so i actually quite enjoy having them on my dash#so since i don't mind having people on my dash who don't have the same views i do as long as they aren't being mean or rude or gross#or at least what i consider to be those things#then i'm gonna keep on following them and reblogging them ¯\_(ツ)_/¯#so i hope that's sufficient to answer your questions xx sorry if it bothers you lol but you can... also choose not to follow me#or you can also choose to use filtering options if you'd like because they're pretty effective these days
0 notes
jewishvitya · 6 months
Text
[This post was originally written in response to someone tagging me and claiming that a free Palestine would mean all Israeli Jews will be kicked out and where will I go, and how they can't understand why I'm so against Israel being our ethnostate. OP blocked me, so I'm reposting with a few edits, because I already wrote this and I might as well.]
Look. I understand your mentality. We're traumatized by a history of violence against us. We were shown that so many in the world want us dead, and so many others won't stop them. I get it. But I refuse to let myself silently become the face of similar oppression for other people.
Israel benefits from antisemitism and maintains myths that got Jewish people killed in the past, like double loyalty. It weaponizes it for propaganda reasons. It's supported by antisemitic Christian zionist organizations with terrifying motivations. It started out with violence not only against Palestinians but against Jews too. Israel isn't motivated by our safety, it abuses that idea. It manipulates and weaponizes our trauma to make us feel justified in causing so much suffering to innocent people.
You're right that I'll have nowhere to go if I'm kicked out of here. This is where I was born. My parents come from other countries that I won't feel safe in. But all of this is hypothetical. The ethnic cleansing and genocide of Palestinians is not hypothetical, it's REALITY. It's happening RIGHT NOW. And I don't understand how, as a Jewish person who knows what this kind of suffering and loss of life means, you seem unable to prioritize that. I tell you I'm witnessing a genocide happening right next to me and you keep telling me "but what if they hurt you instead."
The assumption that Palestinians will pull some sort of reverse ethnic cleansing against us is racist. This assumption is the reason Israel feels comfortable calling the carpet bombing of a civilian population "self defense." Killing them based on a this is not self defense, it's a racially motivated crime against humanity.
And I'm calling it an assumption because I'm not willing to pull from the Hamas charter that they've since replaced. Hamas isn't Palestinians. The only reason they became this powerful is Israeli funding, and Israeli violence giving Hamas free PR as the only ones who will stand up to the state that will keep them trapped and dying.
We control every aspect of their lives. Israel created a place that breeds radicalization. No group of people, living under the conditions forced on Palestinians, would be peaceful. They would fight back. Because peaceful attempts to have the human rights that Israel denies them got nothing. We stomped on every single one. We blocked all other routes and left them with only violence, which Israeli politicians have been using as an excuse for over 15 years to make a show of force with military campaigns whenever they wanted a boost in popularity. We created living conditions with such low life expectancy that half of the population is children because so few adults survive. They don't deserve this. No one deserves this.
Palestine was a land with people living in it. One plot of land can create multiple groups of people, especially when we've been separated for 2000 years. Our connection to this land does not cancel out theirs. Removing them to create our own country could never be right. It's not an argument saying that our connection to Israel gives us the right to move here to live ALONGSIDE Palestinians. That's not what we wanted. We wanted a country that enforces Jewish majority and legally prioritizes Jews. You're justifying this when I repeatedly state that the only way for it to exist is through ethnic cleansing and genocide. There's no way to make this concept into a reality without killing, displacing, and oppressing whoever's left in various different ways, from apartheid to other kinds of discrimination.
I'm not against safety for us. I want to be safe. I want my children to grow in a safe world where we can be openly and joyfully Jewish. I'm not willing to pay for that with the lives and freedoms of other people.
So I will be loud about this: Palestinians deserve to be free in every part of their homeland, even if it's our ancestral homeland too.
If safety for us means we're the ones committing the genocide, maybe we should rethink what safety looks like.
I'm terrified for the lives of millions of people in Gaza. Right now, all I can think about is this, and it baffles me to see people so willing to transfer the horrors of our history to other people.
I had a lovely conversation in DMs in response to the first post, about how zionism encourages us to isolate rather than build bridges in the places where we live all over the world. We can't ignore the way antisemitism saturates culture, but we should also remember the places where Jewish communities thrived for centuries, the places where our neighbors protected us. We're hated, and we're loved. Each form of oppression is unique, so no other group experiences what Jewish people do exactly, but we're not alone. We have a long and rich history of solidarity with other marginalized communities and involvement in liberation movements. We're actively working to make the world safer, and we have people fighting with us. I'm just participating in this fight where I am. The struggle for liberation is a human struggle. You can't use the trauma of antisemitism to silence me about other kinds of bigotry.
Never again. To ANYONE.
1K notes · View notes
marlenesluv · 3 months
Text
Sly Fox, Dumb Bunny. (OP)
summary: being the mclaren admin, you’re quite close with the papaya boys, one more than the other…
note: never had a redhead/strawberry blonde fc, but i love red hair, so this is for all my redhead/strawberry blonde babes 😗 also this seems short :( i’m sorry, ill try to post again in a few!
based on this idea i had a while back -> post link
fc: bella anderson (bellaanderrson on insta)
pairing: oscar piastri x mclaren admin!fem reader
type: smau
warnings: very slight suggestive comment, not bad tho
masterlist here -> masterlist link
^ check my list for all posts! ^
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liked by: oscarpiastri, landonorris, and 89,193 others
y/n.user: media day vibes + a photo kika insisted i include 😐
view comments…
francisca.cgomes: you look so pretty❤️🤗
↳ y/n.user: you looking in a mirror? bc yes you are
f1updates: favorite posts from the best admin in f1 🙏
oscarpiastri: look at me on that scooter
↳ y/n.user: scootah 🦘🇦🇺
↳ oscarpiastri: if you and lando could stop making fun of me now
↳ landonorris: you know we never will mate
papayaedits81: brooo, i love this trio sm :’)
user3: she’s too pretty to be stuck with these men ugh
↳ user6: you mean the hottest men on earth??
↳ user3: they aren’t that hot
↳ user6: *GASP* GET. OUT.😖
mclaren: slay queen
↳ danielricciardo: y/n we know it’s you
↳ mclaren: no…..
.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.
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liked by: landonorris, oscarpiastri, and 372,924 others
mclaren: 🧡💙double podium weekend💙🧡
view comments…
user5: somehow, y/n eats every time with her photos and posts
y/n.user: 🧡🧡🧡🧡
f1edits: y/n commenting on posts she makes is too good
4ln81op: PODIUMMMMMMM LFGGG
user9: WOOOOOHOOOOOOOO
oscarpiastri: cool photos!😎
↳ mclaren: thank you, mr. piastri 🫡
f2postsss: boom, double podium
opfanpage3: oscar looks so good in theseee
papayaboys: love these pics sm!! y/n, once again, you slayed this up
.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.
your instagram story:
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seen by: oscarpiastri, lilymhe, and 82,193 others
.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.
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liked by: oscarpiastri, logansargeant, and 92,203 others
y/n.user: preoccupied🌹
view comments…
f1updatepg: WOAH????
user7: hold up now, pump the breaks. WHO is that man???
paddockposts: y/nnnnn spill who this is????
landonorris: i know something everyone else doesn’ttttttt
↳ y/n.user: lando😳 zip it
↳ carlossainz55: he told me already….
↳ charles_leclerc: lol………..
↳ y/n.user: STOPPPPP
op81: oscar linking but not commenting?? fishy
francisca.cgomes: mwahahahaha i am matchmaker
y/nfanpage7: anyone else thinking it might be a driver??
↳ f1edit0: yea but who? i don’t wanna assume lando/oscar but she is closest to them, yknow?
↳ user4: i was thinking maybe logan idk
.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.
texts with oscar:
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.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.
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liked by: logansargeant, y/n.user, and 368,130 others
tagged: y/n.user
oscarpiastri: i would say she’s judy hoops because zootopia is one of her favorite movies, but she’s more nick wilde 🧡
view comments…
y/n.user: does that make you judy hoops?
↳ oscarpiastri: i’ll be judy if you’re nick, babe
↳ y/n.user: so i’m sly and you’re dumb?
↳ oscarpiastri: sure, but only you can call me dumb bunny🤷‍♂️
↳ pierregasly: y’know hes down bad when he’s into this shit
↳ francisca.cgomes: you’re talking? really
↳ y/n.user: LMAO
f1wags: HOLD UP. WAIT A MINUTE😳😳😳 I LOVE THIS
user5: this is calling me lonely in every language
formulawags7: WOAH keep it in your pants there oscar, talking bout “only you can call me dumb bunny” OK
op81edits: oscar having a gf just makes him more bold and i’m loving it
papayaedit9: they actually are so cute together stopppp
.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.
oscar on a podcast, clip of him talking about you:
(interviews name: matt)
matt: “well, mate. i know we are running low on time now, but we are going to end it off with some fan questions.”
oscar: “awesome.”
matt: “alright, i’m not going to lie, a lot of people are very curious on how you and y/n started dating. who initiated it? how long?”
oscar: “um…yeah. kind of a long story, i’ll make it shot though.” *laughs* “when i came to mclaren last year, i actually had a crush on her and lando found out fairly quick. he started telling me her favorite foods, shows, hobbies, stuff like that. like, for example, one of her favorite shows is pretty little liars, so i binged that whole show just to try to talk to her about it.” *laughs and takes a sip of his water*
matt: “wow, man. thats a lot of seasons. did you at least enjoy it?” *laughs*
oscar: “honestly? yeah…it was quite entertaining. and i got a few conversations in with her about it.”
matt: “that’s really nice, i don’t think i’d have the attention span. now, how long have you guys been together?”
oscar: “well, i announced it last friday, and it’s thursday…probably around two months, i’d say.”
matt: “why did you guys decide to wait a bit?”
oscar: “we were a little worried about what my pr manager would say and we didn’t want either of us to get in trouble. but y/n was mainly worried about the fans. she didn’t want to upset them, but, i don’t really care. i mean, if a fan can’t understand and respect your relationship….”
matt: “then they really aren’t fans, are they? well, you two are absolutely adorable. tell y/n i say ‘hi’ and i send her good wishes for this upcoming year. you guys are the cutest, and i’m sure fans will agree.”
oscar: “thank you, mate.”
.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.
your instagram story:
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seen by: oscarpiastri, pierregasly, and 93,199 others
.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.
(reposts, comments, and likes are appreciated!^-^)
1K notes · View notes
olderthannetfic · 5 months
Note
This isn’t really closely related to fandom but eh. So the Somerton scandal going around—clearly what he did was wrong, he ripped off other creators and essentially stole revenue from them, etc. Terrible stuff, sounds like a terrible person.
But there’s this popular post going around about how OP is boggled that anyone could ever plagiarize because when they went to school their introduction to the concept was being warned that if they ever plagiarized their head would end up on a spike and it’s Very Bad Evil Terrible to ever plagiarize so they never even DREAMED of doing it.
And while I understand and agree that plagiarizing in order to profit is bad. Absolutely. Still—
Did y’all really never plagiarize in school because you were told it was bad? Really?? Plagiarization is one of those cheating tactics that’s actually very useful because you have to rephrase what you’re stealing in order to not get caught and rephrasing someone else’s ideas is an Excellent way to better understand them (and an excellent way to quickly do assignments when you’re struggling with a large workload). Obviously you shouldn’t do it for everything, but it’s not practical to do it for everything anyway because there are plenty of tests where plagiarization isn’t an option. And it’s not good to do it for actual published papers, yeah, but even not for essays? Especially in the lower grades?
Y’all really just…were told by a teacher not to do something and then never once even tried to do it? I thought this was the website where we all at least pretended to question authority!
--
Plagiarism is disgusting.
Anyone who would do it has a weak character.
So no, I have never once plagiarized or even been tempted.
It's not wrong because some petty authority told me it's naughty: it's wrong because it's intellectually dishonest and a person who will allow themselves to be intellectually dishonest once will do it again.
Doing it in high school won't generally hurt other people, but that was never the problem. Same with all other cheating in school. The fact that you would try to defend this is repulsive.
A cheater mindset is what leads to humans like Somerton who fundamentally do not value or grasp the point of actual creativity or integrity.
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thebibliosphere · 1 year
Text
Anyway, @brynwrites also reblogged a very good point on a post which I cannot reblog because I assume OP blocked me, presumably because I am the person they're bitching about because, uh, yeah, I literally can't think of any other book other than mine that has that exact rep, lol.
Not to mention someone specifically calling me out in the notes (:
But I'm feeling petty, so I'm just going to post my response here anyway. Specifically in response to the person in the notes who said they have no idea what my book is about despite seeing it posted everywhere, which tells me one certain thing.
They are not clicking my links.
Like friends, I cannot tell you the lengths I go to so that people can make an informed decision about buying my book and still ask me basic questions which tell me THEY'RE NOT CLICKING THE LINKS.
I provide a synopsis, themes, content tags, heat ratings, reps-- I even explain WHY there are two editions of the book and also how Hunger Pangs came to be. I link them in all my promo posts so people can click them, read more, and decide if Phangs is for them.
The fact that people are complaining they have no idea what my book is about is on them. I cannot spoon-feed you every detail in brief promo posts that I'm trying to design to be as non-annoying as possible because, haha, fun glimpse into what my life looks like; when I DO reblog the longer posts with all that info, I get people telling me to KMS for posting walls of text onto their dash, or people just straight up telling me, "I'm not reading all of that" or "is it gay, though?"
So like, what the fuck am I supposed to do?
Anyway, read Danny's take. And also, click on the link authors provide. I promise you, they are there for a reason.
3K notes · View notes
ssahotchnerr · 1 year
Note
SINCE WHEN COULDNT YOU LINK ANON ASKS ANYMORE ????
basically there was this post saying the bau had to cram into one car and op said they’d have to sit on aaron’s lap. it had me thinking about oblivious aaron and when reader says something like that he doesn’t catch on that she’s flirting so he says “but that’s illegal 🫤 and dangerous ☝️”
by default
wc; 1.1k cw; sexual tension, flustered aaron flustered aaron flustered aaron
leave it to morgan to get an injury. per usual.
to be fair, he had been heroic, intercepting the unsub just in the nick of time. but while doing so, he had landed obscurely on his ankle, twisting the absolute hell out of it.
as a result, derek ultimately had to take up the entire backseat to keep his foot raised- to prevent further swelling and in attempt to ease the throbbing pain.
but that meant, you were left without a seat.
the takedown had been sudden; the other half of the team were still at the precinct, as was the other suv. you paused as the realization suddenly entered your mind, your hand pausing still on the ajar door.
at the sound of aaron's familiar footsteps behind you, you turned- just enough so he was able to catch a glimpse of your face. the look on yours must've relayed a sense of troubledness, as aaron's usual stoic expression deepened, a quizzical look in his eyes.
"what is it?" his tone was balanced- calm, but a hint of urgency was merely present. as if he were ready to go from zero to one hundred at your request, whatever it may be.
you gaped at him. "i don't have a seat."
aaron's face changed immediately, displaying an internal oh as the realization of the current predicament hit him as well. "right..." aaron's voice trailed off, immediately racking through his brain for a possible solution. "um..."
"what's the issue?" dave approached the two of you, having just finished his conversation with one of the paramedics on scene.
"since hero man over here took one for the team," you tilted your head in derek's direction, who looked awfully proud at the title you've given him. "we're inevitably down a seat."
"hm. well i guess that's too bad." dave nonchalantly answered with a shrug of his shoulders. to hide his smile, he opened the driver side door and didn't waste a second getting inside, offering no further words or assistance.
aaron huffed out a breath through his nose, rolling his eyes at rossi's very apparent helpfulness.
a new idea flashed into your head- one that made you giddy and sweat at the same time. it exited your mouth before you could stop it; you chalked it up to the adrenaline still pumping through your veins from the unsub's takedown. any other time, you wouldn't be as confident or straightforward.
"i could always sit on your lap."
despite the fact he instantly froze, aaron did a good job at showing no emotion at your suggestion. just like you, the idea made him feel lightheaded in the best possible way, but would he allow that to show? absolutely not.
and so by default, aaron crossed his arms, his eyebrows drawn into a line. "that's not very safe."
"do you have any better ideas?" you arched an eyebrow, crossing your arms right back at him. "we're out of options here."
"the roof?" derek joked from inside the vehicle. at his statement, aaron didn't hesitate to push the door shut, silencing him for the meantime.
"it's only like, a twenty minute drive. it's fine, i'll be fine." you reassured him, searching his eyes with yours.
he deadpanned. "and it's illegal."
you waved off his statement, quirking an eyebrow in a teasing manner. "i'll wear my vest if it makes you feel any better."
his timid expression softened, as if he were actually considering your point, but it only took a moment for the pensiveness to return. he let out a sigh, pulling his eyes from yours. "no..."
"then...?" you pushed hesitantly.
aaron knew your suggestion was the most logical resolution. it was either that, or derive morgan from aiding to his injury.
and he also knew that you would be safe, in his arms. by no means would he ever let anything bad happen to you.
his eyes made their way back to you, only to be met with again, a raised eyebrow.
"okay, fine." he surrendered, loosening his crossed arms and letting them drop to his sides.
you made your way over to the passenger side of the car, aaron at your footsteps. when he took the initiative and moved forward a bit, opening the door for the two of you, your confidence instantly fizzled and nerves took it's place.
this was really about to happen.
aaron climbed into the suv first, taking his seat and buckling- the seatbelt wouldn't span over both of you, so his arms would have to act as your seatbelt- before holding a hand out to you.
aaron had had less than a minute to prepare himself for this, but he was certain there wasn't a value of time that actually could.
meanwhile, you exhaled a silent breath and took his hand, settling yourself onto his lap.
at the contact aaron's breath hitched, his cheeks warming. involuntarily, all his past fantasies came to mind, as they were vaguely as close to coming true than he ever thought possible. he had lost count at how many times he had pictured you being this close, and closer. the only difference now were the articles of clothing separating the two of you, and the fact two colleagues were inches away.
to sum it up, you were both equally flustered. for months, there was an unspoken... something between the two of you. something neither of you had acted upon it, or addressed. and this, it was crossing the nonexistent barrier the two of you had put into place.
neither of you were upset about it too, quite honestly.
with a racing heart, you leaned back against his chest, aaron's arms wrapping around your waist securely and holding your body tightly to his. you weren't going fly through the windshield, even at the smallest of brakes, not on his watch.
after a very nervous swallow, he checked in with you, "this alright?"
that immediately took you by surprise, and did not help in the slightest. the closeness of aaron's low voice directly at your ear, his warm breath spreading across your neck, had every part of you silently humming.
"mhm." was all you could manage, resisting the urge to move your hips further back into his.
"aw, don't you two look comfortable." derek gushed from the backseat, a low chuckle escaping him.
you peered back to give him the stink eye, while aaron chose to ignore him. but, your movement did exactly what you hadn't intended, pushing yourself further into aaron. he let out a small noise, his grip around your waist only tightening as he resisted to squirm in his seat.
aaron composed himself the best he could, taking two long, silent breaths, he cleared his throat. "rossi-"
"drive safe, take no chances." dave interrupted him immediately, shifting the gear into drive. his tone was almost wise, clear amusement in his voice. "i know."
2K notes · View notes
sinsatmidnight · 3 months
Text
30 Years Later
Pairing – Kim Minji (JiU) x Male Reader
Words - 3101
Sins – Smut, oral, sumata, shower sex
So...it's been a while. I have not been keeping up with what goes on Tumblr, I have to admit, and nor have I read any (most? I may have read a couple during this period) of the many stories that people have started after I stopped. I'm inevitably rusty, but I had this draft I started a long while back that I somehow got into the mood to finish, so I figured I may as well post it, just for fun. Maybe someone will enjoy it. Hopefully you like it if you read it! And no, I don't expect a significant uptick in activity from me, but I may pay more attention to some of the other stories being written. Working on this was not quite the healthiest thing (because uh, I may have overused a certain part of my body the last couple of days) and let's just say one of the reasons I'm posting this is because it already had a significant bit written. But I kinda wanna subject myself to more of this...abuse(?) now. Ugh I'm rambling, but anyways, hope everyone has a good day (or night)!
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(2130 hours, 20 September 2220, Eternity)
It started out muffled. The droning sound breaking into your consciousness, jolting it to life. You have no idea what it is. Or where you are, for that matter. Your eyes are closed. But your ears are sharper now that your mind is actively concentrating on listening.
A voice. Female. You can’t make out words but she sounds calm. And then your eyes slowly open, almost as though forced open by an outside force. That’s when you remember.
“Condition is stable, consciousness gained, cryo pods are opening.” That calm, droning female voice comes through clear to you now. There is a soft hiss as the transparent door of your cryo pod slides to the side. The light outside your pod is quite soft, and yet at the moment to your eyes, it is blinding. Disoriented by your awakening, you lay in the gel bed as you try to get your bearings.
“Eden? Status update…oh, and what is the current date and time?”
The ship’s AI, Eden, responds in the electronically generated calm tone that all shipboard Ais use. “Welcome back, Commander. All of the Eternity’s systems are currently running optimally. All crew members are in good health. It is currently 2130 hours, 20 September 2220.”
Your mind does the math easily despite just coming back from the induced cryo-sleep. Thirty years. Well, that would be right. Crew members were supposed to be woken up after thirty years to run manual checks on the ship’s condition and look over all data collected automatically by ship sensors and the AI. They stay up for two weeks and then go back into cryo-sleep. And after the first thirty years, this is repeated every five years.
Your mind remembers that crew members aren’t woken up alone, they’re normally woken up in pairs as an additional safety measure. One person who can handle technical or mechanical issues on the ship, which in this case is you, and one more person who is medically trained to check on the sleeping crew and in case of medical emergency.
Your gel bed is softening; rapidly melting as you defrost and becoming less of a gel and more of a slime. A marvel of human technological ingenuity; the clear gel froze quickly, was non-toxic in case of accidental ingestion, while also serving as a shock-absorbent and anti-bacterial bed for cryo-sleep.
You need to get out and check who else was awakened with you. As your hands reach and hold on to the sides of the pod, you realise that you have an erection. Your mind immediately jumps back thirty years prior, to the minutes right before the crew enter cryo-sleep. It might have been from thirty years ago, but those are your last waking memories and they feel like just minutes ago instead.
You remember undressing before you enter your cryo pod; cryo-sleep has to be done naked and trying to unpeel clothing frozen to a person for years is painful. And that was when your eyes caught sight of the occupant of the pod opposite you.
With long dark hair and incredibly kissable lips, combat medic Kim Minji drew attention wherever she went. She was tall, gorgeous and had a body that drew a reaction from your own. As you watched her unzip her white bodysuit and slip out of it, stripping off her underwear and getting naked, you felt the blood rush to your penis and you were glad that she was too preoccupied with her own cryo-sleep preparations to look over at you. You ended up getting frozen before your erection could soften.
Back in the present, another female voice that definitely wasn’t Eden’s cuts into your thoughts. “You’ve had that for thirty years, Commander?’
As you stumble out of the pod, the melting gel dripping all over the floor, your eyes immediately catch sight of Kim Minji’s naked body standing outside her pod, the clear slime dripping off her body and giving it a shimmering sheen under the soft white lights of the cryo chamber. You quickly realise two things: that Kim Minji is your medically trained partner that you’re going to be alone with for the next two weeks and that your erection won’t be going down anytime soon despite your embarrassment at getting caught. You technically outrank her, but that doesn’t matter when there’s just two people awake on the ship.
Minji’s gaze is fixed upon your groin and very obvious erection and a smirk plays on her red lips. “Oh, Minji, I-“
Before you can think of an excuse, Minji cuts in. “Thanks for the compliment, I guess. I’ve never had a guy have a boner for me for that long.”
You smile sheepishly and try to change the subject. “Let’s go wash up before we start work.” At the far end of the cryo chamber was the doorway to another smaller room. A shower chamber with a row of showerheads which to wash off the slime with warm water before you got dressed. There were no partitions, they didn’t bother with them, given that everyone is naked in the cryo chamber anyway. And anyone outside the showers can see into them, given that the walls and doors are made of transparent shatter-proof glass.
You drip clear slime onto the silvery metallic floor beneath your bare feet and the metal doesn’t feel cool to your touch, but given that you were completely frozen minutes ago, that’s understandable. The two of you make your way towards the shower chamber, walking past the other cryo pods which stand up at 45-degree angles, glancing at the naked bodies of other crew members stored in cryo-sleep within them. The water from the shower feels warm to you, a nice comfortable temperature. Minji is next to you, the water flowing over her naked and fit body. It's not helping your erection. Her voice cuts into your thoughts. "I can feel some slime on my back still, could you help me scrub it off?" You hesitate for a moment but then your hand reaches forward and runs over her smooth back, swiping the slime off. You feel Minji's body shiver at your touch, and she lets out a soft moan.
You are sure that your erection is pointing straight up now. Not that it wasn't before, but this situation is just prolonging it.
"Oh, that's nice. Can you do it a little lower, please?" She asks, and your hands move further down. Your hands are caressing her pert ass now, the soap lather coating it and making it feel smooth. Minji is letting out soft moans and you are enjoying touching her. As you wash her ass, your fingers stray between her legs, rubbing against her dripping vaginal folds. She is wet and it is not the water causing this.
"You're doing a great job, Commander. But there's a lot more I need you to wash for me." You turn her around so that she is facing you. You look into her eyes and she is biting her lower lip. Minji has a perfect pair of breasts, firm but soft and a nice handful. They are covered with soap lather now and you find your hands moving forward to massage her tits. You pinch her pink nipples, feeling her tremble as you touch her. Minji leans into you, her wet body pressing against yours. She feels hot to the touch, as though her temperature has gone up.
"Look, I really feel like I should help you with that boner of yours." Minji whispers breathily. "Can I do that for you, Commander?" She has already reached down and taken your hard length in her hand, her thumb rubbing the head of your cock, spreading the precum that had gathered. She gives your cock a gentle tug, and it takes all of your willpower to not cum on her right then and there.
"Fuck, Minji, that's- that's fine." You let out an odd mix of strangled gasp that ends in a muttered assurance, as her soft hand continues to firmly stroke your erection.
"Thanks, Commander. I appreciate it." Minji presses those incredibly kissable red lips up against yours, and her tongue hungrily comes out to play. You reciprocate, even as your hands are busy continuing to explore her body. Her hands, on the other hand, are one of the most pleasurable experiences you’ve ever had as your wet cock is deftly and smoothly pumped and stroked.
With a wink, Minji drops to her knees, the water from the showerhead splashing her face and wetting her long hair. She presses her tits together and wraps them around your throbbing shaft.
It feels good and your body instinctively thrusts forward, your hips rocking back and forth, fucking her breasts. Your balls are tensing up, and you can tell you aren't going to last long. It is smooth and slick between her breasts and the tip of your cock is rubbing up against her lips with her tongue comes out to tease the tip. Your eyes stare at her as she looks back at you and with a smirk, Minji parts her lips, taking the head of your cock into her mouth.
The tip of her tongue swirls around the sensitive head, licking up the precum that continues to leak. Then, she starts bobbing her head forward and back, taking more and more of your shaft into her mouth, eventually releasing your cock from between her tits. Minji hums contentedly as she sucks and swallows your cock, and her hand is wrapped around the base, pumping you in time with the movements of her head. Minji’s other hand has drifted between her legs, and she starts to furiously masturbate as she blows you. Her slender fingers plunge in and out of her leaking vagina as she keeps her thumb vigorously rubbing her engorged clit.
As you lock eyes with the gorgeous medic on her knees in front of you, she gives you a sultry look, her lustful eyes peering into yours as she sucks you off. Minji’s expert tongue swirling around your shaft and the vibrations of her moans as she takes your dick deep into her throat very quickly becomes too much for you. Your hands need to grab something, to get control.
Your fingers run through her long hair and roughly grab hold of her head, pulling her towards you as you thrust into her mouth hard. You hear her gag a little, but she doesn’t stop with her movement. You feel the pressure building up, and your hips are moving of their own accord. Your cock is hitting the back of her throat, and your balls are tightening.
With a moan, you cum in her mouth. Thick spurts of cum erupt from your dick and fill her throat. She swallows it all, and stands up, licking those red lips. "That was tasty. It’s not every day you get to taste cum stored up for thirty years."
You barely register her words, breathing heavily. That was the most intense orgasm of your life. Your cock is still hard, but Minji is seemingly satisfied. For now.
Or maybe not. She steps away from you, and turns around, bending over. Her shapely ass is facing you, and her pussy is glistening. She looks back at you and wiggles her hips. "Can you help me clean down here too, please?"
You can't refuse Minji’s request. You have to return the favour, after all. You move towards her and rub her pussy. It is dripping wet, and her juices are flowing freely. You stick a finger inside her and feel her walls clench around it. She lets out a gasp, and pushes her hips back, as if wanting more.
"Oh, I really need it, Commander." She pants, as you continue to finger her. You pull out, and she lets out a groan. "Why did you stop?"
"Just making sure you're ready for me." You reply as you give her pert ass a quick spank, drawing a low moan from the medic. You position your cock at her entrance and push inside her.
She gasps and whimpers as you enter, and you feel her pussy walls tighten around your shaft. You start to thrust into Minji’s soaked pussy, and she groans while pushing her hips back to meet your thrusts. You grab her hips and pull her closer, helping her out in an attempt to get ever deeper inside her. She cries out in pleasure, as you fuck her as hard and fast as you.
It doesn’t take long before you are getting close to climax, and she is too. You can feel her walls tightening around your shaft, and her breathing is getting faster. You grip her hips tightly and pound her harder.
"Commander!" She moans, as she orgasms. Her juices flow over your cock, and you can't hold back any longer. You pull out of her and explode all over her ass and back, creating a sticky mess there. And then you plop down on the ground, all this exertion so soon after coming out of cryo-sleep has taken a lot out of you.
You both pant, catching your breath. Minji crawls over and kisses you deeply. "Thanks, Commander. I can't wait to work with you for the next two weeks." You can only nod breathlessly in response, your tongue wrestling with hers. Minji breaks the kiss and stands up, with her back to you. “Well, going to need your help with this mess here. Your fault, so you clean it up, sir.” Your gaze goes over her cum-glazed skin and you stand up to grab a sponge from the side of the room, lathering it up with some body wash from a dispenser. You start to work on cleaning her up, using the sponge to get your semen off her skin. But Minji is inherently distracting. It is clear whenever you touch her that she is affected by it. You hear some sighs of pleasure, even the occasional whine when your hands leave her.
This inevitably affects you and you are somehow hardening again down below. You make a split-second decision and suddenly press Minji's wet body up against the wall. You swiftly follow that up by sliding your semi-erect dick in between her soaked creamy thighs. You start to thrust in between her thighs, making sure that you brush against her pussy fold throughout.
"Oh, you're naughty, sir." Minji pants lustfully. You can feel the warmth of her vagina radiating through your thrusting member. You are quickly erect once more. This feels even better than her sucking and giving you a titfuck. "How is this, Minji?" You whisper into her ear.
"Fuck, Commander. That's… that's really good. Really, really good." She whimpers breathily, her body pushed up against the transparent wall, tits first. Your cock continues to slide between her thighs, teasing her pussy. You are both covered in soapy suds, the water from the shower spraying and splashing on the both of you. Her skin feels silky smooth and slippery to the touch. With each thrust, her ass and thighs clap loudly. You reach forward and fondle her tits, her nipples hardening and her breathing quickening. You keep thrusting, enjoying the feeling of her soapy thighs wrapped around your shaft. Minji is moaning and gasping with each thrust, and her breathing is getting faster.
Her legs are trembling, and her juices are flowing freely, mixing with the soap suds and water. Your balls slap against her clit, and she cries out in pleasure, her whole body shaking. You reach forward and grab her wrists, pinning her to the glass wall. She lets out a moan and arches her back. You kiss her neck and shoulders and continue to fuck her soapy thighs. She is whimpering and moaning with every thrust, and her juices are flowing freely, making her inner thighs and your cock very slick and slippery.
Your thrusting becomes faster and more urgent. Minji is definitely close to climaxing; you hear her moans and whimpers are getting less coherent and more urgent; you’re sure you catch some lust fuelled whining and babbling about wanting your cum and something about being fucked hard. Your cock is slamming against her pussy, and her walls are clenching around it, her juices leaking out. She is breathing heavily, and her legs are trembling.
You release one of her hands and guide it down to her clit, prompting her to start rubbing it furiously. Her fingers are a blur, and her moans become louder and more urgent. You continue to fuck those soaped-up milky thighs of hers, and she is practically screaming in pleasure, her voice echoing off the walls of the shower room. Not that you had to care about anyone hearing you. You did have an odd sort of audience in the rest of the crew outside in cryo-sleep, just beyond the transparent wall you have pressed Minji against.
Your cock is twitching and pulsating, and you can feel the pressure building up. You are both close to that final edge, and the only sounds are your heavy breathing, the splashing water, and the loud clapping sound of her ass and thighs slapping against your cock and balls.
You thrust forcefully into her thighs a few more times, and then you erupt. Your thick, creamy load sprays onto her thighs and the transparent wall, coating them in your semen. Her body shudders, and she cries out, reaching her own climax. Her juices flow over your shaft, and she slumps down, exhausted. You follow suit and collapse next to her. You both lie there for a while, trying to catch your breath. You do catch out of the corner of your eye, that Minji takes a few licks of your cum from the wall.
The two of you eventually manage to finish your shower and dry up, with you eyeing Minji the whole time as she puts that white bodysuit back and zips it back up. She catches your eye, bites her lip, and then smirks naughtily. You’re both relieved and regretful that your cock is worn out and needs rest. That would have brought it back up. You and Minji are both very well aware that you don't actually have much to do over the next couple of weeks, other than the occasional diagnostic check of the ship’s systems and such. The ship’s AI, Eden was there to handle the heavy lifting. And so, you're very much looking forward to the next couple of weeks alone with Minji.
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k-pepp · 3 months
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With the final season of YR coming up, I’ve been thinking about Wille’s journey again. Because he’s 16, we won’t know if he actually chooses to renounce his title or remain in his role as future king, but I have a feeling this season will give us an indication which way it will go. So, before we get any type of confirmation, I want to get my current thoughts out. I’m aware that a lot of YR Tumblr skews toward King Wilhelm so my pro-renounce post might not resonate with anyone and that’s ok. I just want to put all my thoughts together before S3 comes along with something that totally blows all my opinions and assumptions out of the water 🙂 I understand the idea of wanting Wille to be King because he could be such a great leader. He is kind and compassionate and can be good at taking charge. BUT just because a person could be good at something, doesn’t mean they should be forced to do it. My number one reason for being in favor of Renouncing his Title is the sheer fact that Wille doesn’t want to be King. He doesn’t want the title. He doesn’t want that life. Wille has been shown a multitude of times talking about how he struggles with the duties that come with being a prince. Whether it’s with Erik:
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Or August:
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Or Boris:
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(honestly, this boy will spill his guts to anyone who is willing to even half listen to him. My god. I’m so glad they gave this poor kid a therapist) He's also talked about how he feels trapped in this position. For him, to renounce the throne would be freedom. Freedom to live a life he actually wants.
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Even the mere idea of staying in his current position makes him physically ill.
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Some people take the end of episode 2x06 to mean he’s moved beyond all that and accepted his role as the future king. I didn’t personally see it that way. I saw it as a combination of a few things. 1) When come face-to-face with it, he just couldn’t let August give the speech (But the fact that he was initially willing to let someone who distributed revenge porn against him become king really speaks to how much he definitely doesn’t want that position) 2) He didn’t want Simon to have to compromise his happiness and give in to a situation he didn’t actually want 3) He didn’t want to hide anymore. He wanted to be himself. Wille is a person who craves authenticity. Which brings me to a bigger point… Life as the Crown Prince / King is inherently inauthentic. One of the main pro-King arguments is that he would blaze his own trail and do things his way. But how? Being a member of the royal family is a job. The basic responsibilities of that job are to do things like diplomatic visits, hosting events, being part of photo ops, schmoozing with people… pretty much all things having to do with putting on a public persona. It’s great that he could be himself in the sense that he would be the first queer Crown Prince / King, but the baseline duties he would have to fulfill are still inherently inauthentic. And I don’t know how he would “do it his way” aside from just not doing it. He hates putting on fake smiles
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the photo ops
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the schmoozing with people
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Erik even told Wille, the way to get through that stuff is to just pretend to be someone else.
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We know he’s capable of doing it. We saw how charming he could be at Parents Day weekend. But that was because he wanted to sit with Simon and impress Simon’s mom. Other than that lunch, he mostly hid in his room. And it goes back to my original point. Just because someone may be good at something doesn’t mean they should be forced to do it. (And yes, even if he walked away from the line of succession, he could still have familial obligations, but it wouldn’t be anywhere near the level of what is expected now) At this point, Wille is only continuing as Crown Prince because of a commitment to his family. Mainly Erik.
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He doesn’t want to let him down or feel like he’s betraying his legacy. To Wille, Erik was perfect. We only saw two full conversations between them and in both conversations, Erik was telling Wille to get his act together because “it’s not that hard”.
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That quote is probably something he told Wille a lot. So much that Wille later regurgitates it to Boris. Three different times.  
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Going on to say that Erik could handle everything easily.  
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Based on the fact that Erik was going to Boris, he probably wasn’t managing everything with ease. But in Wille’s perception, he was. Wille is basically chasing a ghost. Self-imposed pressure of unattainable perfection. He bears a guilt that pushes him to want to be someone he thinks Erik would be proud of.   The problem with that is, Erik was a monarchist. Maybe he struggled a bit (which is why he went to Boris), but based on the things he would say to Wille, he backed the monarchy / family completely.
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Ultimately, I just want Wille to be happy. Maybe S3 will completely change my outlook and I’ll root for him to become king because that’s what he wants. But right now, I think he only wants it out of a sense of obligation to Erik. And honestly…maybe my most controversial opinion…if he did stay in his position because of Erik, he probably wouldn’t change that much within the institution. I mean, he couldn’t change much even if he wanted to. He wouldn’t be allowed to do big things without the consent of the Swedish parliament and maybe a public referendum. And I doubt he’d even have the capability to make small changes. As already pointed out by @piebingo in this great post, Kristina didn’t actually want August to be next in line. But she was overruled. The Royal Court has a lot of power and making any sort of reforms or independent decisions is not that simple. Especially within an establishment that relies on keeping everything exactly the same. But even if that weren’t true. Even if Wille could snap his fingers and make all these huge changes… part of me doesn’t think he would. I know a lot of the folks who are pro-King Wilhelm want him to become the king just so he can completely destroy it from within. But to me, in Wille’s eyes there would be no bigger betrayal to Erik’s legacy than Wille burning the institution to the ground. And if he wants to live up to Erik’s legacy. Not betray him. Not let him down. He will act as he thinks Erik would act. If Wille becomes king because of Erik, he’ll maintain the establishment because of Erik. And he would be miserable doing it. Miserable and without Simon. Yes, my other controversial opinion. If Wille stayed as king, Wilmon wouldn’t make it. Simon is described to us as a socialist. One of his introductory scenes is him calling the monarchy the country’s biggest welfare scammers. I can’t imagine Simon giving up his musical dreams to join an institution that he hates. I also can’t imagine Wille letting him do that. That was such a big part of Wille’s growth in Season 2. Wille wouldn’t let Simon sacrifice his happiness for the sake of his own happiness (being with Simon). Even if Simon didn’t end up pursuing something in music, he made it clear in his talk with Rosh and Ayub that he wants to work hard to make something of himself.
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I mean, look at him. Look at this sweet baby angel’s face when he’s told he has an opportunity that will open doors to his future. I can’t imagine him giving up his ambitions or autonomy to become prince consort. Having to live every day under royal rules and protocols. Maybe he would. I personally can’t see it. And finally, I know a main reason people like the idea of King Wille is because we like the idea of a queer king. But as much as we all want queer representation; I don’t think it should be anybody’s responsibility to be the political representation that people want to see. Wille shouldn’t be in a position he hates because he’s queer. A queer person living their life and getting out of a toxic situation is also good representation. A person can’t fix the problem by becoming part of it. Having him be the face of an institution that’s been about exploitation and oppression isn’t going to solve it. It's always been said by Lisa and Edvin that Wille’s problem is not that he’s queer. It’s that he’s a prince. Everything about what’s making him unhappy is about him being prince / the future king. Him walking away from his title would be about him escaping a future that would make him miserable. Personally, that’s what I’m hoping for.
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m4rs-ex3 · 28 days
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ALLLL RIGHTY YALL
if u haven't already seen.............. guys i was late i was fucking late for the panel give me a break
BUT here is a play by play of everything from the second i got in
[A GOOD CHUNK OF THE SECRET SCENE] if you saw this post within the first few *hours you got to see but you know what? they got to me i don't wanna be the snitch (i did on accident but its the though that counts)
opeli is being led blindfolded (which we see from opeli's pov. riveting visuals i tell you) by soren to the ✨secret meeting location✨
when she comments on the fact that it is literally just callum's office soren shuts her up bless him
opeli's like "DID BAIT GIVE BIRTH??!?!?" and soren's like no these are "rescue baits" and opeli gives them the greatest fucking look i can't even describe it to you
you've seen that leak "look it's the pearl :D""WHA""yep he's in there :)))))"
rayla says it like "per-al." just thought you should know
soren suggests forming a Fellowship of the Pearl and going to throw it into a volcano i fucking hate this show
they're all debating what to do with it meanwhile the most cryptic-ass shots of callum with the pearl like we get it he's fucked (i take it back i want more)
they finally get to him and he's like "uh????? destroy it obviously?????"
he suggests--and these are 100% his words (not actually cuz u know but its the general idea)--"smash it? throw it off a cliff? take a big ol axe and just--KA CHOP." i love him so much
rayla asks how they know it won't just release him
the way callum is so confused and conflicted and he just says "i... i don't know" oh my god by precious baby
cool ass top-down to the pearl whirlpool esq transtion into the next scene hello??
zym is being emo at a painting of his mother (the one from 4x03 yeah they just stitched that shit up it's all good)
ezran's like. huh. we oughtta do smth abt this
callum is Thinking Thoughts on the turrets(?? yk where soren does his lunges) and tossin the rune cube when he sees the star rune light up......................................
it's stella stella's there and the way he reacts to her is so precious 😭 he's not the step dad he's the dad who stepped up type shit
enter rayla "they told me u would be up here brooding"
(in a tragic turn of events the rayllum of this scene had my brain fuzzy so i can't remember a few chunks here and there have pity my brain has rotten)
callum's like "we have to do something i'm scared he's gonna use me. i know what we need to do ok we need to go to the starscraper"
it's honestly hilarious the way he says "and *WE.* should go" he's like "don't be gettin any ideas now this is an us thing"
and then ohoho "they have something there for you, too" (THAT was an exact quote)
he's like "PLSPLSPLS i've studied star magic i know the spells i know the runes i just need the quasar diamonds!! LET ME FREE UR PARENTS AND RUNAAN PLEAAAASSSSEEEE"
rayla is veryyyyyy opposed she's like "NO i want to help my parents as much as you"--honestly i don't think ANYONE wants to as much as him--"but i don't want my biases to affect that" BIASES?!??!! like that was the word she used i can't stop thinking about it
zym has entered his wolf child era his ass is HOWLING at the moon
soren hears him and goes "aww little guy misses his mom :((( sometimes i wonder where my mom is...." WHAT AWHAT WHAT AWHAT PJARDON SAY IT AGIAN YOU WAHGTS SAY IT AGIAND HUAH HUWH A
ok. yeah callum does not have pajamas BUT I THINK WE HAVE BIGGER ISSUES HERE????????????? HE WAS SLEEPING IN HIS OFFICE
THAT COUCH THING THAT THEY WERE ON WHEN RAYLA CAME BACK IN 4x03???? HES JUST SLEEPING ON IT I CANT MY GUY WHAT R U DOINGGG
in other news
bruv is tossing and turning and then just. ~stops.~ this can only mean good things (i think you know where i'm going with this)
he sits up. hobbles over to the door. there was a really cool transition (can u tell i respect the cinematography) and he's in the cellar holding the pearl.
he wakes up in aaravos' prison and is like "well this looks neat!" until he sees the mirror and screams and wakes up. when he realizes where he is he goes "what have i done" dude you fell asleep?? god he's never sleeping again (<- me when i lie 😈)
the description we got of this next scene did NOT do it justice it was fucking incredible
callum kicks down the fucking door (not actually) screaming for rayla
rayla TUMBLES OUT OF BED ON TO THE FLOOR, pillows in hands and unafraid to use them
"WHOA. HEY HEY ITS OKAY ITS ME! it's just me rayla. it's me. callum" i feel like he was saying the same 5 words for 7 hours it was beautiful
rayla: "callum?? jeez i could have-" *looks at pillows*
callum giggles the cutest fucking giggle and says something along the lines of "yeah, it would've hurt real bad :)"
oh yeah DE-LAYERED PONYTAIL RAYLA CONFIRMEDED??!?!?!?!?!
she sits back on the bed and my guy KNEELS DOWN AT THE CORNER OF THE BED TO PICK UP HER STUFF BEFORE HE SITS DOWN NEXT TO HER and they say chivalry is dead romance was birthed and ended with this scene
he tells her about it and she goes "callum, you're exhausted. you had a nightmare. if i thought you were in any real danger you know i would-" and then ironically i forget the same line that the person from nycc did wouldja look at that
can i just mention how close they were sitting in this scene i mean i jsut thikn i should mention hwo clo
yada yada he has a lightbulb and runs off with her blanket
the iconic "i know stella.. he took our blankie :("
god knows why barius is up in the middle of the night whispering sweet nothings to his jelly tarts
callum comes in with a certain proposition mwuhahaha
rayla comes into his office and sees his aesthetic ass sewing by fireside and graciously says "ah i get it! you're taking your mind off things by peacefully knitting" so iconic for both of them
callum explains that he's stitching runes to create a protection spell when barius comes in with the """"""""pearl""""""""""
rayla DIVES in front of callum and says "what r you doing get that thing AWAY from him!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!" she got SO protective SO fast it was blessed
callum's like au contraire 😈
ok so obviously we had all heard about the fake pearl but. you know that one guy who makes insane sculptures out of nothing but chocolate? that's what they did the pearl is brown sludge with a candy coating 💀 i'm losing my mind that is so funny to me
so yeah with the decoy out the real pearl is protected by--and callum literally said this--"a magic blankie >:)"
he also pops in to tell ez and omg GUYS BAIT HAS HIS OWN LITTLE ROYAL CANOPY BED ITS SO FUCKING CUTE
dawn in the courtyard--ez is saying goodbye to soren, zym, and pyrrah who are going to look for zubeia (i almost just typed zendaya i need sleep) and callum and rayla who r going to the starscraper
my roman empire is this: callum was acting all eepy and then when they get going hE RESTS HIS HEAD ON RAYLA'S BACK AND FALLS ASLEEP. I CANNOT FUCKING MAKE THIS UP IT WAS PHENOMENAL SHE LOOKED SO FUCKING HAPPY I I I I I I HAKJSDHFKJASHFDKJHSADKFHKJASHFIHASEKFH
on a slightly lower note
scene from teaser except they did cut a couple lines in the teaser. mainly just terry going "didn't see you there,, cuz i was asleep. with my eyes closed"
he does not in fact get impaled but claudia tells him she's gonna leave him first and does just that
as she's going omfg terry's cries and pleas and "I LOVE YOU"s and "I WILL WAIT. I WILL WAIT HERE FOR YOU" was absolutely insane idk what was in the air in that recording studio but shout out to ben
i am so tired goodbye!
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hikari-ni-naritai · 2 months
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Saw a post a while back that pissed me off but I didn't want to complain about it bc my beloved mutuals were gleefully rbing it and I didn't want to offend op but it's been long enough and I'm done holding my tongue. The post was like "everyone says they'd hyperfixate on learning magic if it was real but I know u wouldn't bc it would be too much math for you and you don't care about math". I have many problems with this.
One, and perhaps the most obvious, if doing math would let me hurl lightning from my fingertips, I would be doing math. The main reason I am not doing math right now is bc it does not let me conjure lightning and doing math for its own sake does not interest me. The idea that the addition of a reward for one's effort could not possibly make anyone interested in putting forth effort goes against the entire history of human behavior.
Two, why is it assumed that magic would be math based? Because computers are math based and that's the closest thing we have to magic? Because technology is math based, and sufficiently advanced technology is indiscernible from magic? Foolish. Magic is a thing that, crucially, is not real. There are depictions of magic in art that depict a mathematical process, but this is not the only depiction of magic! There's component-based magic, chemistry-based magic, geometry-based magic, emotional-based magic, magic granted by higher powers, magic borrowed from the earth itself, spirit magic, inborn magic, somatic magic, verbal magic, programming magic, and frankly many others! The idea that any real application of magic would necessarily be math-based is nothing more than reckless guesswork by a mathematician.
AND THIRD, and this is important, even if it IS math based, the human brain is optimized for doing extremely complex math for basically everything we do. Consider the math involved in determining distance via parallax. If you showed me two pictures taken from slightly different angles, I couldn't tell you what equations I'd need to run to determine how far away the thing in the image is, but our eyes do that every single day without even thinking about it. Consider the physics involved with just walking down an empty hallway. We can't walk when we're born, but we learn to walk without any knowledge of physics or math. Consider the lightning fast calculations a baseball player must make to hit a pitch flying faster than a car. Do you think mickey mantle was doing equations in his head at bat? The human brain evolved to do applied mathematics by feel. Yes, it would probably take very advanced math skills to discover and create complex spells, but learning a simple cantrip? You could teach your 3 year old niece at the family barbecue as a prank on your brother who now has to deal with a toddler who can cast shocking grasp at will.
Anyway the point is that I would fucking learn to do magic nobody would be able to stop me.
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