#about Naked (1993)

[danielslaw]

RALPH MACCHIO SELECTED FILMOGRAPHY EVOLUTION.

the karate kid (1984) distant thunder (1988) my cousin vinny (1992) naked in new york (1993) ugly betty (2009) a little game (2014) cobra kai (2018-)

[r0seart]

Might regret this post in the morning but I’m tired of being judged by others for the moral failings of fictional characters I like. It’s my trauma, I get to choose which sick bastard I get to project myself onto.

[thyme-in-a-bubble]

night out

a/n: we back babyyy!!! i haven't been able to stop thinking about these two for fucking months, so i wrote both this aaaaand another part to wrap up their story and get it out of my system.

summary: “I can’t believe you’re fucking jealous right now…”

warnings: bodyguard!bucky barnes x reader x ex!peter parker, light smut, reader’s mom is the british ambassador to france, age gap (10-15 years), tattooed!bucky (both a metal arm and tattoos as picked in a poll by you), beefy!bucky, forbidden romance, bffs kate bishop and yelena belova, french rave, dancing, kissing, over-the-clothes fun, foreplay, references to public sex, choking, manhandling, jealousness, possessiveness, angst, arguments, brat mode activated (though its totally justified), these hoes are not dealing with their emotions in a healthy way but it's just for the sake of yummy drama

word count: 1993

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“I thought we were just going to a cute little wine bar, not a fucking rave,” you yelled over the music as your friends dragged you further into the warehouse. 

“Oh, come on, babe,” Yelena boomed, slinking her arm around both yours and Kate's neck, “don’t be a chicken now.”

“Yeah,” your brunette friend on the other side of Yelena tilted her frame to catch your apprehensive eye, “you already sneaked out, so you might as well make it count.” 

“I hate it when you’re right,” you groaned, your gaze narrowed to a squint as you got used to the warm flashing lights that dully illuminated the club. 

“Then you must always hate me,” a smug smirk spread across her features before the trio of you ventured further into the crowded space. 

As the night faded away, you found yourselves bathing in the strobes of neon light as your bodies moved on their own accord, like you were all part of a hive, buzzing together in harmony.

But then when you tapped both of your dancing friends on their shoulders and ushered their ears to lean in close to your lips, you told them, “I’m gonna go get some water,” receiving two thumbs up before you made your way through the crowd to the curved bar in the corner. 

However, after the bartender handed you a plastic bottle and you tilted your head back to take a much-needed sip, a familiar voice found your ears from across the bar. 

“As I live and fucking breathe,” you tipped the bottle back down and glanced down the way at the unexpected figure moseying closer to where you stood. 

“Peter!” a surprised smile couldn’t help but spread across your features, “what are you doing here?” 

Settling in beside you, he said, “it’s a Saturday night, where else would I be?”

“No, I mean, what are you doing in Paris?” 

“Oh, what, am I not allowed to be in your city anymore since the breakup?” he joked.

“No, of course, you can be here.” 

Leaning in even closer so that he didn’t have to yell as loud, he asked, “so how are you doing?”

“Me? I’m good, yeah,” your head bobbed in a nod, “how about you?”

“Can’t complain,” his gaze washed over you as if no time had passed at all, “so… can I ask you something?”

“Sure,” you shifted the water bottle to your other hand. 

“You seeing anyone?” 

“Oh, wow,” you half coughed, “Peter Parker, king of subtlety.” 

“Yeah, well, I’ve seen you naked more times than I can count, so I figured subtlety went out the window a long time ago,” he smirked, “so, are you?”

“I–, uhm…” your eyes averted a moment as you uttered, “no.” 

You weren’t, it was true. Though the reason for why you’d sneaked out in the first place did have to do with a matter of the heart. 

You’d asked your friends what their advice would be if you hypothetically needed to get over someone. They both of course assumed that you were referring to the man standing before you in the disco and not the person who watched you like a hawk every minute of every day. The method they had suggested wasn’t a sound one, though one that still found you desperate enough to try. 

To go out, meet someone else and bang the dude out of your system. 

“Can I ask you something else?” Peter asked again, ripping you out of your thoughts, away from your bodyguard and back in the moment. As you offered him a nod, he smiled brightly, “you wanna dance?”

And that’s how you found yourself in the middle of a crowded dancefloor, plastered against your ex.

It didn’t take long before your lips reunited as well, staying locked as you both let your hands wander, though for you it wasn’t entirely in the spirit of rekindling something that you’d missed, and more to help you forget about the person who you truly wished to lose yourself on a dancefloor with. 

“Fuck,” you heard Peter groan in your ear and his desperation poked your lower abdomen for the attention you used to give it, “you wanna go slip into the bathroom?”

“Uhh,” you giggled as his lips tickled the side of your neck, “what kinda woman do you take me to be?”

“Mine,” he smiled, “that’s who. I know you. A club bathroom is nothing… remember Amsterdam?”

“Y-yeah, I remember,” your body tingled at the thought. 

“That’s also an option, if that’s the kind of mood you're in,” he winked. 

Chuckling as he squeezed your tit, you shook your head lightly, “I’m not fucking you here on the dancefloor.” 

“Oh, come on, it–”

But the rest of your ex’s sentence was cut short as a figure forced itself between you two and pried you apart.  

Instinctively reaching out for Peter as he was forcefully pushed back, your arm then faltered as you blinked up to discover who had shoved him. 

“Barnes,” a shiver ran down your spine at the stormy expression plastered all over his face, a side of him you’d never witnessed before, “I–”

But he cut you off, only to bark, “out, now.”

“But I–”

“Do you wanna walk on your own or should I just toss you over my shoulder?” he glared down at you just before you watched Peter’s hand plant itself on Bucky’s broad shoulder. 

“Hey, dude, don’t touch her, back off,” your ex tried to square up to the intimidating guard dog. 

“No, no, Peter, it’s alright,” you rushed to explain, knowing full well that your bodyguard could and would put him in the hospital, “he’s–…” your eyes briefly flickered up to Bucky’s steely blue eyes, still directed at you, “he’s my bodyguard,” before you let your touch graze Peter’s forearm, “I’m so sorry, it was great seeing you again, but I have to go.” 

Getting dragged out of the club like a perp from a crime scene was not the way you’d imagined your night would wrap up. 

After he’d virtually tossed you in the back and slammed the car door shut behind you, you fished out your phone and swiftly sent your friends an explanatory text while you half-watched Bucky march around the vehicle to the driver’s side. 

The silent treatment he then served you nearly felt worse than the heated words you imagined tumbled around in his head as he fumed, his knuckles nearly turned white from how fiercely he was gripping onto the steering wheel. 

But when you finally mustered the courage to break the eerie silence, your words came out just above a whisper, “I’m sorry…”

“Are you?” his eyes snapped up to find yours in the review mirror, “really? Because I don’t fucking buy it.” 

“Well, I am!” you threw up your arms, “what do you want me to do?” 

“Not sneak out like a fucking teenager to get drunk with your little boyfriend,” 

“I’m not drunk and he’s not my boyfriend!” 

Not taking any of your words to heart, Bucky went on, “you know how stupid this was, right? What if something had happened, huh? I know you didn’t personally read the threats you got back when I first got this job, but trust me when I tell you that if any of those fuckers had gotten their hands on you tonight, you’d be lucky if you were still breathing when the sun rose. This is exactly the sort of reckless behaviour that caused you to need my help in the first place.”

Your mouth then fell open, utterly stunned at his audacity, “oh my god… you’re unbelievable…” you uttered breathlessly before hazily commanding, “stop the car…”

“No–”

“Stop the fucking car!” you roared, casting your gaze to him once more till you felt his foot step on the break. 

As the car screeched to a stop, you wasted no time ripping the door open and storming out. 

Though you didn’t dare to look back, you still heard him exit the vehicle as well and shadow you as you wandered a few paces away, just far enough for you to be able to get some air. 

“Y/n,” you heard him from just a few meters behind you, “get back in the car–”

But you didn’t shift your feet as you then interrupted, back still turned to him.

“I can’t believe you’re fucking jealous right now…”

“What?”

“Well aren’t you?” you heatedly twisted around to face him, “because it sure fucking looks like it. Getting all fucking possessive, ripping me away from my ex before I can crawl my way back to him, before I get the chance to feel anyone inside of me but you–”

“Stop–”

“Is that it? You just want me all to yourself?” you kept on poking, too blind by your fury to consider the consequences, “you want it to be you that I’m so in love with that I’d make you personalised porn, which would consequently ruin my life and cause me to have a babysitter essentially stalking me.”

“Stop!” he took a step closer as he barked.

“Unless you’ve already seen the tape,” your feet shifted back, keeping him at a distance, “fantasising that it’s for you, getting yourself off to the image of me bouncing on that pretty pink dildo–”

Your sentence then crumbled into a shrivelled yelp as you felt his cold metal hand seize your neck and push you the last few inches up against the brick wall behind you. 

His fingers didn’t squeeze you in the slightest, though you still knew just how easy it would have been for him to tighten his grip and turn it into more than just a raging warning. 

“You done?” he spat as his eyes pieced directly into your soul, “or do you wanna give me more reasons why you’re nothing more than a spoiled little brat, why I should just quit now and not have to deal anymore with what a fucking pain you are in my ass?”

For the life of you, no attempts at offering him an answer were successful on your lips. 

He scared you. 

He’d never scared you before. 

Both because of the explosion you’d undoubtedly made even worse than it had to be, but also his fleeting threat of leaving you for good. 

It all terrified you… 

Though, there was also a different sensation that it awoke within you, one that caused your eyes to flutter down towards his lips, an action that your bodyguard surprisingly mirrored as well as your heated breaths synced up. 

You had no idea who moved first, if it was you or him, but the next thing you knew, you were kissing him.

With adrenaline still pumping in your veins, you clawed at his broad frame as you let your tongue flicker out and flutter against his own. The steely hand that had locked itself around your neck softened and whisked down your form, mirroring your own starving touch as he securely held you like you were about to fall. 

However, just as your palm slid down to find the bulge in his pants, rubbing it needily before your fingers tried to seize the short zipper, Bucky took a large step back, snapping to his senses and creating a wide distance between him and your melted form against the brick. 

His eyes refused to meet your foggy ones as he held them to the ground, slowly catching his breath before uttering, “get in the car,” defeat shining through in his low tone.

“Bucky–,” you tried, but without success as he then cut you off. 

“Please, just–…” his gaze fluttered shut a moment as you then heard him sombrely promise, “look, I’ll make sure your mom doesn’t hear word of what happened tonight. If we go now, then we’ll arrive before any of the staff wakes up, no one will notice.”

© 2024 thyme-in-a-bubble

[txttletale]

Hi! Do you think you could link me to some resources about the problems/ evils of the EU? Would love to find some but it's hard to know what's reliable when I have no base knowledge in this area + you seem very well informed :)

sure. let's start with what the EU does to its own member states--in 2009, the EU bailed the greek government out of severe debt on the condition that they establish brutal austerity measures, cutting public spending and welfare. these measures served to immiserate and destroy the lives of thousands of greek people:

Greek mortality has worsened significantly since the beginning of the century. In 2000, the death rate per 100,000 people was 944.5. By 2016, it had risen to 1174.9, with most of the increase taking place from 2010 onwards.

[forbes]

Since the implementation of the austerity programme, Greece has reduced its ratio of health-care expenditure to GDP to one of the lowest within the EU, with 50% less public hospital funding in 2015 than in 2009. This reduction has left hospitals with a deficit in basic supplies, while consumers are challenged by transient drug shortages.

[the lancet]

The homeless population is thought to have grown by 25 per cent since 2009, now numbering 20,000 people.

[oxfam]

the most brutal treatment, however, the EU of course reserves for migrants from the global south. the EU sets strict migration quotas and uses its member states as weapons against desperate people fleeing across the mediterranean. boats are prevented from landing, migrants that do make it to land are repelled with brutal violence, and refugees are deported back to countries where their lives are in lethal danger. these policies have led to many, many deaths--and the refugees and migrants who do survive are treating fucking inhumanely.

After a perilous journey across the desert, Abdulaziz was locked up in Triq al-Sikka, a grim prison in Tripoli, Libya. Why? Because the EU pays Libyan militias millions of euros to detain anyone deemed a possible migrant to Europe [...] A leaked EU internal memorandum in 2020 acknowledged that capturing migrants was now “a profitable business model” [...] in Triq al-Sikka and other detention centres, “acts of murder, enslavement, torture, rape and other inhumane acts are committed against migrants”, observed a damning UN report.

[the guardian]

Volunteers have logged more than 27,000 deaths by drowning since 1993, often hundreds at a time when large ships capsize. These account for nearly 80% of all the entries.

[the guardian]

Refugees and asylum seekers were punched, slapped, beaten with truncheons, weapons, sticks or branches, by police or border guards who often removed their ID tags or badges, the committee said in its annual report. People on the move were subject to pushbacks, expulsion from European states, either by land or sea, without having asylum claims heard. Victims were also subject to “inhuman and degrading treatment”, such as having bullets fired close to their bodies while they lay on the ground, being pushed into rivers, sometimes with hands tied, or being forced to walk barefoot or even naked across a border.

[the guardian]

In September, Greece opened a refugee camp on the island of Samos that has been described as prison-like. The €38m (£32m) facility for 3,000 asylum seekers has military-grade fencing and CCTV to track people’s movements. Access is controlled by fingerprint, turnstiles and X-rays. A private security company and 50 uniformed officers monitor the camp. It is the first of five that Greece has planned; two more opened in November.

[the guardian]

i could go on. i could cite dozens more similarly brutal news stories about horrific mistreatment, or any of the dozens of people who have killed themselves in the custody of border police under horrific conditions. the EU is a murderous institution that does not care about the lives of refugees and migrants or about the lives of the citizens of any member state that is not pursuing a vicious enough neoliberal political program

[ethereal27cereal]

Curls - Eddie Munson x Fem!Reader

part 2

summary: Eddie is getting ready to meet your parents for the first time after a year of dating. He is particularly nervous about impressing them, so you help him do his hair. And then help him relax a little 😉

warnings: smut 18+ MINORS DNI. established relationship, kissing, breast play, oral (f receiving), unprotected p in v sex (mention of birth control but still wrap it up and be safe 👍🏻), lots of sweet sappiness between Eddie and reader, reader has curly hair but it is not described in great detail, reader is implied as plus size but doesn’t have to be read that way, reader has relationship with both parents. I think that is it but let me know if I missed something.

genre: fluff, smut

word count: 4.9K

author’s note: I couldn’t get the idea out of my head about doing Eddie’s hair and so this just all kind of came rambling out. Any feedback is always appreciated 💕

may 1993

“You said I’m not supposed to brush it out when it’s dry, yeah?” Eddie asks, eyebrows scrunching together as he tries to remember your advice. He’d remembered the part about not washing his hair everyday, and has opted for just a quick shower, already dry and in his blue checkered boxers. But it is every other step that comes next that is making his palms sweat and doubt creep into his mind. 

Eddie is normally pretty particular about his appearance, he has his set look and he feels like he does it well - ripped jeans, white Reeboks, a wide variety of metal band t-shirts, an assortment of rings and chains, topped off by his signature fluffy, long mane. But today is different. 

He’s not just dressing to impress you, you always love the way he looks, but your parents…they might be a different story. Your parents are coming into town for the weekend and will finally get to meet Eddie after almost twelve months of dating. You can’t lie, you’re a bit nervous about introducing them to your long-haired, metal loving boyfriend, but Eddie looks like he could pass out every time you bring up the subject.

He has been fighting the urge to crawl out of his skin all week at the thought of meeting the people who are responsible for creating the woman he loves more than anything else in the world. And today is finally the day.

Eddie wants to look nice, maybe not suit and tie nice, but he definitely went out to buy a neat looking button down and a pair of unripped jeans at the last minute because nothing in his closet seemed appropriate enough to impress your parents. He wants you to be proud of him, proud to show him off, and he wants your parents not to curse his name and banish him from their existence when he tells them he’s planning on proposing to you. 

So he will do his hair, put on clothes that make him feel like he might suffocate, and put on his warmest smile to impress what he hopes are his future in-laws.

He hesitates before grabbing the hairbrush off the counter and turns toward you, freshly clean and dripping wet as you step out of the shower. Even after nearly a year together, Eddie still has to steady his racing thoughts and keep himself from gaping at your naked form. His eyes trace a path up and down your body, drinking in all the delicious curves he feels lucky to have become so intimately familiar with. 

Before answering, you bend down, abundant rounded breasts swaying slightly as you shift from side to side to begin forming the ringlets of your own curls, a cascade of water droplets darting out to hit his bare chest. Years of practice allow you to make quick work of the ringlets, looping them into place deftly before scrunching over them with a light layer of gel. 

“Yeah, only brush it when it’s wet. You’ll lose the curl definition and maybe damage your curls if you’re dry brushing a lot,” you remind him sweetly before continuing on with your routine. 

Eddie gapes, mesmerized at the process as you swing your hair from side to side, tummy and breasts jiggling temptingly as you move about. You twirl a few errant curls around your fingers and gaze at yourself in the mirror, smirking as you catch him staring in the reflection. Satisfied with your mane, you reach to grab your towel and roughly run it over your arms before bringing one foot up on the edge of the tub to dry your legs. 

Eddie watches intently as you rub the plush warm towel over your body, moving down your chest and over your tummy to your legs. The way the swell of your breasts rests against the gentle rolls of your belly has his cock stirring against the pilled cotton of his boxers. He tries to tamp down the feelings, but the nerves make him needy and he wants the comfort that can only come from your touch.

“Let me help you with that,” Eddie smirks with his quick suggestion, replacing your hands with his own as he brings the towel up from your legs and to your breasts. You roll your eyes playfully, but can never really deny him and his pretty persistent desires to touch you. 

His chocolatey brown eyes glow as he gently squeezes and massages both of your tits, clearly not with the intent of actually drying you off. With a skillful familiarity, he pinches and tweaks your nipples through the thick cotton, making your knees momentarily wobble and you find yourself biting your lip to keep yourself from moaning. He gives you a cocky smirk before pulling his hands and the towel away. 

“Gotta check and see if they’re dry,” he insists, his needy hands now palming around the full weight of your breasts and heaving them upwards and together, creating one of his favorite sights in the world. A pleased hum rumbles from the back of his throat and he dips his head down to place a tender kiss to the petal soft flesh on the top of your breasts. 

“Hmm, still a little wet I think,” Eddie proposes, quirking his eyebrows at you as he grabs for the towel again. Your breath hitches in anticipation as Eddie lifts one breast at a time and gently swipes the towel under each ample globe. 

He drops the towel to the floor between your feet, but his hand doesn’t leave your chest, still offering teasing squeezes to each breast. With a sudden molten look in his eyes, his head drops back down to your tits, tenderly tugging your peaked nipple in between his teeth. Mewling moans and sighs freely escape your lips as he lavishes you with attention, sucking and swirling his tongue around the aching bud. 

Your tummy flutters wildly and a growing heat begins to coil in your core when he releases your nipple from his mouth with a wet pop and moves further up your pillowy breast, leaving soft lilac bruises in his wake. He sets in on devouring you with a growl, strong arms snaking around your soft waist when your knees finally do fully buckle and you melt against his chest. 

“Eddie,” his name comes out as a breathy moan from your lips. 

“Mmm, you taste so good baby, I need you,” his words blow warm against the column of your throat and it takes everything in you not to give yourself fully to him, right then and there against the bathroom sink. 

“Eddie, we can’t. We gotta get ready, I don’t want to be late,” you sigh, tugging slightly at his curls to pull him away from your neck. He moves away, scowling at his sudden eviction, but his hands stay firmly gripped around your waist, holding you to him. 

“Fine. But help me do my hair, please. I don’t have it down quite as well as you do,” he relents with a sigh, placing a lingering kiss on your cheek. “Lemme just wet it first, I guess,” Eddie turns toward the sink and begins to run the water, dipping his head down to dunk it underneath the stream. 

“Hey, whoa, let’s maybe use the spray bottle. The bathroom is going to be a sopping wet mess that way,” you suggest with a laugh, pulling him away from the sink and ushering him toward the closed toilet to sit down. You pull out your spray bottle, special brush, and detangler spray, ready to make some magic with Eddie’s curly mane.

“The spray bottle always makes me feel like I’ve been bad and I’m getting scolded,” his expression turns into a grimace and he cringes away from the misting spray. 

“Some dark secrets coming out here, my love, did you get scolded with a spray bottle, Eddie?” you ask with an incredulous laugh, pausing your hand that is on the spray bottle. 

“I mean, if I was being super naughty…” he begins with a sheepish grin.

“Which you often are…” you conclude playfully, but nod for him to finish his story. 

“Uncle Wayne had one to use on the stray cats around the trailer park. We liked to feed them and watch them play around, but sometimes they would get a little feisty and try to fight each other. So he always had his handy dandy spray bottle in case he had to break up a fight,” he recounts thoughtfully, a boyish beaming smile plastered to his face.

“And if I was ever being too feisty and trying to get into fights, or just especially pissing him off, he had no qualms about spraying me right in the face with that spray bottle. He got me right in the eye one time,” Eddie chuckles and looks up at you, honest brown eyes searching your expression. 

“Honestly, seems like a pretty good method for keeping you in line, Munson,” you smirk, holding the spray bottle somewhat threateningly in front of him.

“Ahhh no, please,” he whines in protest and waves a dramatic hand in front of him, tilting back away from you.

“Don’t worry, I won’t. I have other ways of making you behave,” you tease, suggestively waving your tits in his face as you begin to lightly mist the back of his head. With a happy grumble, he buries his face in your breasts, using his hands to mush them together around his cheeks. He inhales deeply before pulling his face away from the soft pillowy flesh, the scent of your body wash and your naturally sweet smell lingering in his nostrils. 

“I think I like your way of making me behave better,” Eddie nods thoughtfully, settling into position as you begin to spray his curls again. You carefully cover his face with your palm as you mist his feathery bangs. He blindly reaches out to flick on the boombox and turns the track to your latest favorite, and even though it isn’t metal, it has become one of his favorites just because of how much you love it. 

Dolores O’Riordan’s lilting voice echoes through the small bathroom as you bop along to the ringing guitars in the intro of Dreams, and Eddie can’t help but smile. Never in his wildest dreams did he think he would be sitting in a bathroom, listening to The Cranberries, and getting his hair finger curled by the naked woman he is madly in love with. Your sweet hesitant voice begins to sing along, just barely above a whisper, but Eddie trains his ear to listen to every word. 

And now I tell you openly

You have my heart so don't hurt me

You're what I couldn't find

A totally amazing mind

So understanding and so kind

You're everything to me

Eddie feels his chest clench and tighten at the lyrics, biting back the lump that was forming in his throat. He knows he’s being a bit silly and dramatic, but the words feel like they’re meant for him, for you, for your relationship together.

His life hasn’t been easy, he doesn’t complain often, but it has made him hard around the edges. But ever since you have come into his life, everything is softness. Your touch, your heart, your smile, your words, your body. Like being wrapped in a plush warm blanket after a long draining day, the feeling of coming home. You are soft, pillowy, and welcoming. And it makes all of the hardness and bitterness inside him weaken, leaving only softness and warmth behind. 

You have made quick work of his curls, lightly brushing out the knots as you sing along. You sway to the rhythm while finger coiling some face framing pieces, pausing suddenly when you notice the gentle wobbling of Eddie’s chin as he ducks his head and tries to swipe away a stray tear. 

“Hey, what’s up buttercup?” you sooth, setting down your brush and lifting his chin to look at you. His chocolate eyes are brimmed with tears waiting to fall, his pink cheeks flushing with embarrassment as he tries to hide. 

“Nothing, it’s dumb, I’m just being dumb,” Eddie swallows harshly and forces a thin smile. 

“Nuh uh, don’t talk about my handsome boyfriend like that. You’re not being dumb and whatever you are crying about is certainly not dumb,” you reassure sweetly, tenderly cupping his cheeks in your hands. 

“I..I…think I’m just really fucking stressed. With working so much lately and your parents coming into town, I think I just am really worried,” Eddie begins, his voice cracking with every other word.

“Worried about what?,” you ask innocently, trying not to think too hard about the ring box you  found in his jeans pocket when doing laundry last week. You try to fix your face into a look of oblivious concern, just in case your expressions betray you. 

“I want your parents to like me, and think I’m good enough for you. And don’t start saying ‘of course they will’. You have everything in your life all figured out, and I don’t feel like I have much going on to offer you, especially on just my lousy mechanics salary.  I know you don’t think of it that way, but I just want you to be proud of me and not feel ashamed of introducing me to your parents,” he finishes with a choked sound, and begins chewing on the inside of his cheek.

“Eddie, my love, I am immensely proud of you! I brag about you, your band, all of the  accomplishments you’ve made at the shop with your promotion, and pretty much everything about you to just about everyone I meet. And that includes my parents. They already know all about you, and already love you because I love you,” you insist, petting his bangs out of his eyes and whisking away a few more tears that threaten to fall from his lashes. He gazes up, nodding solemnly, but unable to form words that would even come close to an appropriate response to your endless kindness and support. 

“What can I do to help? We have about..30 more minutes before we have to leave, do you need cuddles?” you coo, a hint of condescension creeping into your voice as you see him perk up and begin to lick his lips in anticipation. He peeks up at you through his thick lashes, plump lips turned down in a frown for extra dramatic effect. 

“Not just cuddles, sweetheart, I need you. I need to be inside you,” he pouts, hands coming up to rest on the swell off your ass, squeezing and testing the fullness of both cheeks. You nod, biting your lip seductively as you pull him up to stand with you. With a strangled moan, Eddie’s lips are crashing against yours, biting and licking with an insatiable need that makes your heart stutter in your chest. 

He begins to guide you backwards toward your shared bedroom, using your butt to steer you away from walls and other sharp furniture. The backs of your knees bump against the bed, and in one swift motion, Eddie tosses you up onto the mattress with a pillowy plop. Despite his slight frame, sinewy muscles lurk beneath his pale skin and he doesn’t seem to expend any significant effort as he tugs you further up the bed so your head is resting against the soft downy pillows. 

Eddie settles back into the kiss, making a sloppy claim on your mouth before raining a million wet kisses down your body. His touch is needy and hungry, anything but patient as he leaves hasty bites against the swell of your breasts, grabbing hands spreading your legs wide as he dips his head down further. Out of habit, you go to tangle your fingers into his hair, guiding his kisses where you need him most, but stop suddenly when you see the fresh delicate ringlets in your fingertips. 

“Wait, baby, I’m going to fuck up your hair if you do that right now. Later. I need you to…” you try to finish your thoughts before he flicks his tongue teasingly against your clit, words dissolving into a breathy gasp as you impulsively arch up against his tongue. 

“Mmm, what do you need, princess? Tell me what you need,” Eddie growls against your heat, licking a teasing stripe up your slit before looking up into your eyes for an answer, smoldering pools of burnt caramel gazing at you intently. 

“Fuck, Eddie…I need…I need you to fill me up, please,” you pant breathlessly, fingers flexing and gripping the sheets so you don’t mess up his curls. 

“With my fingers…?” he wiggles a teasing digit inside, your walls immediately spasm and clench around his finger with frantic need, tossing your head back into the pillow without a care for your own wet curls. 

“Or does this tight little pussy need more?” he asks with a sly grin, suddenly pulling his finger from your wetness and dipping it in his mouth. “Fuck, sweetheart, you taste so good,” he hums as he pops his pointer finger out of his lips and crawls up from between your thighs.

“Eddie, please, I need you to fuck me, now,” you huff and whine, pulling him back up to eye level with you. 

“Jeez, lovey, somebody sure is needy. And you act like I’m the sex crazed one around h…” he begins teasingly, but is cut off with a choked groan as you reach down to wrap your hand around his cock. You guide his swollen tip through your silky folds, both of you shaking in anticipation before he plunges in. His lips immediately find yours again, gasps and moans overflowing between your lips when he buries himself deep inside your molten core. 

He steadies himself for a moment, letting you throb and flex around him while you adjust to the delicious sting of being so filled by him. Your hands grip wildly at his shoulders and you kiss a frantic path across the small portion of his chest, biting at the skull and spider inked against his collarbone. 

“Christ you feel so fucking amazing, so tight and wet for me,” his voice shakes as he begins to set a steady pace. Slowly pumping his thick length all the way in and drawing back out in a dizzying rhythm that has you almost immediately seeing stars. You squeeze your eyes shut, trying to focus on lasting more than a few moments despite the blooming heat beginning to rise in your tummy and take over. Yours and Eddie’s moans and sighs along with the filthy slapping sounds of sex fills the room, and your sounds only become more unabashedly loud when he snakes a hand in between your bodies to rub against your sensitive clit. 

Your ears ring and your legs begin to tremble, your release boiling and bubbling in your core, ready to explode. You babble incoherently, something about being close and not wanting it to be over yet, not sure any of that comes out as intelligible words until Eddie responds. 

“That’s alright, come for me my love, I want to feel you cum all over my cock,” he coos, calloused thumb pressing delicate circles against your clit and you feel yourself unwind. With a strangled scream, your body is shaking, inner walls fluttering wildly around his girth. “That’s it, that’s my pretty girl. Such a good girl coming so hard for me,” his voice is intoxicatingly deep, filled with heat and desire as he watches you unravel at his touch. 

Before your vision fully clouds over, your eyes flicker open, needing to look up at the love of your life. Eddie is gazing down at you, chocolate brown eyes blown into inky pools full of love, tongue poking out of the corner of his mouth in concentration as he tries to keep a steady pace with you writhing underneath him. You reach up to cup his cheek, whispering a breathy ‘I love you’ as you begin to slowly come back to your senses.

“Christ, sweetheart, I love you too, but you’re driving me crazy. I can still taste you on my lips and I need to be down there so fucking bad right now,” Eddie groans and suddenly pulls out of you, leaving you with an empty throbbing feeling as you reach to bring him back to you. But he’s already down with his face in between your legs, strong hands pushing your thighs down to the mattress so you’re well out of his way. He gently tucks the stray curls framing his face behind his ears and gives you a sheepish grin. 

“You’re going to hold my hands so you’re not tempted to mess up my hair, but I’m going to make you come on my tongue. And if that makes us late, then so be it,” he affirms and reaches up to tangle his fingers in yours, holding them firmly against your still wobbly thighs. 

Without another word, he dives in, licking and sucking your sensitive folds. His movements are frenzied and hungry, determined to consume every bit of you like a man starved. He sucks and nips harshly at your clit, before slithering his tongue downward to delve inside your quivering hole. He sets a punishing rhythm, knowing just exactly where to lick and kiss to make you a whimpering mess. 

Within a skillfully short amount of time, he brings you back to the edge again. You buck your hips against his tongue and lips, trying to fight your way towards release as the crushing pressure is building in your belly once again. He steadies you with your intertwined fingers, keeping you from floating away and losing your mind.

“Just let go, my love, I know you’re right there. I can feel it. Just let go for me,” he purrs in between sloppy licks and kisses to your folds, tugging them in his lips before releasing the petal like flesh with a pop. With another high pitched moan, you’re tumbling into the precipice of your orgasm. Your body courses with electricity as he delivers a few more harsh kisses to your overly sensitive bud and you fight and writhe to release your hands from his to grab at him. But he doesn’t let you. He keeps your hands tangled with his in a gentle firmness that leaves you feeling even more weak and lightheaded. 

Before you’ve had a chance to catch your breath, he’s back up on his knees, pulling you by your hips to meet him and sliding a pillow under your butt for added support. Eddie thrusts his cock back inside you with a chesty groan, head lolling back against his shoulders as he hits against your spongy soft center. He pounds into you with the same intensity and hunger he had when he’d tasted you, relentless and needy to fill you up and feel you all around him. Eddie’s eyes never leave your face as he reaches up to play with your breasts, a whimpered sigh leaving his lips as he pinches your pebbled peak between his thumb and forefinger. 

You suddenly feel overwhelmed with it all, his intense gaze seeing you, all of you, the love that burns where your bodies meet, and another orgasm slowly winding a tight coil in your core. You clench your eyes tight again and throw an arm over your face, trying to hide from the gut wrenching intimacy that happens every time you’re with Eddie like this. 

“Look at me, sweetheart, please, I want to see you when I come,” he gently pulls your arm away from your face, lacing your fingers together and rubbing a comforting pattern on the back of your hand as he urges you to open your eyes. Despite your heavy lids and burning cheeks, you open your eyes, met with his sweet beaming smile. 

“There you are, my love. So beautiful, so fucking beautiful,” he whispers, his face pinching in pleasure as you clench involuntarily around him. 

“Fuck, I’m gonna come. I’m gonna come so hard,” he warns shakily, gasping and panting but still never looking away from you. You nod in response to his warning, pressing him on with a whimpered ‘please’ as you feel your own release finally creeping over you. A third flash of pleasure seeps into your veins and you throb weakly around his thrusting cock, sending him over to his own release. 

Eddie rattles off a string of babbled praises, your name and words of unending love leaving his lips as he pumps you full of his seed. He shutters and you feel a final warm surge of his climax spurt into you, coating your walls and marking you as his. The thought of anyone having that kind of claim over you would’ve made you sick in the past, too possessive and all encompassing. But with Eddie, that’s all you wanted. To be his and for him to be yours. 

“You are so gorgeous like this, well I mean, you are gorgeous all the time. But god, when I come inside you and I look down and there you are, the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen, I feel like I’m losing my fucking mind,” he confesses with a babbling sincerity that you will never ever grow tired of. You blush and hide your eyes behind your fingers, peeking through them to see him grinning at you. 

“I love you so much,” he sighs, resting his hands on the slope of your hips as he grows soft inside you. 

“I love you so much, Eddie,” you smile, reaching down to squeeze his fingers gently.

With a hiss, he pulls out of you, propping himself up on his elbow to watch his cum slowly slide out of you. Eddie smirks and in tenderly possessive motion, he pools the release in his fingers and pushes it back inside you. 

“That belongs in there,” he tsks, booping your clit with his pointer finger before sitting up with a grin plastered on his face. 

“I mean, my handy dandy birth control is going to say otherwise but…” you reply with a chuckle, sitting up on shaky elbows to look at him. He shakes his head and shrugs, curls bouncing around his pretty face. 

“I just want you to remember who came inside you and made you come three fucking times while we’re sitting there with your parents and they’re grilling me about my intentions with their daughter,” he concludes, hopping up from the bed and pulling on his boxers. 

“So that was your little plan? Remind me how much you’re worth keeping around with how hard and fast you can get me off just in case tonight goes south?” you guffaw, knowing that wasn’t truly his plan, but ribbing him nonetheless. You stand up from the bed, and immediately buckle. He holds out a hand as your wobbly knees threaten you again, but you manage to steady yourself against him. 

“Well, I mean it’s true. I do make you come,” he pecks a cheeky kiss against your lips, “a lot. And I do want to remind you of that. All the time. But I just needed you. And hey look, we aren’t even going to be late,” he points out happily, gesturing towards the glowing red alarm clock on your bedside. 

You weren’t going to be late, but you both definitely need to hurry to dress and get out the door. With nimble fingers, you help Eddie button his shirt, smoothing over the soft wrinkles that he had neglected to press out. You toss on your dress, settling for something simple but classic paired with a dainty set of opal earrings Eddie had gifted you for your birthday. 

Eddie sighs, finally dry curls bobbing around his face as he gazes into the full length mirror, no ripped jeans, no band t-shirt, no rings or chains, dressed head to toe in an outfit that makes him look like a schoolboy. He frowns at his appearance, trying to hide his expression when he sees you peer over his shoulder. 

“You look great, but you don’t look like you,” you ponder, scurrying away to grab a few things off his dresser, the heavy objects clinking in your palm as you bounce back to him. 

You slip behind him, securing his signature chain with a guitar pick around his throat before slithering around to his front to undo a few shirt buttons, framing the glittering chain against his pale collarbones. You grab his left hand, slipping on the grinning skull, pig, and cross in a neat row on his pointer, middle, and ring fingers respectively. With a tender motion, you slip his bejeweled class ring on the ring finger of his right hand. 

You step back, admiring your handiwork before lightly fluffing your fingers through his curls. Eddie practically glows under your gaze, soft wavy ringlets haloed around his head, ochre eyes shining with fear, hope, and love. 

“There, much better. Still the Eddie I know and love but with a twist,” you beam up at him before grabbing his shaking hand and giving it a reassuring squeeze. He nods and puffs out his cheeks with a great sigh.

“Ready?” you ask, leading him slowly toward the front door.

“Ready.” 

Little taglist of people who I thought might want to read: @boomhauer​ @wtf-lindsay​ @seidenbros​ @thisishellfire​ @wroteclassicaly​ @a-time-for-wolvess​ @kissmecaiti​ 

[unknownperson246]

Hey i was wondering if you could do one of Izzy Stradlin but in around late 1991-93 with the dreads, like this photo (I’ll send)

I was thinking he could go real hard n shi like yelling at you, growling, just losing his mind over the desire. Then after the fucking during dirty talk he notices he hurt you a bit since how rough he’s been, so he calms down, takes care of you and cleans you up + makes sure you go to next class safely etc

hiii I’m so very sorry it’s late. I hope you enjoy it 🩵🩵

Losing His Mind:

Words: 973

warnings: *smut* fluff* *p in v* *cussing* *age gap* *daddy kink* *degradation* *rough sex* *Izzy is a professor* *praise kink* *aftercare*

✮⋆˙ ☠︎︎ ★☠︎ ✮⋆˙✮⋆˙ ☠︎︎ ★☠︎ ✮⋆˙✮⋆˙ ☠︎︎ ★☠︎ ✮⋆˙✮⋆˙ ☠︎︎ ★☠︎ ✮

It was the year 1993. You were in a classroom alone with your geography professor. You and Izzy were in an empty classroom. No other souls in sight besides the two of you. His tall naked skinny figure standing in front of you getting ready to demolish your views and feelings about sex with any other man besides him. His cock throbbing, feeling the urge to be inside of you already. You took a deep interest in him. Your obsession with him started when you first started college but you were too shy to say anything to him up until today when you wanted him so badly. You were very needy. While you were deep in your thoughts about how all of this started you felt a hand tugging harshly on your hair. He wanted you so bad. He was going insane over the desire of you. He pulled on your hair making you move towards him. He put his cock inside of you. He immediately pulled out once he realized you were doing it a different way. “Fuck Y/N,” He yelled at you in your face while his cock was moving around on your bare thigh.

“You're doing it wrong,” He said while you both were in the middle of intercourse.

“Well please teach me then Professor Izzy” You let out a moan as you smirk at him.

“Don’t fucking get smart with me dumbass.” He yells.

“You little fucking whore. Aren't you just a needy slut?” He says spitting on your face. He put himself back at your entrance and entered without one warning. He was growling at you like an animal and it scared you. You knew he was going to give the best he had with all of his energy. You loved seeing him this way. You wanted to see Izzy like this all the time but today you must have triggered something in him. It was something you did earlier that made him angry. He already had a suppressed feeling of lust toward you that you triggered. Izzy puts his hands on your hips. He pushes you a bit so you are leaned up on his table so you don’t fall over and hurt yourself. He 

“Izzy it hurts” You cry out trying to communicate that he is hurting you.

“You can take it!” He yells at you. 

“Fuck yeah, I can Daddy,” You say.

His thrusts keep getting even more and more rough when you call him daddy. 

“I love it when I can feel you squeeze around me,” He says, losing his mind over you.

“Iz,” You moan, holding onto his shoulders.

You look at him in his eyes.

“It drives me crazy when you look at me like that” He says each word breathlessly.

“Don’t stop, I'll go harder” You moan.

“I am about to come” You scream.

“Go On” Izzy grabs your neck while thrusting deep inside of you. He keeps on getting rougher with each thrust to the point where you almost bleed. 

Your head goes back while his hands are supporting your neck. Your legs shake but your hands don’t let go of his hips. You hold on for dear life trying not to fall back. Every part of your body wants to give up but you keep on going. Your stomach knots up even more and you release your come on his cock that was begging to be inside of you. He leaves kisses and bite marks on your neck.

“Izzy,” You say, catching your breath.

He feels himself having an orgasm as soon as you have yours. His head flew back against the chalkboard. A few rays of sun hit his eyes and you could see the true color of his beautiful eyes. They were hazel. His hair gleamed a true light brown in the sun. His dreads flew out of his face to the back once his head tilted. He was taking deep and heavy breaths as grunts escaped his mouth. You were mesmerized at the sight of him having his orgasm. You observed everything around you. It was amazing watching him have an orgasm. While he pulled out strings of come followed. The strings went down your thigh. He noticed that you were bleeding at the neck. “Shit, did I bite too hard?” He asked in a soft tone making sure you were okay.

“Yeah, it's nothing,” You say with your fingers tracing over the bloody marks.

He goes to his desk and grabs his first aid kit. He pulls out some alcohol and a cotton pad. He applies some cleansing alcohol to the cotton pad before warning you.

“This is going to sting,” He says.

You nod showing him that you approve. You grit your teeth once you feel the alcohol making contact with your small wound. 

“I’m sorry for all the stuff I said. I didn't mean it. It was me being mean only for role play” He says smiling at you.

“I know. I didn't take it personally” You say back. 

He puts clothes on after he helps you take care of yourself. He helps you fix your clothes once they are on. He helped with your tangled jewelry and your hair. He cleans you up with a wet napkin so you don’t look sweaty. He cleans off the come with the same wet napkin. 

“Did you get any of it on your clothes?” He asks you.

“No Izzy,” You say smiling. 

“Y/N please call me Professor Izzy when we aren't alone. I don't want anyone finding out that we see each other” He says smiling. 

“Sure. Professor Izzy” You say winking at him while you're at the door to leave.

He watches you walk to your next class making sure you safely get to your destination. 

[randomfoggytiger]

The X-Files: the Madonna-Whore Complex

(Credit to @cecilysass, whose comment got these thoughts going.)

I have a theory.

In the fandom, the Madonna-whore complex is often attributed to Chris Carter's handling of Dana Scully. And, while I didn't give it much weight at first, going through his old interviews gave me pause.

THE CHRIS CARTER ANGLE

From 1993 to 1998 (where I stopped reading), Chris repeatedly stated that Mulder and Scully were (are) both sides of himself: “I’m equal parts of both characters,” says their creator. “I’m a skeptic like Scully, but I’m also ready to be enraptured, like Mulder.” Mulder represented his want to believe (and inner darkness-- which he doesn't outright state... but doesn't dissuade others from thinking, either) and Scully represented his skepticism with the paranormal or faith. A lot of his personal details leaked through into their lives-- Hegel Place, California childhood, a sunflower seed habit-- and his personal philosophy-- “Trusting people, generally, is bad,” he says with a slight smile-- became the backbone of the show. He used interesting turns of phrase when discussing his characters' names: "I grew up in L.A. where Vin Scully was the voice of God. Dana is just a nice soft woman’s name I like" and Carter gave The X-Files’ Mulder his mother’s maiden name.... And, as we all know, the repeating 10/13 and 11/21 are his (and Mulder's) birthday and his wife's birthday, respectively.

It could be as simple as a showrunner incorporating himself into his work... or it can make a lot of sense regarding Mulder and Scully's sexual misadventures.

Does this point to Chris Carter being a "puritan", shunning all sexual allusion? He seemed to be willing to hint at more-- letting Tea Leoni suggest a naked Gillian be cheek to cheek with David Duchovny, and teasingly gazing at David's deleted rear shot-- and was even persuaded to leave in the Millennium and Existence kisses (not to mention writing or cosigning the I Want to Believe "scratchy beard" scene.) But does a little lip-locking or a little nudity knock down the "never-nude" angle?

Ultimately, I think speculations on CC's "quirks" are fruitless: unless the man himself sits down and gives a clearer "yes" or "no", it would be equivalent to shooting blanks in the dark. Besides, the parallels don't need to be directly tied to his personal life to inform the decisions of (and for) his characters.

The parallels, though, can't be denied.

MADONNA-WHORE, SCULLY-MULDER

To draw back to the main point: both Scully and Mulder had complicated sexual hang-ups.

Scully wasn't "allowed" to definitively have sex with Ed Jerse while Mulder was only "allowed" sex under duress. Scully was "allowed" to go on normal dates while Mulder was only "allowed" porn fantasies (Chinga, Kill Switch, First Person Shooter) and an on-call phone sex operator. Scully was "allowed" past healthy relationships (except for the one Gillian created, ahem ahem) while Mulder wasn't "allowed" to have anything resembling joy or stability in his past.

All this to say: I think Mulder and Scully are two sides of the Madonna-whore complex: Scully is the Madonna, Mulder is the whore.

It makes sense, too: Scully followed the rules and was "too smart" to get entangled with people who degraded or hurt her-- which made her a little inhuman (according to Morgan, Wong, and Gillian.) Mulder too easily blurred professional lines-- which made him easily seduced by those who intended to harm him. Phoebe Green-- as written by CC-- mentioned Mulder's illicit past activities to draw him back in; and Never Again-- as vetoed by CC-- kept an element of denial about Scully and Jerse's bedroom activities.

(Scully herself was compared to the Virgin Mary once in canon-- though it was not, it appears, Chris Carter who gunned for the imagery; nor was it the writers' and director's intent to be anything other than a metaphor that was "on-theme" for the seasonal episode:

March 14, 1998

Q #16 – Hi, my name is Deborah. Two of my favorite episodes from this season are “Christmas Carol” and “Emily” and I found myself in some heated discussions with other fans who felt Scully was turned into a mere victim, that the religious iconography was heavy handed, being beaten over the head with the Virgin Mary / Scully kind of thing. None of which I agree with. I wondered if you could talk a little about the religious iconography in those two episodes and how you work that kind of thing in and was it as self-conscious as everyone else thinks it is?

FS – ...When we began again, we also took the Dickens story, A Christmas Carol, as our lead. So suddenly the story came together very fast and actually was one of the most satisfying to write for the three of us.

The use of the manger at the very beginning of “Christmas Carol” was deliberate. The idea of a “virgin birth” was conscious. I think the one image in that two parter that people really felt was heavy handed or was laying onto Scully as Virgin Mary idea was at the end of “Emily” there is a very slow dissolve to the stained glass and that was an image that the director chose to use because it was there on the set that day and all of us liked it. But I don’t think that we meant to suggest that she was anyway equivalent to the Virgin Mary and simply thought that, you know, it was a Christmas story and those parallels deepened the story we were telling.

Still.)

The Madonna-whore/Scully-Mulder complex explains a lot a lot a lot about their complicated sex lives.

If that be the case (whether consciously or subconsciously), it makes sense why Chris Carter only wrote a kiss for them after the world didn't end. Biblical mythology and fate were always his favorite tools, after all.

A RUN DOWN

The Jersey Devil-- written by Chris Carter-- is the first episode to tackle the boundaries of this theoretical complex.

Mulder introduces the theme with a porn magazine, at work.

Scully has to drive back to a birthday party, and Mulder immediately balks over the idea of her on a possible date.

Scully considers "a life", agrees to go out with Rob to a perfectly respectable establishment, and dances around the topic uncomfortably with Mulder later.

Mulder wants her to cancel-- not out of romantic jealousy, but because their working relationship might be hindered if her interests were divided elsewhere.

"Unlike you, Mulder, I would like to have a life"/"I have a life" brazenly slaps that motif down; and Scully on her respectable date, Mulder drawing nude jersey devil women at work, Mulder forming a charmed connection with a wild woman, Mulder getting peeved over Rob's call, and Scully leaving Rob for a place by Mulder's side continues to nail it home.

Mulder lunges for the lurid, the alluring, the impossible, with nothing but empty promises and unfulfilled expectations to show for his efforts. That pattern holds for romantic-- Fire, 3, War of the Coprophages, Syzygy (to a degree), The Field Where I Died, Kill Switch, Amor Fati, First Person Shooter-- and platonic-- Deep Throat, Krycek, CSM, Diana Fowley, sundry allies in-between-- relationships. "You think he [Deep Throat] does this because he gets off on it?" he challenged Scully, stunned when she responded, "No. I think he does it because you do."

Scully strides expectantly towards the normal, the stable, the predictable; and leaves all unsavory entanglements before they besmirch her dignity or self-worth (including the unconsummated romance with Daniel Waterston, according to Gillian Anderson.) Ed Jerse is an outlier, a symptom of how out-of-control Scully felt her life had become-- a rebellion against her expected or self-imposed or self-inflicted Madonna pedestal. "Hard to imagine, this day and age, someone having sex with a perfect stranger" played well with the medical concern of the AIDS epidemic and her distaste for losing control completely in the throes of passion.

When the Genderbender detective stated, "Guy blew an artery-- must be some roll-in-the-hay", Scully was annoyed immediately while Mulder looked a little too amused and intrigued.

CONCLUSION

I rest my case, Your Honor.

Thanks for reading~

Enjoy!

[turbulenthandholding]

Sydney's polka dots and Yayoi Kusama

I wrote about it a little bit here, in a reblog of @thoughtfulchaos773's really excellent post (and ongoing thread) about Carmy's polka dots in his sauce but I have wondered since my first watch of S3, if there is some reference in all of the polka dots (Sydney's except for Carmy's sauce) to the Japanese artist Yayoi Kusama.

Pumpkins and Fruits (1993)

Kusama is an artist who works in a number of mediums, including sculpting and painting, but who is primarily known for her works featuring polka dots, both paintings as well as installations of polka dots in mirrored rooms (as well as even live art installations with naked people painted with polka dots).

There's two threads in her art that I think are particularly interesting, if all of Sydney's polka dots are at all referential to Kusama's work: mental health and sexuality.

Mental Health

The genesis of polka dots in Kusama's art came from her childhood, where as early as age 10 she had hallucinations of spots.

“I translate the hallucinations and obsessional images that plague me into sculptures and paintings."

And from Wikipedia:

Kusama has been open about her mental health and has resided since the 1970s in a mental health facility which she leaves daily to walk to her nearby studio to work. She says that art has become her way to express her mental problems. "I fight pain, anxiety, and fear every day, and the only method I have found that relieved my illness is to keep creating art," she told an interviewer in 2012. "I followed the thread of art and somehow discovered a path that would allow me to live."

I think Sydney's polka dots, viewed through the lens of Kusama's art, could be an indication of the healthiness of using creativity and collaboration in the kitchen as a way to process and work through past trauma as well as anxiety. As Kusama's art has given her a path allowing life, as she said, Sydney's polka dots could represent that Carmy has a path to improved mental health and a better place through his collaboration with Syd and their mutual inspiration. Carmy spends a lot of season 3 doing things for Sydney instead of with her, and his reflection of her polka dots in his sauce stands out as a reflection and a growing recognition in him of the full depth of her importance to him.

Sexuality

Which brings me to the second potential reference to Kusama's work in the polka dots, which is a reference to sexuality.

Sexuality has played a very complicated and, even at times disturbing, role in Kusama's life and she has used her art as a way to process it and reconcile her sexuality with herself. She was traumatized early by an abusive mother who sent her to spy on her cheating father as he conducted his affairs, which led to a reaction towards anything sexual filled with a lot of disgust (understandably). Over the course of her career, she grappled more and more with her feelings on sexuality in her art, with many representation both of female and male genitals in her work. As one article says:

Her works often depict phallic shapes and repetitive patterns, which she has said are meant to represent the human obsession with sex and desire. Kusama’s art also explores themes of self-obliteration and the loss of self in the face of infinite repetition.

Phalli's Field (1965) - first mirrored room installation, filled with phallic shapes made out of fabric and cardboard, covered in polka dots.

From Stir World:

While the work circled back to the phallic motif, the design intervention of using mirrors created an architecture of infinite space. This was the beginning of what revolutionised her career so much so that in 2016, she was chosen as one of the world’s most influential people by TIME magazine. Since then, her exhibitions of infinity rooms like Love is Calling have had waiting lines of over five hours for a few seconds of viewing time. 

Especially when Kusama combines polka dots with mirrored infinity rooms as she calls them, there is very much a sense of both reflectivity and reflexivity that happens. An interesting example in terms of this discussion, Infinity Mirrored Room - Love Forever (1966/1994), the polka dots in this room being represented by round, colored light bulbs:

A description of the installation (emphasis mine):

Infinity Mirrored Room—Love Forever is an iteration of the second mirrored environment Kusama created. Sculptural, architectural, and performative, the installation blurs the lines between artistic disciplines and is activated by audience participation. Hexagonal in shape and mirrored on all sides, Love Forever features two peepholes that invite visitors to peer in and see both themselves and another participant repeated into infinity. 

Kusama used her polka dots, especially when integrated into more phallic shapes in reflective rooms, to process and come to grips with her sexuality. And if there was an intentional reference being made to her art in Sydney's proclivity towards polka dots in season 3, I think it's in Carmy's coopting of the imagery in his sauce. The reflective and reflexive gesture indicates his observation of her (in that he noticed her repeating the pattern over the course of months in her clothes and scarves) as well as his desire for her. At their best, they are vibrantly collaborative and we see each of them let the other in more than anyone else. And this isn't entirely comfortable for Sydney, seen in the way she deflects his questions about her parents and her apartment at different points. But she does eventually tell him more and let him in more - and I think the polka dots could also be a representation of her coming to grips with her feelings and ultimately desire towards/for him, as well as the importance of their collaborative relationship, especially with the difficulty of Carmy in S3 as well as her offer from Shapiro.

(Also as an aside, Yayoi Kusama's art comes up as a rather regular inspiration/collaboration in food and fine dining, so it feels like her art may at least have been on someone's radar as they thought about Syd's polka dots this season. See here and here and here and here and here - as created by a former chef from the French Laundry.)

Sources for info and pictures:

Yayoi Kusama's website

Understanding Sexuality in Yayoi Kusama's Art

Accumulation (MoMA)

Wikipedia

The Alchemist of Polka Dots

Love Forever

[justagirlwholikesadam]

Thank You

Johnny x FEM! Reader

Summary: Johnny finds himself in the comfort of your home after saving you.

A/n: I haven't read or seen a fanfic on him, maybe because his character is honestly a lot but I wanted to write something from the movie, Naked (1993) Mike Leigh. Enjoy-L

Warning: Johnny being Johnny, mention of rape and abuse, reader almost being SA, Johnny talks to himself, Johnny has a crush, act of stealing.

Word Count: 4K

The night was freezing more than usual and Johnny’s slim cheeks were red from the cold. His only source of warmth was the cigarette hanging loosely from his lips. He was leaning against a building trying to hide away from the harsh cold winds while watching the citizens of London walking up and down the streets.

His blue eyes pierced at whoever walked past him, they all looked happy, they all looked like they had somewhere to be unlike him. His hands shook from the cold and he placed them under his armpits trying to warm them up. It was futile, his whole body shook from the frigid air.

Shutting his eyes, he started to think about his next plan. Visiting his ex, Louise was a failure. It was pointless even after he hooked up with her roommate, Sophie. The dark haired girl, Sophie, excited him for a while. She had a pretty face and he slept with her but she caught feelings for him. That was a no go for him after Louise, he thinks being in love is pointless after she left him for a new job but he knew deep down she left him because of his ways. Cheating on her constantly and treating her badly. He realized perhaps it wasn't love. The tons of books he read that had love in it, was not the same he had for Louise. He was lonely that's why he had Louise around, he had her for the nights when he couldn't sleep and he needed something warm.

Johnny sighs to himself as he remembers Sophie following him, following his every move, telling him that she loves him and understands him. He slept with her one more time and hit her head against the arm of the couch multiple times making her understand he wasn't a good guy. A part of him, like it though. Being bigger than her but his attraction towards her turned into disgust. She didn't have any standards. Still following him around like a puppy after what he just did to her.

His stomach growled and he can’t recall when was the last time he ate. The girl from the diner was kind to him, she reminded him of a mouse. A depressed mouse, she looked so sad when he mentioned it to her. She went crazy, forcing him to leave her house after she had invited him in. He cursed at her nasty words and he felt bad for a moment, just a brief second. So now, he was out in the freezing cold and his stomach was aching for something.

His eyes shot open when he heard laughter, it was a nice sound. He can’t recollect when was the last time he actually laughed, a genuine laugh. One of those laughs that made your stomach hurt and left you out of breath.

“That’s what I told him.” You told your friend on the phone, crossing the street. Your body shivered when a gust of wind blew. In the corner of your eye you see a tall man with shaggy hair. He looked sickly and his dark clothes were blending in the night.

You nodded, a hello at him when you caught his eyes, you kept walking, telling your friend to repeat what she just said.

Johnny looks at you as you keep walking. You had seen him, Johnny is so used to being in the background, invisible to the human eyes. You had seen him and greeted him like a human with decency.

He’s been standing by the building for hours and no one had even caught his eyes. Johnny looked at them, but they would just simply ignore them and continue on. Johnny is an observer, he’s always been since he was a child. So when a man passed him, he looked at him and it didn't take Johnny long to see the man was holding a knife. He spotted it and he saw a glimmer of the steel of the knife shine under the street lamps.

He saw you stopped by the corner, waiting for the light to turn red so you could pass. You got off the phone. Tugging your bag close to your body, you stuffed your hands inside the pockets of your coat for warmth. Johnny followed the man, throwing the bud of the cigarette on the sidewalk.

Johnny’s quick on his feet, he hears the man breathing heavily. Million thoughts rushed through Johnny's head. The man was thinking of robbing you, perhaps the man was going to kill you or worse. In Johnny's eyes, you were a pretty thing and by the way that the man was following you. That man was going to do the worst thing to you. Unaware of the man coming up behind you. You started to walk across the street when the light turned.

You hear a shout and you look over your shoulder to see a man in a black puffer jacket and a beanie. His dark eyes were wide and his mouth was parted open as he stared at you. He licked his lips as he looked up and down at you. You saw the man standing by the building running behind him and wrapping his arms around the man with the knife as he shouted once more.

You gasped when you saw the knife and without a single thought you swung your purse at the man holding the knife. Johnny released the man when he saw you were about to swing.

You swung your purse at the man’s face. The man with the knife came tumbling down like a sack of potatoes on the sidewalk.

Johnny heard you shout as you swung your bag over the man’s head.

“Motherfucker! You son of a bitch!” Johnny took a step back as you kept swinging. He kicked the knife to the road before the man would wake up and grab it.

"Thank you." You told him before sliding your bag up on your shoulders. Johnny doesn't know what to say. He doesn't recall being thanked before.

The man groaned before falling unconscious on the ground. You look up at Johnny.

"Jesus, love. What you got in that bag?" Johnny asked you as you stepped back from the man on the ground.

Johnny watched as you open your bag and pulled out a glass Tupperware with a hydro flask.

"Should we call the cops? Or the ambulance?" You asked Johnny and shakes his head.

"That asshole wanted to rob you. Probably rape you and you want to call an ambulance for him?" He asked you.

"You're right. Fuck him." Johnny nodded like that response better. That piece of shit didn't deserves your kindness. You were about to walk away when you remember he was waiting by the building.

"Were you waiting for someone over there?" You asked him and he shook his head at you.

You felt bad, leaving him in the cold. He did help you, without his shout. You surely would have been dead. He was nice enough to run and wrap his arms around him to stop him.

“Do you have a place to stay?” You asked as you shivered when another gust of wind blew.

Johnny shook his head once more. “Come on then.”

Johnny doesn’t think he heard you right. His brows knitted in confusion when you turn to start walking and look over your shoulder at him.

“Come on. I’m freezing my tits off.” You said. You hear him behind you.

“I swear if you try anything. I’ll hit you so hard with my bag.” Johnny keeps looking at you. He’s walking next to you and he can see your face up close. You are absolutely beautiful, he thinks to himself. It was a short walk and he followed you into a building. Opening the glass door, you hold it out for him. Walking inside he notices there's another door.

“Excuse me.” He hears you say softly and he feels you brush against him when you take out your keys from your bag. Johnny stares down at you and you unlock the door. Opening the door, you shoot him a smile and he can’t help but smile back. It wasn’t one of those fake smiles that he always received from other people. Your smile was genuine.

“I'm just down the hall.” You tell him as you shut the door after he walks in. The inside of the building was dingy and he notices there’s a staircase to the right side of the hall. He follows you down the hall and notices the welcome mat in front of your apartment. The white paint on the door was chipping and the number of the door was hanging upside down.

Johnny doesn’t say anything. He was just grateful that he found a place to stay for the night. Somewhere warm, he didn’t want to sleep another night in the park, especially in the cold. He rubs his hands tighter for warmth as you open the door.

“Come in.” You tell him and he enters first. The lights turned on and your apartment was the complete opposite of outside the hallway. The hallway was dark and grimy, while the inside of your apartment was colorful. He steps into the room and notices a light brown couch in the middle of the room. There’s a small tv in front of it. He notices the large bookshelf next to a window.

“I’ll get started on dinner. You must be hungry.” You say walking past him, dropping your bag on the coffee table.

Removing your coat, Johnny takes note of your clothes. You wore black leggings with an oversized sweater. You turned to hang your coat and his eyes looked down to see your ass.

“You okay?” You turn to him when you realize he hasn’t spoken.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t introduce myself. I’m -.” Johnny repeats your name and looks down to see your hand is out for him to shake.

“I’m Johnny.” He says shaking your hand. You jumped when you felt how cold his hands were.

“You poor thing.” You say rubbing your hands with his to warm them up. Johnny doesn’t think he ever felt someone so warm like you. He doesn’t know why he becomes so insecure with you being so close to him.

“I’ll make you some tea or do you want coffee to warm you up?” You’re still holding his hand and you look up at him.

His eyes were so magnetic, it drew you in. The lovely shade of blue you have ever seen. He was so tall next to you and you looked down at his lips. They were chapped and he smelled like cigarettes and the cold air.

“Tea would be alright.” Johnny tells you and you pull him by the hand into the kitchen. The kitchen was small. You signal him to sit down on the dining table that only fits two. It was against the wall near the fridge.

“Can I smoke here?” He asked you as you started to turn on the stove.

“Yea.” You answered him while opening a cabinet above the stove. Johnny watched you take out an ashtray and placed it in front of him with a small smile. You move so effortlessly around the kitchen it almost looks like you were dancing. You put on the kettle after filling it up with water.

“Have you lived here all your life?” He asks you while you grab a few things from the fridge.

“No, I’ve been here for three years.” Johnny listens to you while smoking as you tell him where you are originally from.

“Did you hate it over there so much? That you had to come over here?” Johnny asked and was surprised when you weren’t shocked by his question. Not many people will tell their business to a complete stranger. You were open and you didn't seem to mind his questions.

“No, I like my hometown. I came over here for work.” You told them while beginning to cut up some vegetables.

The depressed mouse that worked in the dinner had given him a bath as well. Part of him didn’t want to take it because of what happened with the depressed mouse. He opened his mouth and she got mad and threw him out.

“A shower then?” You told him after you noticed the unsure look on his face.

“Just to warm you up. You don’t want to get sick.”

“Are you always this nice? What are you hiding? Are you making up for something you lack?” Johnny said and was waiting for a nasty reply, but it never came.

You just shrugged your shoulders at him. “ I just want you to feel comfortable in my home. After all, if you hadn't shouted I would've been dead in the middle of the street by now. I would’ve been robbed or raped.”

“If you don’t feel comfortable here. You can leave.” You tell him.

“Or stay here where it’s warm and take a shower while I finish with dinner.” Johnny looks over his shoulder as you walk to the living room.

You were right, the hot water helped him. He was leaning against the tile wall staring at it as the water washed over him. You were so kind that you turned on the water and left him a towel by the sink. He dragged his duffel bag inside the bathroom. He thinks that this will never happen again. Taking a shower two times a day. He felt like a rich man.

His stomach growls when the smell of your cooking hits him. Finishing with the shower, he dries off and gets dressed. Curiosity gets the best of him and he opens the medicine cabinet above the sink. Toothbrush, toothpaste, razors and creams are lined up on the tiny shelves. He takes the bottle of pain killer and takes one. Putting it back, he turns off the light when he walks out. Dropping his bag by the hallway, he looks at the door at the end. It must be your room.

“Johnny.” You call out for him. He walks into the kitchen and the table is set.

“You look 27 now.” You said and he smiles as he sits down. You bring him a knife and a fork over and you see him dressed with baggy pants and a light gray tee. His damp hair is brushed back and slender shoulders are at ease.

Johnny wants to moan loudly because of how delicious the food is. He looks across from you to see you cutting your chicken. The comfortable silence is back again. He doesn’t really like silence, he gets too much into his head and begins to overthink. He starts to wonder why he doesn’t when he’s with you but he wants to talk to you.

“Do you know the butterfly effect?” Johnny asked and you looked up from your plate.

You nod. “Yeah, crazy stuff.”

“Do you believe in it?” He asks and he’s surprised when you nod.

“Have you heard of the Mandela effect?” Johnny for the first time of his life, shakes his head because he doesn’t know. Johnny knows that he is educated because of all the books he has read. There’s a smile on your face and his stomach tenses up by how pretty you look and he licks his bottom lip when you begin to tell him.

“It’s like a false memory that occurs when many different people incorrectly remember the same thing. Let's say there’s an old movie and an actor says something but other people remember it differently. A word can be spelled this but there are other people who remember the word being spelled completely differently.”

“Are you serious?” You nod at him.

“I have the newspaper here. I’ll show you the article when we are done eating.” You told him excitedly.

“So I was thinking. You probably got into a fight with your girlfriend and she threw you out. Am I right?” You asked him.

Johnny remains quiet for a minute and you refill his cup with more water.

“If I say yes, what would you do?” He asked you curiously.

“Well, I’ll have to get my bag for that. I’m pretty sure if she finds out you are here with me. She’ll fight me. I'll have to be prepared. I have never been in a fight with anyone.”

“Put the Tupperware back in the cabinet, love. No one is looking for me.” Johnny said, making you chuckle as both of you kept eating.

“You have a boyfriend? Husband?” You shake your head.

“So you are lacking something?” You frown at him.

“Why do you think I’m lacking something?” You ask Johnny.

“You’re beautiful and you have no one. Do you have a third nipple or something? Something that scares all the dude.” Johnny hears you laugh and he gets quiet.

“A third nipple?” You repeat him.

“To answer your question no. I don’t have a third nipple. I’m single because I haven’t found the right person yet.” You answered him truthfully.

“What’s the right person for you?” Johnny takes a sip of his water.

“Someone you feel comfortable with after being irritated with everyone. Someone you can come home too after a shitty day and they make it all better.”

“I bet there is a line of men waiting for you.” Johnny noticed the look on your face.

“There is but they are just dogs. They want to get their dick wet and I tell them to hire a hooker.” You tell him.

“Would you hire a hooker?” Johnny asked you and you wonder why he’s asking all these questions. He’s so different from the men you met. He’s asking you all of these random questions. It felt like he was trying to make you feel uncomfortable.

“If I was a millionaire, sure why not.” You answered him, and he looked satisfied.

“Why?” You shrugged your shoulders at his question. “Hookers gotta pay bills too, right.”

Johnny nods, he continues eating. You shake your head slowly as you look at him. Johnny was different and you would’ve never talked to a man like you were talking to Johnny. You didn’t care though, you probably wouldn’t see him tomorrow.

Johnny is reading the newspaper on the couch as you showered. He read the article and he was enthralled by it. He looked at the books you had, his fingers glided across the binds of it. He hears you come out of the bathroom and he tiptoes to the hallway. He sees you wearing a towel around your wet and naked bare body. You’re walking to the bedroom and he goes back to see the books.

He came around a small desk and saw a picture. It was the same boy he saw in the picture on the fridge. The little boy was wearing overalls and had a toothless smile. He was sitting on your lap, and you were looking at the camera with your own smile. Johnny’s chest tightens at the side of the picture.

His mind wanders deep and he imagines what if that was you with his kid. He’s never thought of kids before. Never really wanted them. He doesn’t know why he’s thinking of it but the picture of you holding this kid looks so cordial to him.

“That’s my nephew and godson.” Johnny looks over his shoulder. You’re standing in the living room, barefooted with shorts and a flannel shirt. The towel is over your shoulders and you walk towards him.

“He’s cute.” Johnny said as you walked towards him and pulled out an album from the desk drawer. You give it to him. Johnny takes it and walks to the couch.

He can smell the body wash from your body and he places the album in his lap to cover his semi hard on. You sit next to Johnny on the couch and he opens the album. You pointed out family members here and there as Johnny looked through the pictures. Johnny stops at a picture of you. Without a thought, he brings his hands up and traces the outline of your face.

“It was my last day at home. This was before I came here.” You mumbled and looked over at Johnny. He meets your gaze and for a moment. No words were said, just two people staring at each other. You found him attractive and your senses came to you. You look away to take a look at the clock hanging by the wall. You pushed yourself up from the couch. Johnny stares at you as you walk past him and open the door of the small closet near the bathroom. You walk back to him with blankets and a pillow.

“Here you go.” You said and Johnny places the album on the coffee table.

“I can stay for the night.” He told you in a surprised tone.

“Well of course, that is if you like to stay over tonight.” Johnny nods.

“I wouldn’t be able to sleep knowing you’re out in this cold.” You commented as you fluffed the pillow and handed it out to him.

“The tv remote is over there. Feel free to use the tv or read any books. If you’re still hungry or thirsty, help yourself in the kitchen.”

Johnny graciously grabbed the blanket from the couch you laid out. It’s the softest thing he has ever touched.

“Goodnight.” You tell him and start to walk back to your room.

“Wait!” You turn around at Johnny’s voice.

“It’s a bit early, isn’t it?” He said looking at the clock. You raise a brow at him, 11:00pm is early for him.

“We can watch a film.” Johnny said, pointing his finger at the television.

You got the feeling that he didn’t want to be alone. You knew that feeling all too well sometimes you wanted to be near someone and feel their presence. You thought about what your friends would say if you tell him about tonight obviously they will yell at you for being a complete idiot and inviting a homeless stranger to your home.

“You better not hog the blanket.” You tell him, he smiles as you walk back to the living room and sit on the couch.

Johnny wakes up by the smell of food. He yawns as he pushes himself up from the couch. He feels good, he feels well rested. He remembers watching 10 minutes of the film before shutting his eyes. The last thing he heard was your soft voice saying goodnight.

“Morning.” He looks over at the kitchen to see you frying an egg. Johnny sits up and cracks his shoulders. Pushing himself up, he walks into the kitchen.

“Sit down.” You tell him, setting him a plate on the table. He obeys and starts digging in.

“I’ll have to work soon. You have a place to go?” You asked to sit down to eat your breakfast.

Johnny's slim cheeks are puffed out with all the food he stuffed in his mouth and nods. You don’t believe it because he grabs another toast quickly from the table, shoving it in his mouth. Almost like saying he won't know when will be the last time he gets to eat like this.

Johnny got dressed after breakfast and waited for you to come out of your bedroom. He’s waiting by the door as you grab your lunch from the fridge. You don’t even notice the picture of you holding your nephew missing.

Johnny follows you out of the apartment and out of the building.

“Walk with me to my job?” You asked him and he nodded. Johnny asks what you do and he listens as you tell him.

Johnny has his duffle bag behind him as he crosses the street with you. Stopping by a large building, he looks up at it and whistles at it.

“Have fun wasting away at work.” Johnny's remarks made you roll your eyes.

“Well, a girl gotta eat, Johnny. Have to waste away for a bit.” You tell him and his eyes shine at your response.

“Bye.” You tell him and Johnny doesn’t want to say bye. He wonders if he will ever see you again. He turns around to start walking to nowhere.

“Johnny!” He hears you shouting his name and he looks over.

“Pick me up at 6:00pm. We can have dinner again if you want.” You tell him and Johnny nods. He tells you he’ll be here to pick you up.

He watches as you walk into the building and he turns around with a little pep in his step. He walks to a park and sits on a bench. Opening his duffel bag, he takes out a raggedy book, some of the pages are ripped out of the bind. He keeps it together with a rubber band. He takes it off to read it, he opens the first page and sees the picture of you with your nephew. His eyes stared at your pretty face and a warm feeling filled his chest.

He remembers the first words that came out of your mouth.

Thank you.

[all-chickens-are-trans]

Some choices that Much Ado About Nothing (1993) made that absolutely delight me:

when Don John (Keanu Reeves) gives his villain speech shirtless, in fake leather pants and while he receives a vaguely homoerotic back massage from Conrad

the fact that absolutely everyone loves Beatrice so very much while they all seem to think that Benedick is a bit of a cringefail clown

when Benedick is absolutely unable to sit in that folding chair

that they made the whole thing so pastoral and kinda horny

great costume design. these little flaps that the military uniforms have at the butt? delightful

when they all get naked at the beginning for practically no reason and my sister said "it looks lik they're gonna have an orgy"

[gabessquishytum]

Can I please propose a Bathing Addendum to the Amnesia AU?!

Because 1389 Hob definitely needs a little help re-learning the 21st century protocols with regard to bathing/hygiene. And it's a delicate matter because it's not like Dream cares one bit or wants to make Hob feel bad about his natural grimy state. But Hob DID love all those fun, scented, pampering products, (his bathroom looked like an Influencer's free sample stash exploded all over it), even this version of Hob seems delighted by the comforts of the modern world, and not having fleas is SO great, so staying neat and clean could definitely be an important part of the Care and Management of the Amnesiac Hob.

(Though, the one thing he IS a bit weirded out about is how short his hair is. He keeps running his hands through it nervously & wondering how he/they/who cut it that short without slicing his ears with the rusty shears?! It's ok, though, Dream assures him they don't have to keep it trimmed. He shows Hob how to comb it back into a stubby little bun and fix it with these fucking awesome springy circle things.)

Anyway. The first time Dream gingerly shows him the shower and suggests some form of washing, he's surprised that Hob totally goes with it, easy as anything, & immediately just… strips off and even prompts Dream to join him. And Dream belatedly remembers that this kind of thing was more common where/when Hob was from, and he probably washed in the river with his fellow soldiers all the time.

So Dream. Just. Does it. Follows suit. Stripping off his tee and peeling off those tight jeans, all the while STERNLY ORDERING HIMSELF to NOT MAKE IT SEXUAL. No, no, no. It's just a couple of guys washing together.

(He does not, in this moment, realize that it might be useful to remind Hob of the current conventions surrounding adult nudity. Whole parts of his vast mind have just sort of shorted out.)

Dream struggles to keep his physical body under control so as to conceal his own interest as they step in and Hob delights in the warm, indoor rain. But Dream's body is a manifestation of his own will, and right now his own will is having EXTREME DIFFICULTY in shutting the fuck up.

But he can try. He doesn't want to make Hob uncomfortable.

Hob, however, already seems to be having some trouble. See, as tiny a shred of control as Dream has over his own Endless form, Hob is just human and cannot even hope for that much. And his interest is soon VERY clear. He knows not everyone would be opposed to having some extra fun in this perfectly normal communal bathing scenario — he has, after all, frequently kept some of his fellows warm on those cold, muddy nights on campaign if they were amenable. But he doesn't want to presume and scare the pretty lord away.

So Hob is painfully turned on and starting to hate this indoor rain, which is not at all like a river where you could just sneak into slightly deeper water and hope anyone who wasn't interested just politely chose not to notice. He's so self conscious and just trying not to look too much at the perfect form next to him and to hide his own interest — very poorly — with a soapy loofah.

But Dream, who can clearly see what is happening in the sudden spike of daydreams and also right in front of him in the shower, is so sweet about it. And he takes the loofa and gently washes Hob and soothes him and tells him there's nothing to worry about.

And afterward, they fall into the soft bed, which is definitely way more comfortable than a quick fuck in the mud on campaign, and Hob thinks he might really like this modern bathing strategy after all.

Oh absolutely!!! Here's the original amnesia au where Hob doesn't remember the last 600+ years.

I can't stop thinking about the scene in the 1993 Much Ado About Nothing film where all the dudes immediately get naked and wash in a stream(?) together while inside the house all the ladies are in the renaissance equivalent of a shower all together. The casual intimacy of washing together/washing each other is deadass so beautiful to watch.

So yeah, Hob inviting Dream into the shower with him? Very real, very lovely, and feels like an expression of how much Hob trusts Dream. It's all super weird for Hob, but even though he can't remember shit, he just has this feeling that Dream will be good to him. In fact, he has this strange, warm feeling like Dream means something really important to him. And then there's the plain fact that Dream is gorgeous and even in 1389, Hob had a weakness for pretty men.

Dream knows that he should just keep this all platonic and straightforward, but Hob is just adorable. Confused, a little clumsy, so fucking cute with his teeny tiny man bun. Dream is puddle on the floor as he lets Hob’s daydreams and his own feelings combine. So he gives in. He washes Hob’s back, and dries him of in a big fluffy towel that Hob definitely stole from a hotel, and leads him to rediscover the joys of memory foam.

Hob has lost 99% of his memories relating to sex, so Dream doesn't get to experience Hob at his best, necessarily - but maybe because of that, it's actually more special? Hob is vulnerable, a little silly, and very enthusiastic. He wants to explore and learn new things. He's absolutely fascinated and overjoyed by the concept of lube. No spit or oil needed! He can get fucked and it doesn't hurt (much)! Weirdly it also smells like strawberries!

And Hob is mainly just so excited about Dream himself. His gentle, generous and beautiful stranger! He's so in love. Doesn't matter how many memories he has.

[synonomy]

As a David Thewlis enthusiast, what movies of his would you recommend?

That depends if you’re watching for the plot or just simp fodder tbh

Naked (1993) is number one for David simp fodder since it lives up to its name/you get to see him doing sexy things, but its a tradeoff since his character is fucking insufferable and the film is a weird, unpleasant slog, so any time he isn’t naked or being sexy will be 💀💀💀

Resurrected (1989) is pleasing because it features a babyfaced and very Remus-esque David, but the plot is kinda meh and depressing/upsetting, especially near the end

Vroom (1988) also has some very young and pretty David (with bright orange hair!!!) but the film itself is kinda boring since he’s not the main, so you have to put up with some shitty Clive Owen lovestory

Total Eclipse (1995) is worth a watch because even though David has the most atrocious hairstyle possible you get to see him being topped by a twink Leo DiCaprio 👌 I mean, they have the most toxic relationship you’ve ever seen, but it’s gay so

Gangster No. 1 (2000) features the most Daddy of Davids as a slick suit-wearing London gangster, but the plot is kinda trash and you have to endure Malcom McDowell’s godawful narration throughout the whole thing. Ironically, the narration mostly revolves around him simping for David, which, while relatable, doesn’t make it any less irritating

Veronika Decides to Die (2009) also has a Daddy-style (also very Remus-esque) David as a smart and bespectacled psychiatrist. The plot isn’t absolutely terrible from what I remember, but he’s not in it a great deal, so

If you care more about the film itself, or are looking for a good balance between plot and simp:

Divorcing Jack (1998) is my favourite David flick by far. Not only is it the best he’s ever looked, he has an Irish accent(!!!), his character is adorable and the film is hilarious. There’s also bonus Jason Isaacs (Lucius Malfoy). Highly recommend 🙌

Seven Years in Tibet (1997) is also pretty good. David has an Austrian accent (can’t comment on its quality) and looks cute with a lil Remus moustache. My main takeaway from the plot is that David has superior rizz to Brad Pitt (unsurprising) but I remember being entertained

The Lady (2011) is also one of my faves. It’s based on a true story about a Burmese diplomat, in which David plays the most supportive and wholesome husband ever to Michelle Yeoh (whom I also love) 🥰

I’m Thinking of Ending Things (2020) is great, though again David’s not in it all that much

I also really love Life is Sweet (1991) despite him only being in it for about 5 minutes

Honestly though, most of his really great performances have been in television rather than film.

[xenonmoon]

I accidentally stumbled upon some Spider-man 2099 comics and since I can't watch across the spiderverse in theatres (photosensitivity sucks) and Miguel O'Hara has become a constant presence on my dash/home in almost literally every social I have I decided to give it a go and see who this guy is and why is the internet so obsessed with him all of a sudden I wrote down some notes while I was reading so here we go. Xenon reacts to Spider-man 2099

It's giving me a loooot of cyberpunk and blade runner vibes from here and ngl I dig it

I already notice the suit is a little different but not too much? The spikes in the forearms here are less noticeable at least. And I didn't remember ever seeing the webbing

I love this pose

Oh my god this is so me fr fr

PFFTDHFS I MADE A LOUD SNORT ok I like this guy

He seems like that type of 90s savage-edgy-I-hate-everyone guy, so far considering the context he's kinda funny

I don't know how much they've changed about his backstory in atsv so I'm writing it all down as it's told in the comics

So his father was a scientist working for this Alchemax and the corporation kinda groomed both since they were children to become their top tier geneticists and work for them. They've invested a lot on Miguel and they use it to have a hold on him, since he's the only guy not addicted to the Rapture which is a very nasty and genetically bound (?) drug only Alchemax is allowed to distribute.

The corporations is running genetic experiments to enhance human abilities and all of that using animals as source, the latest project was an attempt to replicate what happened to Spider-Man in ma marketable way

Except they've become pretty savage with it and started doing experiments on humans (starting with criminals) BEFORE it's confirmed to be safe. And the last one miserably failed (or grandiosely succeeded, depending on the point of view - the guy actually came back with super strength and all of that but he was a heavily disfigured mutant who tired to strangle O'Hara and died short after).

So Miguel said fuck this shit I'm out

(cw: drugs from there on)

... Except they poisoned his drink with a dose of Rapture and how he's screwed. "oh no worries Miguel we're not forcing you to stay" my ass.

fucking bastardssssssssss

FUCKING BASTARDSSSS

honestly though "rapture" as a name choice is sooooo 90s. I remember reading Infinity Crusade (1993) a few months ago and there too they made a big deal about something they called "the rapture". And goddess and holiness and penitence and sinners and REPENTTTT and other overly Christian stuff like demons that was littering everything I've read from that time (which is just all the Moon Knight stuff that got out in that period but-)

the satanic panic hit hard huh

So anyway if Miguel doesn't do anything to fight this rapture thing he's royally screwed and forced to keep working on them

So he remembers that for lab tests he was using his own genetic material so he's got a full backup of it pre-rapture and he's planning to use the machines at the lab to overwrite the changes the drug made

sound good to me, quite a solid plan

Except this guy, who Miguel insults regularly on daily basis, decides to take his petty vengeance switching the "clean" O'Hara backup with the one they're experimenting with for the spider project.

Well this is fine

AND ON TOP OF THAT HE'S TRYING TO SHIFT THE BLAME ON HIM

also naked Miguel O'Hara gents, you're welcome

Uh-oh

IT'S MORBING TIME

honestly I know vampires were massively popular in the 90s and it's kinda obvious they wanted to ride that wave and use the aesthetics to appeal to vampire fans and-

works for me

also how do those claws work? It feels a bit weird to see both nails AND claws, sort of like when you realise centaurs have 2 ribcages. Bit more redundant though, would've made more sense if he'd lost his original nails. Oh well.

He's me when I'm at my parents' house and my mother throws me out of my bed on Sunday morning at 8ish because THE EARLY BIRD CATCHES THE WORM DON'T YOU THINK YOU'VE SLEPT ENOUGH and I'm just left there confused af trying to figure out where I am, when I am, what day and year this is and what's exactly happening in my life

MOOD

big eh for the sexualised hologram house assistant, ok it's the 90s and it's a thing of the genre and all of that but I've read too many papers about sociological consequences of female-coded robots or assistants (in short: encourages closely associating the slave/servant role to women and it ends up affecting real women too. it's bad bad) to not be judging this very hard

His first thoughts about them claws was going to the bathroom and picking his nose, so valid of him

honest to god if I had claws I'd be constantly fidgeting with them pressing the fingertip to make them come out like you do with cats.

That's it for part 1, I will probably make a part 2 when I continue reading them

Honestly they suffer a bit from being born in the 90s but I'm enjoying them so far and I like the character. If he hasn't changed too much in the movie then ok I get it now

[religion-is-a-mental-illness]

New Rule: Bring Back Trad Dads | Real Time with Bill Maher

And finally, New Rule: this Father's Day, if you really want to give your father something he'll treasure forever, give him permission to be a dad like dads used to be.

And before you start in with, "But Bill, what do you know about it? You're not a parent." Yeah, I don't give blowjobs either, but I can tell when someone is doing it wrong. How about that? So, no, I don't have kids, but I sit next to yours at restaurants.

I see parents in stores kowtowing to brats like they're congressmen groveling before Trump. I've seen a seven-year-old ram a shopping cart into someone's coccyx and the parent just shrugs and gives a look like, kids… what are you gonna do? Raise them right. That's what you can do.

For as long as I've had a television show, the issue of parents overindulging their children has been a topic of discussion. So, it's not like it's new, but it hasn't gotten better either. We were talking about trophy syndrome in 1993, and then it was helicopter parenting, and then bulldozer parenting. And now we have gentle parenting, or as it used to be known, negotiating with terrorists.

British author Sarah Ockwell Smith, who coined the term, said, "The key here really is thinking, 'Would I like it if someone did this to me?' If the answer is 'no,' then why would you do it to your child?" Because they're a child? Would I like it if someone stripped me naked and plopped me down in a tub of water? No, but with a kid, that's just bath time.

I keep hearing how parenting is so hard these days. Yeah, because you're making it hard. Gentle parenting. It's like a Taco Bell breakfast. The reason it feels wrong is because it is. And it's ruining lives on both sides of the equation. Parents, it's ruining your lives because you've made yourselves a butler to a five-year-old.

And the kids, because the results are in. And all this letting the kids run the show, path of least resistance, child rearing, is harming them. The average high school kid today has the same level of anxiety as the average psychiatric patient in the early 1950s. A recent survey of employers found that about one in five recent college graduates brought their parents with them to a job interview. Our kids are crippled with anxiety because they haven't been properly prepared for a world that doesn't revolve around them.

Almost ten percent of college students claim to have PTSD. From college? The cradle of safetyism? The home of safe spaces and trigger warnings and policing offensive words? You're not supposed to get PTSD in college. You're supposed to get an STD.

The National Institutes of Health says that roughly half of teenagers now have a mental health disorder at some point in their lives. Which tells me one thing, the National Institutes of Health is also part of the problem.

The mental health disorder is on the part of the adults, not the children, the adults, who forgot that to a child, discipline is love, and that kids need structure and authority. Of course, they think they have traumatic stress disorder when they get to college, if before they left the house, they never heard the word "No." Never heard, "You're wrong." Never heard, "Wait, wait."

A lot of life is waiting, yeah. Waiting for your boss to recognize your worth. Waiting for love to bloom. Waiting for your career to take off. Waiting for your partner to be finished in the bathroom. Waiting for your porn to download, for your vape to charge. For the drugs to kick in. For your eyebrows to grow back after you do something stupid on drugs. It's vital you learn as a kid how much of life is going to be waiting.

And boundaries. Jesus, yes, boundaries. Sex dolls set more boundaries than today's parents. This is why the traditional dad, the trad dad, needs to make a comeback. Not all the way back to the 1950s psychopath who never said he loved you and hit you with a belt, no. But just back to the dad who believes that "Because I said so" is a perfectly legitimate answer to any question a child may have. Just back to the dad who would never say anything as stupid as, "My kid is my hero." Or, "Where do you want to eat dinner?" Or, "One more story and then we really have to start thinking about going to bed, okay?"

Trad dads don't negotiate. They say, "You will apologize to your mother, don't make me turn this car around, some things just happen because life is unfair, clean your room, be quiet, the adults are talking, and it's not all about you." Mostly, a trad dad knows he's your parent, not your friend. "Hey, buddy" isn't in his vocabulary. He isn't your emotional support animal. He's simply a guy who understands the job to raise an adult who can survive in the wild.

There's a long-running TV show in Japan called Old Enough, where parents send children as young as two on errands by themselves. Sometimes the kids cry, and sometimes they come home with the wrong stuff, but that's okay. That's how you learn. Meanwhile, in this country, parents strap leashes to their kids like they're escorting a serial killer on Con Air. And children are constantly tracked like they're the last surviving albino tiger instead of just another white kid named Liam.

But what happens, what always happens when uber-liberal bullshit goes too far, is it produces a far more damaging counter-reaction. In the absence of traditional fathers, teenage boys these days are turning to meathead misogynist influencers like Andrew Tate. Ever heard of him? Well, your kid has. He's popular with teenage boys because when we don't give them a masculine male role model they look up to, they go out and find one. And being teenage boys, of course, it's going to be the worst possible one.

Andrew Tate is a man who answers the question, "What if Axe Body Spray could talk?" He's so anti-woman, I don't think he even has a mother. I think he was born when lightning struck a jug of protein powder. And now he's your teenage son's favorite thinker. Did I mention he's a big Trump fan?

So, this Father's Day, let's give dear old dad the gift of being dear old dad. And also, shut up. He's trying to watch the game.

[elwolfen]

Alfred Molinathon Day 10

Nervous Energy (1993)

Ira Moss

His Role: Supportive and undergoing inconceivable pain of having to watch his dear Tom slowly go through the trials and tribulations of AIDs. Someone you'd hope to have by your side in sickness and in health. Patient while understandably tired. The unprompted trip to Glasgow without him going or being properly discussed must have stung quite a bit, but he let Tom go, even knowing that it wouldn't go nicely. It's what Tom wanted.

His flashbacks to the past were... interesting, to say the least. There are two types: first meeting and them being much closer (if you catch me). Seeing him meet Tom, who was a biker at that point, filled me with much glee from hoping there would be a scene where Tom would take Ira for a ride, and he'd hold close to him. They do ride, but Ira doesn't cling to him sadly. And the other scenes? No full-on sex but very sexual undertones. You see plenty of naked Tom (past and present), plenty of ass and full frontal nudity. I'm sure plenty who haven't watched it but are a A.M. fans are curious about Ira's percentage of nudity (I see you)... the most you see is him laying in bed with his dear Tom and see all but his pecker. Which I'm thankful for, for me, seeing genitalia makes me uncomfortable for reasons not entirely known to me (my aro?/ace ass). So, seeing Tom's was a jumpscare.

Anyways a scene where, after going to the bar with his friends, sits and sings to himself while seeing a vision of Tom crying out in pain and begging for Ira made me tear up a bit. At the time of these reviews, I'm dealing with my cat's sickness and at times, I've thought about the idea if that if he could talk, would he be constantly begging for help and yowling about the pain? Obviously, he still could, but the thought of not being able to help with one's serious and fatal situation is heart-wrenching. I know a person going through AIDs and a cat going through Lymphoma are different, but this is how I relate. Ira has Tom, and I have my Sandy.

Seeing him go through and making a list of music for Tom's funeral was jarring. We forget what loved ones do for a dying person, getting all the arrangements, booking the funeral itself, and even the little details like the music. It just it me. Seeing him quietly work on that while Tom is in the hospital, not knowing if he's still fighting or trying to let it take him. All he knows is that Tom doesn't want him there.

He also abandons his radio hosting duties to be at the hospital with Tom. It's brought up a few times about the fact that Ira was going to interview someone that Tom was a fan of, and after all that happens, he stays with Tom. Someone else interviews him. A sacrifice, I'm sure he's willing to make time and time again.

When Ira finally gets the news that Tom is okay, it'll take weeks for him to come home, but he is still surviving. All Ira can think is that "he's coming home?" He breaks down crying at the thought of him being home with him. I'll admit I wanted to see him cry, just to see he acting chops, but it was so damn touching. Everyone at that hospital was so supportive.

In the end, it's just the two of them, in a hospital bed. Talking. Throughout the movie, we learn that Tom doesn't like kissing on the lips. But here, he wants to kiss Ira. I'm sure Ira would've loved that, but he knows his Tom. Instead, he says he wants to hold him, which is a relief to Tom. Holding each other close after a tumultuous time in Glasgow must have felt like heaven on earth. That's the last we see of them. The funeral is postponed, but we know the date will have to be made eventually. For now... all that's matters is each other.

~~~

The Rest of the Film: Tom was really going through the ringer of AIDs and everyone terrified that he's developed dementia (which I didn't know was possible). Going on shopping sprees, buying the wrong thing, and lashing out when told such and just knowing it's his expertise, brutal. Watching his sweaty spiral didn't give me much hope for the end of this movie. Yet I was surprised. He doesn't die at the end, but it is heavily implied that it will happen eventually. But it was a pleasant surprise.

Also, why does everyone keep letting him drive!? He drove into a hedge!

~~~

His family seemed kind of supportive at first. His mother really was the highlight out of all of them, she genuinely cares about her son and I'm glad. His father was hesitant about all of it, but he has been researching about his son's aliment. And Ian, his brother, was calm at first, throwing some shade until the point he snaps. This man really thinks his brother is just being a "theatrical wee shit"...

When Ira inevitably arrives and hears out Ian, Tom's brother, on what happened. While I understand his and his wife's discomfort; Tom messed up her kitchen twice, he went back to cook again while still naked (her very young daughters giggling) and he drove a rental car into their hedge. It was still crossing a line when he attacked him (one hit and brief crying but still), threatened death, and kicked him out in the morning. His brother is very clearly sick and disoriented and yet still does so. I do appreciate that he showed some care, but he needed more patience. What made Ian and his wife really snap? The fact Tom and Ira fucked in the shower? Really? That's what starts half his family bashing him for being born!? Wow.

When Ian turns up later to the hospital that Tom ends up after everything to visit. He still thinks he's being over the top. But Ira has had enough! He rightfully snaps at him, but still in a reigned in manner. He's tired of seeing everyone abandon this poor, suffering, and confused man who's been their for his friends, and his father and brother abandoned him ten years ago when he broke his leg. Why? Because they saw him with many gay men in the same room, I believe wearing leather.

I can't understand why Tom would want to forgive them. But it's not my place to do so.

~~~

Tom's seemingly fairweathered friends. Again, this is a difficult situation, I understand. Yet they still have the gull to dine and eventually dash as soon as things get too difficult and embarrassing. Ira bringing up the fact that his friends are way more reliable, a bit of a diss even before the abandonment, but he's not wrong.

Thankfully, after being rejected yet again, this time by a leather Dom, Tom begs Ira to call his ex-teacher at four a.m., and she takes them in for the night. She seems really nice and singing was lovely but little too much for my sensitive ears. A thing, though, all this moving around could have been avoided if Tom allowed Ira to book a hotel room. But for some reason, he didn't want to stay at one. Anyways, we get a conversation between Ira and Rosetta, which is really devastating. Ira hasn't been tested for AIDs. He thinks he may have it, but not knowing if that's the case or not makes him feel stronger. Strong enough for him and Tom. He doesn't want Tom to be concerned with it, he wants to deal with it on his own. Just like what's Tom has been doing throughout the film. They both don't want to be weaker, they desperately want to be strong enough. But it's ok to be overtaken by the overbearing pain and devastation of a disease. It's not your fault.

As soon as they get back home to London, who shows up? All of their London friends! As soon as they get off the train, they are swarmed by them and head straight to the hospital. It was heartwarming to see the true family they have there. Nothing but helping and patient.

Heads up! A Romani slur is dropped near the beginning of the film. Very brief yet there. Also, mentions of Antisemitism!