#although yeah they are that too

[comradekatara]

Ok we should talk more about sokka and aang because these two dumbasses are adorable together! Underrated relationship

The gag with Katara and blind Toph in season 3 is still the funniest scene in the series lol

yeah their friendship very cute. i like how when they're left to their own devices their respective adhd tendencies combine, that feels very true to my relationships with my friends who also have adhd lol. it's also just really adorable how through aang's sheer lovability, sokka learns to loosen up a little and appreciate life (somewhat, sometimes) in a more relaxed, content way. aang is a really good and highly valuable influence on everyone around him, especially as he counteracts the logic of war and its necessity for violence, which is an ideology sokka not only heavily subscribes to, but to which he attaches his very personhood. aang reminds sokka that he is still a child (he reminds katara of this too, but it happens in the literal pilot, whereas sokka's journey to literally enjoying himself ever is far more gradual and grueling). aang reminds sokka that he is human.

that said, i do think that people tend to be reductive when talking about the value of their relationship. not to single you out specifically, but i do kind of take umbrage with the notion (perhaps unintentional) that all their dynamic is good for is being adorable and funny. calling them "dumbasses" because they can be silly and goofy sometimes, or scatterbrained and absent-minded. i genuinely think that aang and sokka constitute one of the most interesting foils in the entire show. normally when we talk about character foils, we talk about characters who are positioned in opposition to each other, but aang and sokka are fascinating because they're allies (and friends) who nonetheless approach the same problem with the same intentions and the same goals but from completely different angles.

in many ways, sokka is aang's most distinct opposite. but first, to address their similarities: they're both victims of a genocidal imperialist project that has burdened them with a responsibility to their people that they are too young and barely equipped to handle; they are both expected to shoulder this burden easily by those around them due to their nature as "gifted" child prodigies with distinctly unique skillset and an unprecedented ability to absorb and apply new information that they learn at a genuinely abnormal rate (remember that aang is not just the avatar, but an incredibly prodigious avatar at that; he mastered all four elements within less than a year by the age of twelve, whereas most avatars take at least another four years to master their elements); they are both the "leaders" of their small guerrilla militia of child soldiers, and they take turns giving each other guidance and trusting and following the other's lead; they both consider katara the central figure in their lives and love her with an almost obsessive devotion; they both repress their grief and other unpalatable emotions through humor and constant distraction, and sometimes even depersonalize entirely when they feel that their goal is more important than retaining their humanity (sokka does this more frequently, but when aang does it, it's more blatant); and of course, they both harbor massive guilt complexes for the devastating tragedies (largely beyond their control) that have shaped their lives, and are constantly replaying those moments of "failure" as that of acute shame to motivate themselves as they strive to rectify and "atone" for their past errors.

so, as you can see, reducing their friendship to "adorable dumbasses" is already not very interesting. to me, the best aang and sokka scenes aren't the ones wherein they are playing and goofing around together. those scenes are sweet and charming, of course, but the best aang and sokka scenes are the ones wherein sokka is positioned as the logical consequence of aang's grief. wherein present-day sokka becomes the worst case scenario for a hypothetical future aang. in many ways, their friendship is incredibly bittersweet, because it is also punctuated by moments wherein sokka threatens aang's entire value system and quote-unquote "innocence" through attempting to mold him into a Man Of War the way he does those hapless toddlers in his village. for all that sokka is remarkably open-minded and receptive to new ideas, he cannot see past the limits of the world he was born into and the mechanisms and assumptions of violence he was forced to internalize and embody. aang is, of course, totally unique in his ability to not only envision a world beyond the war (i would argue that katara has the ability to do this as well), but also to have actually experienced it. and so it is truly a testament to aang's resilience that he is almost entirely impervious to sokka's ruthless, militaristic logic, even as sokka constantly attempts to enforce it.

i have a much longer post in my drafts about how aang and sokka are positioned in "the serpent's pass" (one of their best episodes in terms of their dynamic, also just a highly underrated episode in general), so i'm not gonna get too much into it here, but katara's relationship to aang as paralleled with suki's relationship to sokka is really fascinating in this episode for the ways in which it also positions katara's grief over witnessing aang's attempt to detach himself from his grief to focus on his goals and aang slipping into "sokkahood," and the absolutely devastating implications of what that must mean for katara. i think there's a strong case, in general, for the reading of katara attempting to replace her lost childhood (with sokka) through aang as he represents a vehicle for her overly idealized nostalgia (much like how zuko projects onto aang and views him as a vehicle to return to that site of his overly idealized childhood), and thus, quite literally, replacing sokka with aang. to katara, aang possesses what sokka has since lost, or perhaps something he never got the chance to have in the first place. and that isn't to say that katara views aang as a brother, but rather that katara longs for companionship in any form, and what is aang if not the ideal companion? so aang's grief and rage scares her not only because it pains her to see someone she loves so deeply in so much pain, but also because it reflects her own pain back at her, as someone who has lost so much, including family members (also including kanna and hakoda) who are, ostensibly (at least physically), still alive.

one of the most fascinating scenes between sokka and aang in the entire show is when sokka straight up attacks aang for burning katara in "the deserter." katara is very clearly affected by this beyond simply the physical pain; being burned by the weapon that killed her mother is explicitly triggering for her, and she retreats into herself and sobs like a child (she is a child, but you know what i mean. an even younger child). and sokka in turn is triggered by katara being triggered, because his entire existence revolves around his oath to protect her, and she was just hurt by the one person to whom she stakes all her hope and pride and joy and affection above all. aang obviously understands the gravity of this accident immediately; it of course wasn't intentional, but he nonetheless takes full accountability and apologizes sincerely. but sokka only calms down somewhat once he knows for certain that katara is okay. and instead of going to find katara as she sobs, he spends all his focus on yelling at aang, throwing him to the ground, more furious than we have ever seen him. and in a way, it's clear that he's also furious at himself, for having let his guard down around and trusted aang, and for his failure to perform his primary duty, protecting his sister. the fulcrum of aang and sokka's relationship is, necessarily, katara. she is the force that brings them together, and the person who is most important to either of them, but she also person who connects them in her mind, and so our perceptions of them as the audience are primarily informed by her perception of them as the narrator.

moreover, sokka's advocacy for killing zuko (in "the siege of the north") and ozai (in "sozin's comet") constitute two more fascinating scenes with aang, for the way in which sokka does not even find the act of killing something to flinch at, let alone an absolute betrayal of core principles and values the way aang does. killing is simply not something sokka feels guilty about, despite the fact that he seems to carry guilt over simply existing a lot of the time. and that juxtaposition, between aang and sokka playing together, of sokka learning how to have fun and entertain his little friend, versus sokka chastising aang for refusing to commit murder, is what makes their relationship so compelling. when people reduce their dynamic to its most comedic and innocent mode, they are reducing their roles as they embody two opposing relationships to violence, and how that reflects their ideological positions as someone who has subscribed to imperialist logic insofar as his values have been shaped by war, as opposed to someone who knows through his own experiences to refute that logic by any means necessary. when we talk about aang helping sokka to regain his humanity, it is crucial to understand specifically how sokka lost his humanity in the first place, but also why aang specifically is so crucial in counterbalancing his logic in a way no one else alive actually can.

ultimately, if sokka represents the voluntary auto-dehumanization of the colonized subject, then aang represents the potential of preservation and even reclamation of humanity and the imaginative potential of a world[view] beyond those colonial limits. their ideological conflict is not simply one of what it means to be human within a colonized paradigm, but what it means to exist at all.

[carmyboobear]

Omg do you have any more to say about sub carmy??? Literally obsessed with the idea😵‍💫

I’m sorry. I had too much to say.

Rating: Explicit (2.3k)

Tags: sub carmy, overstimulation, edging, use of toys (cock ring), praise kink, dom/sub dynamics, cum play, riding, oral (both), face sitting

It’s unreal, the way Carmy unravels so easily at your touch. With the rights words, he’ll come on the spot. It’s hot, but frustrating for you, not because you’re mad at him for coming, but because you’ve never quite had your fill playing with him. Luckily, the two of you figure out a solution:

A cock ring.

“How it feel? Not too tight, is it?” After lubing Carmy’s cock and the toy up, you’ve slipped the silicone ring at the base of his shaft, fitted right above his balls. He’s starting to harden in your slippery hands.

“No, it’s good. Just right,” Carmy sighs. He’s leaned back against a pile of cushions on your bed, clothes shucked to the side. Your eyes follow the rise and fall of his chest before looking back at his cock. Your hands itch to squeeze at his chest, run your fingers through the little curls there, but not right now. You can’t.

“I’ve set a timer for 20 minutes.” You’re walking him through it again as you start corkscrewing your fist up and down his length. He nods through little breathy moans, his curls falling into his face. “If you need to take the ring off before then, what do you say?”

“I’ll say red,” Carmy answers obediently. “Green is good, yellow is slow down.”

“Good boy,” you praise, pleased. Just for that, you kiss the tip of his hardened cock, and his breath hitches. “You’re so good, letting me play with you like this. I’m so lucky.”

“Mm, I think, I think I’m the lucky one,” he mumbles with an amused smile.

“Maybe we both are.”

“Yeah, maybe—ah—“ His words dissolves into a soft moan when he feels the heat of your mouth enclosing around the head of his cock.

It’s such a turn on to see him to like this, to be the one making him like this. As you suck and lick up and down the underside of his length, running your tongue along the bulging veins, Carmy sings for you, breathy and sweet. It makes your stomach broil, your pussy pulsing under your panties.

“It’s only been a couple minutes,” you tease, popping off his cock. You lick at your lips to break the strings of saliva that connect you to him.

“S-Seriously?” Carmy leans his flushed face into one of the pillows with a deep sigh. “I’m not gonna last…”

“Oh, but you will.” As a reminder, your fingers trace the ring snug around his cock. It’s doing its job perfectly. His erection is stiff and pumped with arousal as ever, just what it looks like when he’s about to come, but he can’t. You won’t let him, not until the 20 minutes are up. “Give me a color, Carmy.”

“G-Green,” he stammers, eyes glued onto you. You’re peeling off your sticky underwear and moving to straddle his hips.

“Mm, good.” You’re warming lube in your hands before rubbing it on your pussy and his cock. You’re gonna be riding him for a while, and time is of the essence. “You ready for me?”

“Yes, please,” he whispers, polite and perfect. Who are you to deny that?

“Oh, Carmy baby, you’re so hard for me…” Your folds bracket his bulbous, shiny tip, rubbing all over it. He makes a weak noise as you sink down on him, your hole slowly stretching around him. The lube makes it easier, quicker.

“Fuck,” Carmy whines, chest raising up and down steadily. You’re fully seated on his cock, and liquid heat fills every space inside you. You’re panting, adjusting to his thickness, squeezing and wetting his cock.

“Does it feel good inside me?” You ask, voice sweet and quiet. You run your thumb down his cute little happy trail.

“Feels so good,” Carmy pants, “so hot.”

“I can feel you twitching in my pussy, Carmy.” He makes a small, high pitched noise at that, somewhere in the back of his throat. “You wanna come already?”

“Yeah,” he whines, hips jutting forward into you. It hits a soft spot that makes you stagger, pause for a second to catch your breath.

“Well, too bad,” you whisper, and you start moving.

You start slow, almost unbearably slow. You drag yourself up his cock until just the head is snug inside you. You let yourself squeeze on it for a couple seconds, just to make him moan, before sliding back down the entirety of his length. It’s gradual, it’s steady, and it’s bringing Carmy to tears.

“I wanna come,” he whines, desperate. He’s strewn messily across the sheets. You think his cock’s gotten even harder inside of you.

“You’re not even halfway yet,” you scold him, and he makes a needy noise of protest. “Do you want to stop already?” You know you’re being mean, but you can’t help it. Not when he gets like this.

“N-No. I don’t.”

“Then be a good boy and take it.” You keep riding him at that slow, torturous pace, but you bring one of your hands up his chest. “You what to say when you want to stop. Give me a color.”

“…Green,” he whispers, little beads of tears in the corners of his eyes, and you smile.

Of course. You keep riding him, your pussy slowly and softly sucking up and down his throbbing cock, and he takes it, keeps taking it all.

“You’re so pretty like this, you know.” You start rolling around one his nipples under the pad of your thumb, and his whole body tightens up. “So pretty, so lovely.”

And he really is. God, he really is. You ogle openly at the ways the muscles in his arm go rigid when he fists the sheets, white-knuckles and tight. His tattoos move with the shift in his muscles. The hand that’s playing with his nipples moves to trace the faded triangle of ink on his chest.

“I wanna come on your pretty cock, baby,” you whisper to him, like it’s a confession. He whines at your words, bucking up into you, and you stifle a moan. “Can you handle it?”

“Mm, I, I don’t, I dunno,” he pants helplessly. There’s beads of sweat forming on his forehead. “H-How much longer?”

“You’re almost halfway now,” you inform him with a pleased, almost devious tone to it, and his whimper is so desperate and pathetic it makes you pulse. You’ve never seen him so worked up like this, never felt him so hard inside you like this before.

“Only halfway?” He repeats weakly, eyes momentarily squeezing shut. “Fuck—fuck—okay.” He breathes in deeply in a poor attempt to steady himself, but it doesn’t seem to do much.

“Such a good boy,” you moan, “so good for me.” One of your hands is rubbing at your clit now, pushing you closer and closer to your orgasm. It seems Carmy can feel it, too, with the way his louder and louder moans are timed with the tightening of your pussy. He’s rutting into you to no avail, chasing an orgasm he can’t have. The push of his cock into your hole makes an audible slick noise, over and over.

You lean down to seal your mouth against his bitten, moaning lips, and Carmy moans like an angel into your mouth. It’s messy, hasty, liquid and hot with your tongues gliding against each others. He tastes so good on your tongue. Spit’s smearing all over your mouth, down your chin, but you don’t care at all. Neither does he.

“Fuck, oh, Carmy, I’m gonna come,” you realize, the winding screw in your belly twisting tighter and tighter with each thrust. You pull back to look at him, and you’re squeezing down even tighter at the sight. His eyes are half-lidded and teary, wet and overwhelmed, and his kissed lips are reddened and glossy with your spit. Or his. It doesn’t matter. An even pink flush colors his face. He looks well-fucked, and just looking at him like this is what makes you come.

“God—shhhit—“ Carmy’s mouth hangs open in an o as you orgasm tightly around his cock. He’s gasping for dear life, chest heaving with the effort of it. “Oh my god—“

“So fucking p-perfect—so pretty—“ you’re seated and rutting on his cock through your orgasm that rips through you, blinding you from everything except for Carmy. “J-Just seeing like you like this, it, it makes me come—god, you sound so pretty—“

He moans raggedly from your praise. His thrusts have become much more forceful, much needier. He grinds in you for the rest of your orgasm, reveling in every contraction your pussy has to give.

You’re still seated on his cock when you’re finished coming. Carmy’s at his limit, pleading endlessly for you to let him come. He’s clearly so hard and wound up he can hardly think anymore.

“Please let me come, fuck, please,” Carmy begs. There’s faint tear tracks on his cheeks, a testament to how far gone he is. “I tried, I, I just can’t anymore—I need to come—“

“Shh, baby, I got you,” you soothe him, sloppily pressing kisses to his whining lips. You slide slowly off of him and lower your hands to take off the cock ring. Before you do, you soak in the sight of him rigid and covered in your cream. He’s so hard it looks a little painful. “You did so good for me… I’ll even let you choose where you wanna come. You wanna come on my face? In my mouth?”

“I wanna come on your pussy,” Carmy pleads, immediately honest in his desperate haze, and it sends a dull jolt through you. Fuck.

“So dirty, Carm,” you murmur, breathless with how turned on that made you. You position yourself between him, angling him towards your pussy. “Of course. Anything you want. I can’t wait to see you come. I’m gonna take the ring off now, okay? Come all over my pussy like a good boy.”

With careful fingers, you pull the silicone ring off of his throbbing cock. You barely get it off before white cum shoots out of his cock.

Carmy practically sobs as he comes. You’ve never heard him cry like this before. You’re gentle as you stroke him through his searing orgasm, thinking he must be impossibly sensitive. His entire body shakes as he comes, as the pleasure rips through him.

His cock spurts over and over, covering your pussy in ropes of cum. You push your hips forward and use one hand to spread your tender folds. When his warm come hits your pussy, globs gelling over your clit, you moan from the sensation. He’s coming so much…

His cock releases a couple more weak squirts to dribble down your hand before softening. Carmy’s strewn limply across the bed, taking in deep, steady breaths. His expression is dazed, the look of someone that got fucked hard.

You shuffle towards him, knees still on either side of him when you lean down to peck his face. He makes a little noise of acknowledgement.

“Must’ve felt good, hm?” You smile as his blissful expression flashes with embarrassment. “Never heard you sound like that…”

“Good is an understatement,” Carmy laughs, voice a little hoarse. “I’ve never…felt anything like that. Holy fuck. That was just…”

“Yeah? It looked like it felt really good.” Cum drips down your pussy and off onto his lower stomach, and that makes the two of you look down.

“Let me see.” His eyes are stuck to your pussy, covered in his come. “Closer, please.”

With him laying down still, you straddle further up his torso, legs parted around his waist. You watch his face as you snake a hand down to your pussy, covered in his cum. Your fingers smear his fluid over your folds, bringing them up to your clit, rubbing it slowly… Your hand’s all sticky with both of your orgasms. And through it all, Carmy’s eyes track your hand, entranced.

“You like what you see?” You tease, and the joking way you say it makes the both of you laugh.

“Very much so.” Carmy reaches out and gently swipes his thumb over your cum-smeared clit, and you stiffen. “Fuck…you’re so wet…“

“Mm, yeah,” you say breathily. His thumb’s rubbing your wet clit back and forth. “Hhah—Carmy—“

“Let me clean you up?” His other hands runs up your thigh, squeezes at your ass. “You don’t have to, but I, I really want you to sit on my face.” His thumb presses down harder, and you whine.

“You’re, um, not too worn out? Ah—“ You feel two long fingers pump inside of you, once, twice before sliding out. You gasp.

“I mean, kinda, but…” Carmy brings his glistening fingers into his mouth, sucking on them. His eyes shut briefly as he revels in the taste of you. His fingers pop out completely clean. Fuck. “I wanna see how you taste with my cum.”

“Fuck,” you mutter under your breath. Your arousal is swirling thickly again inside of you, something fierce and devastating. “Yes, god, okay. Please.”

That’s how you end up coming again, riding his face and smearing your cum and his all over his nose, cheeks, and mouth. His tongue is so warm and soft against your pussy, licking over every fold and crevice. You grind your needy clit against the surface of his tongue, stuck out just for you.

When you finally stop grinding your pussy against his face and pull back, you’re greeted with an even better sight than before. He has this pleased, dazed smile on his flushed, messy face, like he doesn’t even care that his skin is covered in fluids. He probably doesn’t care at all—knowing him, he’s reveling in the feeling.

“You’re my good boy, Carm,” you praise him, chest full of affection at the sight of him, and he hums back, just as affectionate.

[zivazivc]

energy and life

[carnivalcarriondiscarded]

so i've had a lil fic idea floating in my head for a bit. it's fun to think about!

[thegroundhogdidit]

i ship zukaang but i don't think they had anything during the show (except maybe aang having a crush on him that would be cute) i think they spent a lot of time apart after the war and when zuko saw aang again he was like a foot taller and incredibly powerful and zuko almost had a heart attack on the spot

[ghostlyarchaeologist]

Eliot in glasses compendium.

(Jake)

(Alex)

[gayofthefae]

"It's like Carpenter's 'The Thing'. The original is a classic! No question about it."

But the remake? Sweeter. Bolder. Better."

"You're insane."

"So you prefer the original Thing?" "What? No."

But "That's insane. That's blasphemous! Putting fruit on pizza?"

"Did you try it?"

"No, I didn't try it; no, I obviously didn't try it."

"Try before you deny!" "Okay! Okay!"

"No, you're right. It's good."

[wikitpowers]

kitty and merthur parallels bc i'm sad pt.1 (beware of spoilers!)

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[margarethelstone-2]

so, @buggachat is the absolute queen of facial expressions and part 135 of BEAU is just one of many examples of that.

please enjoy my rendition of yet another heartbreaking panel of hers with some extra tears added by me because we're all crying now

[nollypolly]

currently thinking about names in tlt. names are very much a subject that is constantly touched on in the universe- names typically follow which house one belongs to. the most explicit of this is the Tridentati, but that extends to pretty much everyone we meet in book 1. when gideon fully adopts the role of harrowhark's caviler at the end, it's repeated for the second time that nav is a niner name.

and then we find out john changed his lyctor's names post loved-one-slaying. their pre-resurrection names are forgotten, revered as holy even within the private og lyctors. he takes their names, a symbol of where they're from and the earth they failed, and strips them to the bone. he tacks on their cavalier's name on the end as an afterthought, a tribute to the graveyard he turned his friends into. even then, the cavaliers names are lost. he replaces them with what he thinks represents them, despite there being very little chance he was close enough to them to come up with something more than an incredibly shallow understanding of who they are. pyrrha becomes Duty. christabel becomes Joy. we don't know cytherea's saint name, but considering how even john wasnt a fan of loveday, it would make sense why she wouldn't want to use an alias for the most important person in her life. even less so one created by the man who not only lead her to her death, but never even liked her. hell, john doesn't even bother using most of the cavalier's names censored in ntn.

and then we're brought to gideon's first name. she is (unwittingly by the ninth house, in their defense) named after g1. after all, wake's ghost's last words come from right after he pushes her out of the airlock. we know that gideon dies in htn and pyrrha takes over the meatsuit. we know from ianthe's blowup in ntn that john is in active grief. so, now imagine, you just lost every last person you loved, and this sad little girl gets brought to you and she's apparently your long lost totally dead daughter. cool, fine, whatever- you're god, so really death is nothing but some annoying hoops you have to jump through to get what you want. he turns her corpse into a construct, tethers her soul to it, and gives her a bedroom with those glow-in-the-dark ceiling stars and all. luckily there are a lot of newly vacant rooms, haha! and then, as he did with everyone his holy hands have touched, john renames her.

kiriona is pronounced closer to gideon than siri-ona in te reo māori. in typical john fashion, he strips her of her name representing where she is from, blessing her with a new one made in his image. and, once again, he turns her into a tribute for what he lost. g1deon is dead. john honors him by naming his daughter after his best friend, in a dead language, both of which john had a hand in murdering.

she can't be called gideon bc it's a memory of how John failed the person who was most loyal to him. she has to be called something similar as tribute. kiriona isnt his daughter, isn't a person, but instead is a vessel for all of his pain and regret. exactly like the ninth house, kiriona has been transformed into a tomb for her father's grief, and her renaming only cements that.

[just-some-friendly-fun]

Me personally, I think Bi-Han would be a fairly good pillow, especially for people who like sleeping with pillows that have a cool side to them, just a thought.

[gh0stz404]

"our grandpa made a respectful gay joke? i didn't know he knew how to do that!" -me when my grandpa makes a respectful gay joke

and the joke, for those of you who might be curious: "Someone told me my jacket looked gay, and so i told them "it just came out of the closet!""

[manchesterau]

i cant believe this is the only thing harry has addressed in his 12 years of being a celebrity 

[anguishmacgyver]

[sysig]

Hiya :) I've been getting into DSMP animatics, and I love seeing the different interpretations of the character designs even though I only have a vague sense of the lore so far. It's all got cool vibes!! Can I request a drawing of Ranboo or Wilbur, or maybe even both? I'm not sure if they actually ever interact in the story or not, but I'd say interpret the prompt however you want and have fun??

Day 19 - Stuck inside

[trashcanwithsprinkles]

not fic related but i made my in-game teams in piles of sleeping people for practice

modern clothes because i’m not a masochist i was too lazy to make their original clothes