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mycartoonmonster · 15 days

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With the context of the Book of Bill and the characterisation of Bill, I ended up finding that all the members of the Zodiac have a thing or two in common with Bill Cipher.

Six fingered hand-Stanford Pines

-Both have a genetic mutation which they got ostracized for but made them interested in the worlds beyond.

- Both are egocentric and smart.

-Both have a thirst for revenge to prove the people around them they were wrong about them.

-Both didn't mean to endanger their dimension (Ford wanted knowledge and Bill wanted to show them the stars)

-Animals aren't safe around them (Ford set a bird on fire by mistaking it as a Phoenix and Bill ripped out a deer's teeth in his debut and in the storyboards of Weirdmageddon P1 he uses a deer to forcibly kiss Ford's statue as if they were his Barbie and Ken)

-Both have a weird sense of humor

-Both are considered criminals in the multiverse (Theft in Ford's case and Manslaughther, Murder alongside other stuff like mass property destruction in Bill's case)

-Both project onto others they see as similar to themselves (Bill with Ford-and on a minor scale Pacifica-and Ford with Dipper)

-Both ended up getting tricked by a conman (Ford by Bill and Bill by Stanley)

-Both are authors! (The Journals and the Book Of Bill, which are essentially diaries that talked about what their lives were, a bit about themselves and the creatures they found through their life)

Crescent symbol/Fish-Stanley Pines

-Both are scammers

-Both share mannerisms, one of them being referring to Ford as Sixer(which led to people theorizing Stan was Bill's reincarnation)

-Bad relationship with their parents but seem closer with their mom (Bill's parents tried to make him blind to the 3rd dimension but it seems Bill genuinely loved his mama Scalene while Fildbrick didn't value Stan as much as Ford and Caryn was the only one worried about Stanley and was one of the 2 persons that assisted his fake funeral)

-Both were seen as a bad kid growing up (Bill by the people on his dimension due to his mutation and the habilities this granted him while Stan was seen as lesser than Ford due to the latter's gigantic IQ and his rebellious nature)

-Both made one mistake that heavily affected the course of their lives and can never return home because of it (Stan ruining Ford´s project and Bill setting his home ablaze)

-Both didn't mean to push Ford away from them nor put their families in any danger initially(Bill wanted Ford to continue with the portal and got sad after their fallout and Stan did what he did in a moment where he wasnt thinking rationally and it cost him 30 years of loneliness and guilt)

-Both went to jail on different occassions (Stan on Colombia and Bill after going on a rampage in the bar while drunk after the fallout with Ford and the Theraprism if you wanna add it)

-Both tend show only 1 eye to people as well as a cane (Bill only has 1-although he can shapeshift and have multiples as seen in his demon form- and he uses the cane mostly in Dreamscappers, a bit in Sock Opera and in the intro for Weirdmageddon while Stan uses a patch and an 8 ball cane for tourists during his mystery man persona)

-Both used their art to influence people (Stan with the Mystery Shack's attractions and Bill using animation and figurines which failed, unlike Stan's works, unless you count the Lil' Stanley comic)

-Both have used a red demon costume once (Bill in the book and Stan in a picture in Gideon Rises)

-Both wanted to set the journals on fire (with Bill actually doing it in Weirdmageddon Part 1)

-They find Dipper's disstress/fear and annoyance hilarious (Stan teasing him vs Bill terrorizing him)

Glasses-Fiddleford McGucket

-Both end up going insane after a traumatic event (The destruction of his home dimension in Bill's case and McGucket taking a peek into Bill eating his own exoskeleton after crossing the portal)

-The times they helped/aided people it ended bad for them (In McGucket's case, Dipper with his new voice and the Gideon Bot that ended up getting destroyed in the scuffle with Dipper and in Bill's case; Dipper became Bill's puppet and Gideon didn't get the Shack's signature hence he had to use dynamite as a plan B and Weirdmaggedon only lasted 4-5 days for the Henchmaniacs while in McGuckets case's Shacktron didn't survive against Bill as they didn't consider protecting the arms and legs the same way that the Shack was protected)

-Both played a part in the creation of secret societies (Fiddleford by creating The Societyvof the Blind Eye and Bill by the Ciphertologists and inderectly creating the Anti-Bill Cipher society by terrorizing 4 persons)

-Underneath all that insanity and very deep in that broken mind, there is one very smart broken guy.

-Both lost their families (At least Fiddleford could reconciliate with some of it but Bill doesn´t have the same chance anymore)

Bag of ice-Wendy Courdory

-Both are rebellious and dislike authority figures.

-They like to do what they want with no regard for rules

-Both abused their power on more than one occasion (Wendy by stealing snacks and throwing water balloons at the elderly when working at the pool and Bill throughout his deals and in Weirdmageddon)

-They've had guts to face powerfull creatures (Bill the Time Baby and Wendy stuff like the ShapeShifter, the Unicorns or the Eye Bats in Weirdmageddon)

-Both lost a mom when they were young.

Questioning Mark-Soos Ramírez

-Both are smarter than what they look like upon first sight.

-Both lack a dad (Bill's died while Soos's left him)

-They have a funny side to them (Bill more leaning to sadism though)

-Both had their eyes damaged by Mabel (Soos by getting attacked with glitter in Stan Is Not What He Seems and Bill by getting sprayed with graffiti paint in Weirdmageddon Part 3)

Stiched heart-Robbie Valentino

-Both had their relationships ruined by their own arrogance, negligence and dishonesty (Bill being an abusive partner while Robbie was immature).

-They did not take the fallout with their partner well (at least Robbie would never dare to do anything similar to what Bill did)

-They tried to pursue their partner after the break up but to no avail (Bill with threaths and later on with offers of power and Robbie by using music as seen in Gideon Rises and both actually using messanges-Bill wasting Ford's Post-it notes and Robbie sad emails and texts to Wendy)

-Both are good with music (Bill can play the piano and xylophone as seen in his apology video and Robbie can play the guitar and both can sing)

-Both insulted Soos or referred to him in condescending ways (Robbie called him Big Dude and Bill adressed him as "the fat one")

-Both had beef with a 12 year old and wanted to harm them (Robbie wanted to fist fight a child aka Dipper and Bill planned to commit suicide in Dipper's body, turn the mystery twins into corpses, disassamble their molecules and almost kills Mabel in the series finale)

'Both got turned to stone at one point in Weirdmageddon (Robbie when it started and Bill at the end of it)

One eyed Pentagram-Gideon Gleeful

-Having too much power that they acquired at a young age which heavily affected them and began their rise to villainy

-Both have a hatred towards Stanley Pines for meddling with their plans to obtain absolute power and ultimatetly ruining their plans which ended with them in prison.

-Both burnt a picture of the object of their affections; destroying the section with the rest of their family and leaving their faces untouched.

-Both planned to use Mabel and Dipper to get one of the original mystery twins to give them what they wanted

-Both left the Pines Twin they were interested on imprisoned during Weirdmageddon.

-Both deep down craved adoration and attention.

-Both lead a gang of criminals but dont treat them with a much respect as the one Pines Twin they are pining on while hating the other twins for thinking they turned them away from them when in reality it was their actions that did.

-Both got punched in the face by a Pines Twin in a season Finale inside someone´s head (Gideon Bot's and Stanley's)

-Both seem to care about their appearance (Gideon worrying about his hair the most and Bill about his bowtie, given the scream he lets out when Dipper blasts him and him readjusting it a couple of times during Weirdmageddon)

-Both ended up in prison after acquiring a position of absolute power where they do art therapy

-Both are snappy dressers and use their charm to trick people

Llama-Pacifica Northwest

-Both had messy childhoods that turned them into who they are now.

-Both are pretty good liars and can trick people very easily (Bill with his deals and Pacifica in the Lost Legends comic)

-Both look down on people they see as inferior to them(Bill with humans and Pacifica with the working class, hillbillies and the Pines before the events of The mystery of the Northwest mansion and Weirdmageddon)

-Both see themselves as monsters that cause havoc no matter where they go or what they do (Pacifica in dreams and Bill due to what he did in his home)

-Both were forced by their parents to act in a certain way (Bill´s at least loved him and were good intentioned)

-Both are fighters (Pacifica by defying her parents wishes, facing against the ghost and the face stealer in Lost Legends and refusing Bill's deal in her dream and Bill could stand a fight with Shacktron which he ended up defeating and in his book its implied he can fight easily against demons or ghosts)

-Both have wore a crown (Pacifica in her debut episode and Bill in his portrait in the Penthouse suite of the Fearamid)

Shooting Star-Mabel Pines

-Both are agents of Chaos (Mabel being Chaotic Good/Neutral and Bill Chaotic Evil).

-Both enjoy partying and to have fun.

-Both have a wild imagination and a sense of style.

-Both like karaoke and have had a karaoke night with one of the original mystery twins

-Both have eaten stuff normal people shouldn't eat/gross things(Bill his exoskeleton and illegal punch and Mabel getting wasted with Smile Dip, a leaf, huge amounts of sugar that would end with her sick, Mabel juice and she once got hospitalized by eating sniff and scratch stickers)

-Both like makeovers (as seen in a part of the book of Bill where he talks about hiding the blood of his past)

-Both think highly of themselves (Bill's bottomless ego vs Mabel being secure about her talents, qualities and appearance)

-Both have social skills that made others attracted to them, mostly loners or freaks (Bill with his Henchmaniacs for their shared love of chaos and Ford with his smarts and cosmical knowledge and Mabel with Candy and Greta by being weirdos and not being as popular as Pacifica and her posse)

-Both adress Ford as "Fordsy"

-Both have rolled in the grass in Gravity Falls(Bill while possesing Ford during puppet hour and Mabel in Tourist Trapped)

-Both put their wants over other people's and/or their needs (Like in Sock Opera but even if Mabel is sometimes selfish at least apologizes and learns from her mistakes while Bill doesn't care who he hurts and would never apologize)

-Both use white out to exclude certain stuff they dont like from reading material to "fix it" or crayons/markers to cross them (Mabel with the dialog in the Comix Up story in Lost Legends or certain things such as her summer romances and in the Mabel´s guide to color with the picture and Bill with a section where part of The Great Gatsby is shown on his book where he mentions assigned reading or stuff like his exes and his former friend The Oracle/Seven eyes)

-Both became gods of destruction, first time by accident and the second with full intention(Mabel by accident with the rift and ending with MabelLand and Bill with the accidental destruction of his home and with Weirdmageddon)

-You could argue they're awfull when it comes to romance (Mabel's attempts always end in failure and Bill fumbled Ford so so hard)

Pine Tree-Dipper Mason Pines

-Both are good at decoding codes and solving mysteries and have good academic skills.

-Both didn't have many friends growing up and were picked on as kids (Bill for his mutation and Dipper for his birthmark)

-The times they wanted to prove themselves to others ended badly for them (Dipper caused a zombie apocalypse and Bill destroyed his dimension by accident)

-The names they use aren't their real names (Bill confirmed in an AMA years ago that Bill Cipher is just a name he picked so humans could converse with him without going bonkers upon first contact and Dipper's name is actually Mason but everyone refers to him as Dipper due to his birthmark)

-Has cloned himself (Bill's are a natural hability for him while Dipper made copies of himself via paper-rest in piece Tyrone)

-Both were adorable as babies.

-Both got obsessed with someone to the point of messing with their personal lifes (Dipper with Wendy during her relationship with Robbie and Bill with Ford and his relationship with McGucket)

-They changed hats at different points in their life; Dipper in Tourist Trapped changes from his green hat with a five point star to the classic blue pine tree while Bill sported a multicolor hat as a kid before changing into a tophat (if we take the theory that Bill's hat was originally his father's then both Dipper's and Bill's were owned by a family member before being passed on to them, Dipper's belonging to Stan)

I know this is probably just a coincidence (save the stuff with Ford as some were meant to highlight the bond these two had and establish parallels between the two, making them doomed soulmates and adding another layer of sadness over the toxic yaoi) but a fun one still.

Thanks for reading!

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honeytonedhottie · 6 months

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the art of conversation (from a professional yapper)⋆.ೃ࿔*:･🍉

just wanted to preface this by saying that NOT everyone is extremely sociable and thats totally okay. this post is to help improve ur conversational skills and charisma ✨

WHY LEARNING TO BE SOCIAL IS IMPORTANT ;

social skills are literally the FOUNDATION of effective communication. its important bcuz it allows u to build meaningful relationships, express urself, collaborate with others etc.

when ur learn how to be an effective communicator u can connect more deeply with the people around u. being more social can also provide u with opportunities, and in general make ur life SO much easier. not to mention u have a lot more fun.

SUPERIORITY/INFERIORITY COMPLEX ;

an inferiority complex is the feeling of inadequacy, an insecurity that ur not on the same level as someone else. a superiority complex is the opposite, u can come off as smug or condescending. both are bad in their own right.

the way that u can combat this is by adopting the mindset that you are neither below or above anyone else, and no one else is above or below you.

doing so can kind of even the playing field of conversation in ur mind and make sure that ur not feeling some kind of way before going into a conversation bcuz when u let ur superiority/inferiority complex go by un-fixed it can sabotage communication and not give ppl the change to get to know u.

UNLEARN SHAME ;

first u gotta start off with thinking about ways that shame has influenced ur thoughts or actions. an example that im sure a lot of us could relate to is the whole cringe concept.

to help unlearn shame i recommend journalling, therapy, and mindfulness so that then u can let urself ENJOY things again, without having the looming fear of the judgement of others.

also no genuinely happy person is going to take time out of their day to shame u, only a loser would do that. and if ur the one shaming others for liking something bcuz of ur own insecurity, get that fixed and get a life.

PREPPING FOR CONVERSATION ;

when approaching someone or starting conversation with someone for the first time, a rly good way to start it is with a compliment. dont start it by saying hi cuz i think thats so awkward 😭

compliment them for something, their response can also tell u a lot about them also bcuz some ppl will take the compliment well and some ppl will serve u a dirty look and that alone can tell u if u rly wanna be conversing with that person.

LEARN TO LAUGH ;

since we've already talked about why learning to not feel embarrassed about every little thing is important, here's what to do when something like that comes up. literally laugh.

for example the other day someone whom i've never spoken to before came up to me and started talking to me so familiarly, like with their arm around me and everything and i just went with it 💀 until he noticed that he had mistaked me for someone else, but its okay cuz now i have a new friend. LAUGH ABOUT IT.

dont take everything so seriously, being able to enjoy and take a joke is what makes conversation so much fun. note, do NOT mistake taking a joke as taking disrespect bcuz u should not take that, there is a distinct difference.

the biggest advice i can give as a yapper is to be more lighthearted and not take everything seriously. bcuz i feel like when we take everything so seriously we become rigid and thats not hot, be a breath of fresh air instead ✨

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sayhoneysiren · 3 days

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Which 48th Law of Power, should you apply to your situation for success?

{Collab with @lavendergoddesstarot}

Pile 1 is on the left side. Pile 2 is on the right side.

Welcome Sirens! This reading is for entertainment purposes only based on the downloads I receive. Do not attack me if the message doesn’t resonate. Keep in mind this is a collective reading, not a individual one. With that being said, enjoy!

Honey $iren🍒

>Join for weekly Tarot Readings here<

⸻⊱༺  🩸 ༻⊰⸻

Pile I

(1st part of your reading here)

When it come to success, you may have the habit of oversharing your ideas with others. Spirit is saying, learn to keep your goals private. You have ideas that are absolutely GOLDEN, but unfortunately, there are bitter and jealous people around you, who want to sink your boat. Your success is a threat to them and when you yap to them about all your ideas, you give them your blueprint to destroy you. The Wheel of Fortune came out for you last, which shows me that when you learn to reserve your ideas or share only fractions of information, luck will be on your side and the wheels will turn in your favor.

~ LAW 24 - PLAY THE PERFECT COURTIER ~

(The numbers 24, 2, 4, or 6. may be significant to you. It could be your birth date number, current age or a significant number to you).

Quote from the book 48 Laws of Power, "The perfect courtier thrives in a world where everything revolves around power and political dexterity. He has mastered the art of indirection; he flatters, yields to superiors, and asserts power over others in the most oblique and graceful manner. Learn to apply the law of courtier-ship and there will be no limit to how far you can rise in the court." - Robert Greene

There's an old saying coming to mind, "Never let anyone see you with your head to the ground." We all have weaknesses and our weaknesses should always be kept to ourselves, until we overcome them. The message for you is to Master you Emotions. Handle your messy business privately. Don’t rant to people about your problems, even if they’re friends. Show a professional, strong face to the world, even when you feel worried. Stay motivated on the end goal, even when you feel defeated.

You may also have difficulties with wanting to prove yourself as worthy or intelligent to others (which causes you to debate, argue, overshare or overextend yourself). Learn to hold back. There's no need to cast your pearls to swine.

ADVICE

Master your emotions. Don't allow insults and threats to pierce you.

Find creative outlets to release your energy into. (If you’re a writer, write to release your thoughts and feelings or to creative stories.)

Learn social protocol, discreetness and etiquette with others.

Trust no one.

Let your actions and results speak louder than the need to prove people wrong or right.

⸻⊱༺  🩸 ༻⊰⸻

Pile II

(1st part of your reading here).

There was something said to you, that made you feel insecure about your self image or your abilities to succeed. You are hanging on to this, and because of this you are not allowing yourself to move forwards and become your greatest. For many of you, it was a person close to you, that you deeply trusted, who hurt you with their words or actions. Here’s what to do. Cry about it, journal about it, meditate on it, THEN LET IT GO. (And if it's better, let them go too).

Your value is never determined by anyone else, it is determined by you. To become your successful self, own all that you are, in body, spirit, emotion and mentality. You are not a mistake. Don’t be fooled by the people who cannot see your value yet.

You are a very grounded and practical person, who holds immense wisdom within'. Your intuitive powers are off the charts!

These toxic people around you, don't see your power or how your ideas can come into fruition but don't let that stop you from carrying on. You have the ability to manifest like a God or Goddess on Earth and you will be a wealthy person very soon.

LAW 28 - ENTER ACTION WITH BOLDNESS

(The numbers 28, 0, 1, 2, 8, or 10. may be significant to you. It could be your birth date number, current age or a significant number to you).

Quote from the book 48 Laws of Power, "If you are unsure of a course of action, do not attempt it. Your doubts and hesitations will infect your execution. Timidity is dangerous. Better to enter with boldness. Any mistakes you commit through audacity are easily corrected with more audacity. Everyone admirers the bold; no one honors the timid. - Robert Greene

Don't be the victim, be the successor. Push through all negativity until you are successful. Learn to stand up for yourself with boldness and walk your path audaciously. When you speak, speak with firmness and a assured tone. When you have ideas, create and pursue them with confidence. The cards are telling you, that your ideas are brilliant and that they are going to be greatly received by the world (fame is highly likely for you), so don’t feel insecure about yourself. Just trust the process.

ADVICE

Learn not to take criticism personally.

Work on your self value and self esteem.

Work with the Lion totem or the Goddess SEKHMET to be more courageous.

Cut toxic people out of your life.

Create boundaries and stand up for yourself.

Do Solar Plexus practices. Sunbathe. Get an Aura Reading.

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writingmyimagination · 2 months

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Never let go ~

Massimo x reader (may get a bit steamy.)

Tw: choking, cussing, smut

“One year…. One year have I wasted on a man who will never change.” I write in my journal as I look up and out the window of the plane as Massimo huffs annoyed leaning against his chair mad I’ve refused to sit near him. You see unlike Laura I choose to be with him thinking he’d learn after she ran off with his gardener. At first it was bliss and we would shop, have dinners, and travel.

But as fate unfolded with the months he could never let a part of her go fully. Times I’ve spread myself thin to please this God like man, the change in clothes from my usual classy elegance to a more sexy look for him, the unusual taste in art that I know he had commissioned for her. If it were up to me I’d burn them all in our courtyard one by one and light a cigarette with the flames. I hear him shift angrily either at the fact his wife refuses to look at him or even breathe in his direction or at the sexual tension between him and our flight attendant knowing I would turn the whole plane around if he even dares to act on it.

“If he leaves again I’ll disappear I swear it to this book and to myself, I deserve the world at my feet. Not this sour bitter treatment as if I was Laura. I have done nothing to cater for him and yet I find my cup empty while his is full, full of life, fun, and excitement. While I am expected to wait for him, submis—“ I feel a large hand wrap around my throat, his hot breath tickling my ear as his hand gives a warning squeeze. “Mi amore, are you fucking kidding me? Disappear?” He lets out a stiff chuckle as I feel his other hand swiftly grab my journal and throw it against the wall of the plane where he was once sat. “As if you could stay hidden long enough for that to happen, I’d search under every single rock and cave to find you.” I tighten my lips together as I look off to the side seeing the flight attendant staring at us, want and desire pooling desperately in her eyes. “(Y,N.) are you really going to be this difficult, acting as if I was some random man you could throw a fit with and I’d just let you be.” His free hand playing with the hem of your white mini dress going up to the middle of your chest where we can see the golden v accentuating your cleavage. “Massimo, please.” I croak out, half in annoyance and in desire because I know what lies in the next few moments to come. He lets my neck go and I take a deep breath, he moves to the front where I can see him towering over me and does something shocking.

Massimo has knelt in front of me with soft gentle hands he moves them up my calves to my knees and spreads them apart. “W-what are you—“ he gives me a look. “For once shut the fuck up.” He reaches under my dress and rips my lace underwear off me. My hands go to rest on his bicep as he pulls my hips closer to the edge of the seat, his lips tickle my inner thighs with kisses leading up to a long teasing swipe of my glistening folds. A deep primal groan emerges from his chest as he hungrily laps as the pooling wetness between my legs. Soft moans leave me as I shiver under the unfamiliar sensation of his tongue making its presence known. Massimo wasn’t one for giving but always receiving. This is a whole different feeling entirely.

My eyes roll back as he continues determined to make me gush sweet juices all over his face. His sweet prize for having to put up with my mood swings as he calls them. He knows Laura is gone, but she gave him a feeling he couldn’t describe but you, you were his weakness. The one thing that could bring him to his knees and possibly lose his mind, hence why you were his wife he lost you once over his own mistakes but that wasn’t happening again.

The pooling desire swirling in the deep of your tummy was nearing the edge, asking to be released as your legs tighten against his strong hands. “M-Massimo keep going please, like that.” He smiles against your folds as he continues, his tongue swirls in circles around your clit and he moves a hand further up, once at his destination he inserts his two middle fingers slowly, angling them upward just to brush along the wall. He can feel you tighten around his fingers and at this point he’s ready to hoist you up and impale you with his long, girthy shaft. But he knows you need this, you need to feel cared for before he can have his own way with you. He feels your legs tremble as you struggle to breathe and he takes everything you give him, lapping each drop as if he hadn’t drink anything all day not wanting to waste a single drop, the overstimulation of his tongue pressing your bundle of nerves until he finally stops and look up. “Beautiful.” He whispers before placing a soft kiss on your inner thigh and getting up, he sits next to you and pulls you close to his side. “Stop acting like how you have been this whole trip, (Y,N).” He kisses the top of your head as you regain consciousness from cloud nine. “Massimo everything I wrote is true it’s how I feel…” I look up at him. “You aren’t fully here.” “Bullshit. Bella I am here I’m right fucking here, I got on my knees for you do you understand how much you mean to me? Outside of this.” He motions around with his hand. “I’d kill for you. I should’ve never left you for her. She was the devil in disguise, a fucking demon.” He grabs your jaw, “but you.. you are everything pure, sweet, and perfect. Not a day goes by that I don’t regret what I did to you. I may not be the perfect man or husband but for you I am willing to try.” You both lean in and share a sweet kiss before hearing a ding. “Please buckle your seatbelt the captain with start our descend soon.”

#365 days imagine #massimo torricelli x reader #Massimo x reader

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librarycards · 3 months

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pls ignore this is its too weird or too much labor, but i was wondering if you maybe had any tips or resources for ppl who have creative desires like writing but brain fog and fatigue tends to get in the way?

i do! it may not work for you bc people have very random/unexpected ways of dealing with this, but it's *very* common and there is hope :) [i think a lot of this is applicable across form, but i'm using "writing" here because it's what i'm familiar with]

one way is to be strategic about timing: this includes thinking about when you're least foggy/have the most energy, and/or the most "downtime" where there isn't anything in particular you need to do. many people wake up early so that they have alone time before their responsibilities. some people stay up late to write. i tend to do my daily writing (which I elucidate on below) in the evenings, around 7-10pm. whatever works, works!

relatedly: scheduling/routine is, for me, critical. i think it is for a lot of creative ppl. I write every day, in multiple ways: i keep a journal - i've done this since i was like 12, so it's as ingrained as brushing my teeth and i don't really think about it - and also work on some aspect of my current longest project [so, for the last 4 years, it's been the aforementioned second novel; for the 4ish years before that, it was Failure to Comply. i write other stuff during the daytime, of course, because writing is also my job(s). but if you're looking to establish a consistent creative practice, you don't need to be aiming for a certain hour or word count.

Instead: Aim for consistency and progress. Not perfection, not a "muse," not magic. There is no shame in making something that doesn't seem good, or that you end up deleting. in this particular instance, "perfect is the enemy of good" is 10000% true, and i think especially applicable to people who already experience external + internalized ableist ideologies on a daily basis. your art, regardless of what it is, should be a space where you get to make mistakes, change your mind, and learn new things. it should be something you can come to when you're tired, unsure, confused, scared, etc, even if it means just keysmashing and then closing your notes app for the day.

for me, having a daily practice, regardless of anything, means embracing the days where i write only one word and then despair, as well as the days i write pages. when i feel most depressed, in a very clinicized sense, i try to move from "everything i make now is going to be shitty :(" to "everything i make now is going to be shitty :)", not because i'm happy about it, but because....that's simply part of creating. everything is a bodily function. if you're not feeling good, maybe your poop will look weird. so too with writing. but you still do it. it can be mechanical. but it'll happen, and by doing it consistently, you give yourself the *opportunity* to locate insight hitherto buried, to have an idea creep up on your tiredself.

i guess in sum I'd say that the healthiest thing i ever did for my writing is something tantamount to body neutrality, which has also been an immensely positive addition to my set of frameworks for physical embodimindment. creative neutrality, i guess. this doesn't mean i don't tie my ego and personhood to work/productivity/quality. i mean, i totally do, and it sucks, but there we are. but it also means that i place that in a corner that does not touch my desire to chip away at something big, regularly. i make time every day to summon the urgency of whatever i'm working on, not because i'm proud of it at that moment, but because i want to give it another opportunity to give me something cool.

tl:dr: give yourself the gift of consistency and time, and don't be scared of making stuff that isn't good, or gets deleted, or doesn't make sense. write from wherever you want, physically, mentally, spiritually. give it the opportunity & even the expectation to happen and then work from there.

#routine is EVERYTHING !! it's hard to start but inertia works in good ways too.#i believe in you.#ask #anonymous #writing

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bobcatmoran · 2 months

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So with Tim Walz, governor of my home state, as the VP nominee (and news stories about him/Minnesota coming out of the woodwork) here's some stuff that will probably be helpful to know over the next 3 months:

The Minnesota Democratic party is, due to a 1944 party merger with the local Farmer-Labor party, the Democratic-Farmer-Labor party, or DFL for short. Local media refers to them as such.

Speaking of local media, we have two major local newspapers: the Star Tribune out of Minneapolis (Strib for short) and the somewhat smaller Pioneer Press out of St. Paul.

Minneapolis and St. Paul are the Twin Cities. They're next to each other, but woe betide you if you mistake one for the other. Minneapolis is the larger of the two, with the more vibrant nightlife and history as a flour milling hub, while St. Paul is the state capital, home to lots of liberal arts colleges and a significant Asian-American population, mostly the Karen ethnic group from Myanmar and Hmong.

Other reputable local news sources include MinnPost (online indie news site), the Minnesota Reformer (unashamedly leftist and pro-union), and Sahan Journal (focused on stories affecting the local immigrant and minority communities). We also have Minnesota Public Radio, or MPR for short, one of the largest NPR affiliates in the nation with a pretty solid local news arm. Bring Me the News is rarely a source of breaking news, but what they do report on is solid.

Alpha News is not a reputable local news source. They're far right wing and have a *cough* casual relation with reporting on actual events.

About 1% of Minnesota's population are Somali/Somali-Americans, concentrated in Minneapolis, especially the Cedar-Riverside neighborhood. They're a major target of local racism and Islamophobia, by conservative assholes. The nonsense rumor over Minnesota's new flag being based on the Somali flag (because…uh…blue? and star?) stems from that particular local brand of xenophobia.

It's "Hot Dish." "Casserole" is the name of the type of cooking utensil you make Hot Dish in.

#current events #us politics #minnesota

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kooktrash · 1 year

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the art of obsession | kim taehyung [teaser]

NOW POSTED

summary: in a world of painters and poets, there were two college students looking for the right sort of inspiration. through devotion in your craft, you find yourself drawn to kim taehyung—a grad student painter who’s everything you’ve ever looked for in a character. his walk, his form of speech, his art, it all captivated you to the point where you wanted to recreate him in words and you begin to realize how similar the two of you really are. you share a sort of obsession in your work that seems like only each other could understand and he invites you into his world of oil paints and charcoals in hopes of drawing you on paper.

✎ genre/au: dark academia. college au. painter!taehyung x writer!y/n [afab. she/her]

✎ TBD

“There is no beauty… without some strangeness in the proportion.” — Edgar Allan Poe

warnings: smut. slight obsession. prestigious college. dark characters. tae literally takes oc to a graveyard. MORE WARNINGS TO COME

“I told you, it might be scary,” Taehyung said as he walked parallel to the graveyard toward a tree that stood tall along the sloping hill, “But this is the best view of twilight, if you want, I could walk you back to campus.”

“No, it’s fine,” you cleared your throat deciding to walk ahead of him so you could be the one sitting upright against the tree. Taehyung dropped his backpack a few feet away from you and began getting his things out.

You didn’t question him, only observed the way he carried on like you weren’t even there. It’s not like you minded, you didn’t have any real agenda to get him to spend time with you and frankly, you felt a bit relieved to see that he wasn’t trying to figure out what you wanted. It was unspoken the way the two of you seemed to think similarly and brought out your tools.

Taehyung didn’t say anything when he flipped his sketchbook open and found a charcoal he could use as he began to sketch without much thought into it. He even made himself comfortable by lying back, using the angle of the hill to help him not lay horizontally and he bent a knee up as a sort of flat surface he could rest his book on. There was a small breeze that carried through his linen shirt and brown trousers but he wasn’t much worried about himself.

He was more worried about you, who had asked to spend time with him but had no real plan to do so. He’ll admit, when he said no it was just on reflex from all the other times he’s out right rejected others before but he only thought it over because he’s been curious of you two. When you told him you would join him for a moment he debated saying no again because this was his favorite place to be to watch the sunset but it wasn’t all that normal. He even tried to warn you and offer to take you back when you saw the graveyard but you didn’t even seem to care when you sat down. Now that he’s looking at you up close, he can see the way your brows furrowed in concentration as you scribbled in your journal, already feeling inspiration.

It’s now that Taehyung is realizing why he’s been so curious. He finds you beautiful, he’s sure he’s mentioned that before, but he finds you beautiful in an unsettling way. Just looking at you seemed to send him into a wave of emotion like you’re exactly what he’s wished to create on canvas. Before he even knew what he was doing, his hands were working away to make another sketch, eyes on you as he worked.

“What are you writing in that little journal of yours?” He found himself asking after some time. The sketch was rough and yet it was so refined that there was no mistaking what it could be. It was a monochromatic sketch of you with your back against the tree, legs straight before you and your hair covering your face with the howl of the wind. Your hands looked delicate when you wrote and you looked so lost in your own work that managed to capture that same essence in his drawing.

Your eyes met his and he didn’t back down from the stare even as it intensified with each passing second until finally you said, “I’ll tell you if you show me what you’ve been doing in that little sketchbook of yours.”

For some reason a small smile came to his face as he laid on his side using his elbow for support and reached over to hand you the sketchbook. You took it with a sense of excitement that quickly turned into disbelief as you looked at it. The back of your index finger hovered over it but never touched for fear that you would smudge it and when you finally handed it back to him, wordlessly, you gave him your journal.

At this exchange, Taehyung moved to sit up, not bothering to brush off any loose grass blades off his linen shirt and read over a short passage.

A certain coolness in his gaze that made him appear cruel.

A charming aura that seemed timeless, not modern but ancient like he was created from every classic literature known to man.

His gaze, his smile, his voice—all deep like red velvet.

The list went on, each short sentence followed by another in what one could assume was meant to describe him. He didn’t say anything either as he handed it back to you the same way you had done with his sketchbook. Neither of you were looking for critique or praise, more so acknowledgement of what the other had been doing and once you had it, it was enough.

Taehyung stared forward as the line of bright Orange finally vanished from the sky and a cool blue clouded it. Nothing was said as you both stood up with your things and even less was brought up on your walk back to campus.

It wasn’t until you stood at the bus stop that Taehyung decided to ask, “Are you busy tomorrow?”

“No.”

He pulled out a piece of paper from the pocket in his trousers followed by a pen as he scribbled something down before handing it to you, “Meet me here

at 8:00pm.”

You didn’t have to say anything for Taehyung to know you would show and he left without much of a goodbye.

::.

here’s just a little snippet of what I’ve been working on bc I miss fall and need it to hurry up

permanent taglist: @notmyfaultbutours @rerefundslocals @fandems @sugaluvmyg @guvgguk @kimyishin @libra04 @kooromiwrld @classycreationcupcake-blog @alwaysdreamingnotsleeping @cherrymonlightt @nikkiordonez12 @asking4-sanity @thvlover @saweetspoiled @uwu2rawr @shaybts-blog @babycandy111 @tearyjjeon @joons-uparupa @jeonninja @yellowcupid08 @02010802faves @knudsenheggedel @skzthinker @unnatae @aurorthi @beautywine @95ene @taekookstata @lilliankoo @shescharlie @annenakamura @lesoleile @burnahtsw @babybella337 @kooloveys @ku-ku @chaelvrx @minnie-mouser22 @Imeneghd @whoa-jo @evajeonsworld @marvelbun @sunnikthv @kochycooky @heyhowyoudoin3 @acielelyseen @giselleswifeee @jeonjk25 @ilikeitlikethatt @bangmechanpls @lvr2seok @badbyeyoongi @jaerisdiction @watermelonjuice15 @artmsmaid @xyahrinx @angeleen777 @jooniesxbby

#kim taehyung #taehyung #taehyung fanfic #taehyung imagine #taehyung au #Taehyung smut #bts taehyung #taehyung fiction #taehyung fluff #taehyung oneshot #taehyung drabble

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fixfoxnox · 10 months

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Pervert Blues (Soap/Roach)

Art by the wonderful @miilkybnn , find it here

Description: Roach has an issue. John "Soap" MacTavish is a fucking pervert and won't leave him alone. He definitely doesn't like it. And he definitely is not happy when Soap finally manages to get him alone in a communal bathroom on base.

Warnings: Smut, Non-Con/Dub-Con, Semi-public sex, perv Soap, slight victim blaming but Roach wants it

Notes: Based on that one audition from Soap and written for my dearest @miilkybnn

Roach and Soap had issues since the very moment that Roach had joined the 141. It wasn’t anything that Roach had done, he’d made a pretty good impression on the team when he’d joined. Apparently, too good of an impression on Soap, considering what had been building between the two for months upon months.

It had started off innocent enough, so innocent that Roach hadn’t thought anything of it. The comments from Soap were just playful little things about how good he looked in the uniform. How he must have had all the people on his old squad drooling after him. “Accidental” touches that would brush against his ass. The friendly hand on the small of his back, guiding him into a conference room or the cafeteria. The way he would stand just a bit too close while they were talking. Or he’d get right up behind Roach to get something off of a taller shelf.

It had all seemed so innocent. Then, Roach started noticing more. He started to get a tad uncomfortable. It wasn’t so innocent anymore. Soap’s comments went from playful to borderline catcalling. He’d whistle when Roach went by, his eyes caught on the curve of his ass. Roach would always start moving a bit faster, his face going a bright red. It didn’t feel like a friendly joke, it felt real.

Then there was the flirting. The way that Soap would lean in all too close to him and whisper something about helping Roach “rearrange his furniture” or having Roach “test out the new bed in his room.” All while his fingers would trace along Roach’s arm temptingly. Roach would always end up scurrying out of the room, desperate to be able to breathe away from Soap’s touch.

His hands grew bolder. He still hid behind excuses, grabbing at Roach’s hips to move him out of his way. Touching Roach’s ass as he gave him a boost over a wall on a mission, claiming it was an accident, just where his hand landed. Roach would never point out that the grope to his ass surely wasn’t an accident. Roach never said anything, and maybe that was his mistake. Maybe if he had said something he could have nipped it in the bud before it had grown to what it was now.

Now? Now Soap had lost all shame. He’d moved past hiding his desire and his perverted actions from Roach and turned to just hiding it from the rest of the team. Now Roach found himself being groped any time Soap got a chance. God forbid if he made the mistake of bending over in front of Soap. He’d be likely to find himself sprawled on the floor from the force in which Soap would slap his ass.

Roach would always turn to him with a glare, but Soap would just shrug with that smug asshole smirk on his face and say that if Roach didn’t want it, he shouldn’t have flaunted himself like that. Roach would gape at him, unable to do anything other than stare as he watched Soap strut out of the room.

Now the comments were more graphic. Quick descriptions of what Soap wanted to do to him in the uniform he was wearing, all whispered in his ear at random times. Quick words of how well Soap knew that he would be able to take his cock, how much he would love taking his cock. Roach would never be able to respond, always finding his mouth going dry, his face going red, and an embarrassing wetness pooling between his thighs and threatening to soak his boxers.

Then there was the journal. That stupid fucking journal that Soap was always carrying around with him. Around the other members of the 141, Soap was like a guard dog over it, ready to snap at any of them who even tried to sneak a peak. Roach had even seen him take a swipe at Gaz for simply walking behind him while he’d been working in the little journal.

It wasn’t like that for Roach. No, no, it was like Soap wanted Roach to see his journal, to see every filthy thing that he’d drawn and written inside of it. The first time that Roach had seen it, Soap had gotten up to get a drink and left the journal wide open next to him on the couch. Roach had only glanced at it for a moment before doing a quick double take, his mouth falling open as he observed the various drawings laid out on the two open pages of the journal.

Sketch upon sketch of him in various lewd positions. It was clearly meant to be him and, just in case he couldn’t recognize himself from his appearance, Soap had added a helpful little arrow that labeled one of the drawings of him with his name.

There was one of him on his knees, the very tip of a thick cock laid on his tongue as he drooled around it. Another was him on his back, his own fingers buried deep in his cunt as his back arched off the bed, juices dripping from between his thighs. Then there was the other page, each of the drawings there featuring him with a man splitting him open on his cock. It didn’t take Roach long to figure out who the man with the mohawk was meant to represent.

When Soap had returned to the couch and spotted Roach looking at the journal with a burning red face, he only grinned. He took the journal back into his hands and leaned back against the arm of the couch he was on, a smirk tugging at his lips as he began sketching on the pages. He would look up at Roach occasionally like he was referencing back to his face to make sure he got everything right.

Roach had made his escape only moments after that. Scurrying back to his room to bury his face in his pillow as an embarrassing arousal flooded his system.

And the most bold move that Soap had started with was the clothing.

Roach hadn’t noticed it at first. A few of his boxers and shirts missing from the laundry room weren't anything to worry about. After all, it could have been anything. He could have misplaced them or they could have ended up in someone else's things by mistake. He didn't think much of it, he was sure they would turn up sooner or later.

They had turned up, just not how he'd expected or wanted them to. He'd come back to his room after a conference with Price one day, just a check-in for how he'd been settling on the team, making sure he was getting along with the other team members. Simple things. Roach had said nothing about Soap. He'd hoped that the other’s perverted behavior and strong advances on him would simply fade with time.

Then he'd come into his room, finding a pair of his missing boxers crumpled up onto his bed. He'd blinked at the sight of them, wondering how they'd ended up there of all places. Then he'd grabbed them and realized with a startling yelp exactly where his boxers had been. He didn't think he'd ever rushed to a bathroom to wash his hands quicker than he had at that moment.

He knew it was Soap. He wasn't an idiot. The smirk that the other man had given him when they'd run into each other again on his way to rush to the laundry room was enough to fill him in, even if he hadn't suspected him. The following week saw all of his missing clothes being returned one by one, each covered in the evidence of Soap's perverted desire for him.

Soap hadn't stopped, he'd only grown bolder from there, even going so far as to sneak into Roach's room and take care of himself using Roach's pillow. Roach knew he wouldn't stop either. The other man would just keep going until he was satisfied with whatever he wanted from Roach. Whether it was just his body or all of him, it didn't matter. It wouldn't stop.

Roach knew he should have gone to Price. Should have raised a sexual harassment complaint against the man the moment he'd seen those drawings in the journal. The issue was that he had no proof of what Soap was doing. For as big of a perverted asshole as Soap was, he was a careful asshole. He'd never been anything but polite to Roach in front of the others. He'd hidden his tracks well, no evidence of him taking Roach's clothes or sneaking into his room or groping him. Roach could do nothing to prove it.

And, while he didn't necessarily need perfect proof, he knew that if he didn't have hard enough evidence the simple answer would be to separate Soap and Roach onto different teams. And since Soap had been on the 141 longer, it would likely be Roach on the chopping block. He wasn't willing to risk that, not everything he'd worked for. And definitely not over that asshole Soap MacTavish.

Roach had done everything in his power to avoid Soap. He didn’t want to find out exactly how the other man planned to step up his antics next, so he’d made a point to never be left alone with the Sergeant. Of course, he couldn’t avoid everything, and Soap always found an excuse to be touching him.

And, of course, Soap wasn’t an idiot. He’d clearly noticed that Roach was doing his damnedest to ignore and avoid him. The sudden frequency of his clothes going missing and the little drawing of him bent over a desk with a hand palming over his cunt and a clear handprint on his ass that had mysteriously shown up in his room was enough to tell him that Soap had noticed. Roach was nervous, especially as he could feel Soap’s eyes following him practically anywhere he went.

He felt paranoid. He hated the unwanted attention that the other man continued to find a way to give him. At least he told himself over and over that he hated the attention even as he kept that little drawing that had shown up in his room. Even if he found that he stopped caring so much about finding his missing clothing soiled on his bed.

He didn’t want what Soap was offering, so he’d done everything in his power to avoid the man. Of course, luck had never particularly been his strong suit, so it was only a matter of time before the universe decided that Roach couldn’t avoid Soap any longer. Roach just wondered if it had to happen just as he’d finished showering.

He was in the locker room, not by his own choice but by a cruel twist of fate. The water heater for his half of the building had gone and offed itself, so he’d elected to shower in the locker room rather than deal with freezing his ass off in his own shower.

Roach hadn’t thought much about it when he’d come into the locker room to someone else already showering in one of the other stalls. He assumed it was some other poor sap who’d lost the hot water in their room just as he had. So he’d just taken his own stall and started washing away the grime that had accumulated on his skin from the day’s training.

Distantly he picked up on the other shower turning off and whoever was there stepping out of the shower but, again, he paid it no mind. He just continued his usual routine of scrubbing his skin near raw to rid himself of the lingering feeling of dirt and sweat clinging to his skin. He’d assumed that the other person would have gone by the time that he’d finished.

Of course, that wasn’t the case and, when he’d stepped out of the shower with only a towel around his waist, dread seemed to pool in his gut. There, leaned casually against the locker in a wife beater and a pair of loose sweatpants was Soap, that stupid fucking smirk on his face as he met Roach’s eyes.

“Fuck,” Roach muttered under his breath. He tightened his grip on his towel before starting toward his things as quickly as he could. “Soap,” he acknowledged with a snap as he moved past the man and over toward his bag.

“Roach,” Soap sounded delighted with this turn of events. Delighted and all too smug. “Haven’t seen you in a minute.”

“You saw me at training today.”

“You know what I mean.” Soap pushed himself off of the locker, “Like this. Just the two of us. Blissfully alone.”

Roach opened the small bag he’d brought with him, digging through it to try and find his clothes, his brow wrinkling as he pushed past his extra towel and other necessities. “Have you considered that us not being left alone might have been purposeful? That maybe I don’t want to be alone with you?”

“Come on now,” Soap moved casually closer to him, and out of the corner of his eye, Roach could see the wicked grin that the man was wearing. Something about it spelled trouble for him, but he did his best to ignore it. “You can stop playing this game of yours, Roach, I know you want me. It’s easier if you just say it.”

“Want you?” Roach gave a frustrated laugh, “In your fucking dreams MacTavish.” He gave a grunt as he shoved more things aside in his bag. He couldn’t find his fucking clothes. It didn’t make sense, they were supposed to be right there when he opened his bag. Easy to grab and change into. Now, though, it was like they’d disappeared-

Roach froze, horror filling him as his mind snapped into place. The fucker hadn’t. He wouldn’t. Surely he wasn’t so bold. He didn’t want to believe it, but a large part of him already knew. He stayed still for a long moment until Soap, with that smug asshole voice of his asked, “Something wrong?”

“Where are they?” Roach snapped, abandoning his bag to round the bench and poke at Soap’s chest. “Give them back, this isn’t funny!”

Soap’s grin never fell from his face, even as he asked, “Give what back?”

“My clothes you asshole!”

“Ohhh,” Soap gave a dramatic shake of his head. “Silly me. You want to know what I did with your clothes?”

“Yes,” Roach snapped at him, feeling rage and embarrassment tugging at his chest. He could not believe that this was happening to him. That Soap would be so bold as to make a move like this in the locker room of all places. Of course, he shouldn’t have been surprised. If Soap was willing to break into his room and jerk off against his pillow, he was likely willing to do much worse. “Where are they?”

“Ah, I set 'em aside for a bit. Like you better like this anyways.” His eyes raked down Roach’s body and Roach resisted the urge to shiver. He swore that he could feel the look that Soap gave him on his skin, touching him just as the man in front of him so clearly wanted to do. “The uniforms good but this?” He gave a low whistle and Roach could feel his face go red. Whether it was from anger or embarrassment, he couldn’t be sure.

“You fucking prick!” Roach gave a quick harsh shove at Soap’s chest, knocking him back a few inches. Soap’s smirk only seemed to grow at the move, making Roach feel all the more annoyed with him. “Is it not enough to harass me at every turn? I can’t have a single break from your shit, can I?”

“My shit?” Soap closed the distance between them again. “Imagine being me, dealing with your ridiculous teasing.” Roach gaped at him at those words, completely taken aback by the implications of what Soap was saying. “You in that fucking uniform, always bending over in front of me, flaunting those pictures of you at the gym and in your fucking civvies? Gets my cock fucking twitching just talking about it.” He tilted his head back with a slight groan at the thought.

“You are such a fucking perv!” Roach took a step away from the other man. “I mean I should have known considering you broke into my room to jerk it against my pillow.” Soap took a step forward, following Roach as he backed away, trying to put any distance that he could between the two of them. “I’d at least hoped that around all the thinking with your dick, there was a part of you that respected me.” His back hit the cold tile of one of the shower stalls and soon enough he found himself caged in place as Soap’s hands hit the wall on either side of his head. “Should have known, you’re just another perverted asshole.”

Soap made a playful clicking sound with his tongue before shaking his head. “Oh no, Bug, you’ve got me all wrong. I do respect you.” He brought one of his hands down to push a strand of wet hair away from Roach’s forehead. He seemed oddly sincere for a few moments. “I respect you so much I mean, I want you on top…and on your back. And on your knees.”

“You fucking-”

Roach couldn’t say more around the tongue that forced its way into his mouth and the knee that shoved its way between his thighs, pressing against his cunt through the towel blocking his modesty. The pressure was downright deadly, a slow and steady pressure against his clit that had his hands shaking as he went to push at Soap’s shoulders, a weak attempt to get the man to move away. He didn’t know if he actually wanted Soap’s heat away from his body.

It was almost cathartic for him, in an odd way. Finally having Soap pressed up against him, finally having the other man act on his disgusting thoughts and the desire he so clearly felt for Roach. The desire that had driven him to do so much, to push the boundaries, and now to take what he desired. It was like the final piece of a puzzle that he’d been trying to finish for months.

Soap’s hands grabbed at Roach’s hips, pinning him to the wall pressed tight against his own body. When Roach tried again to pull away from his mouth, Soap was quick to move and wind a hand into Roach’s hair, gripping tight enough to pull a gasp of pain from Roach’s lips. He didn’t even act like he noticed Roach’s hands trying to push him away like Roach wasn’t strong enough even to bother him.

After a short moment, Soap pulled his mouth away from Roach’s, still holding tight to his hair to keep him in place. He gave a downright predatory grin toward Roach, a small chuckle slipping from his lips. “Is that all you can give as a struggle? I thought you’d at least pretend that you didn’t want me.”

“Shut the fuck up,” Roach hissed, shoving at Soap’s chest harder, “and get the fuck off of me you fucking asshole!”

“God,” Soap bounced his leg, forcing a small whine from Roach’s throat, “Look at you. You want my cock so bad, don’t you baby?” He yanked Roach away from the wall and, with a small fight between the two men, eventually forced Roach to the ground, splayed out on his back with his legs bracketing Soap’s waist. The towel around his waist was lost in the struggle, so he could do nothing but shiver at the cold press of tile against his back and feel shame creeping up his spine as Soap drank in the sight of his cunt.

Roach squirmed in Soap’s grasp, trying to kick his legs out and at the very least get the man to look anywhere other than where his gaze was fixed. It only resulted in Soap’s hands gripping tight to his thighs, tight enough to bruise, all to hold him in place as he took in his fill. Roach could have died from embarrassment as he felt heat pooling in his gut from the move. Between his thighs felt much slicker than it had moments ago and based on the shit-eating grin that crossed Soap’s face, he’d noticed it.

“Like being manhandled, don’t you?” Soap leaned down and nipped at his chest, following the move with a quick soothing slide of his tongue. Roach gasped at the feeling and reacted on instinct, reaching out to smack at Soap’s shoulder, glaring at him as he did. Soap didn’t let that go too easily, immediately removing his hands from Roach’s thighs to pin his arms down. He lowered himself until his face was hovering just over Roach’s, his clothed cock pressed tight against Roach’s wet cunt. “That wasn’t very nice.”

Soap rolled his hips forward, starting a slow rolling grind of his hips, groaning and panting as he did. He didn’t hide how much he was enjoying himself, from rutting his hard cock against Roach and panting desperately in his ear, it was clear that this alone was quite enough for him. Roach couldn’t deny the desire that sparked in him at being treated in such a way, like nothing more than a pillow for Soap to hump. Nothing more than an object, a toy, for Soap to use.

He tried to bite back his own moans at the friction of Soap’s sweatpants rubbing against his clit, but the feeling of it was too fucking good and not quite enough of what he wanted. He could tamper down most of his moans, but the gasping breaths and the whimpers were another story, and Soap’s laughter against his ear was enough to tell Roach that he’d noticed.

“Doesn’t this feel right, bug? Pressed under my cock just like you were meant to be.”

Roach clenched his jaw and did his best to speak clearly around the ever-growing arousal in his chest and his own desire to just stop fighting against what Soap was saying. The slow pressure against his clit was almost enough to have him admitting it, admitting that he liked it and that this was exactly where he was meant to be. Instead, he responded, “Pinned under you when I’d rather it be anyone else? Nothing’s ever felt more wrong.”

“Well,” Soap pulled back and gave a wicked grin, his eyes tracing down Roach’s body as he spoke, “the wet spot at the front of my sweatpants says different, love. That’s all from this sweet cunt weeping for me.” He shifted Roach’s arms into one hand before tracing his fingers down Roach’s body until they met his cunt. He paused for a moment, a teasing heat right where Roach’s body was begging for his touch, he didn’t make the wait long.

His fingers traced along Roach’s slit slowly, collecting slick on them to make the sudden press against his clit all the smoother. Roach’s back nearly arched from the tile floors at the feeling, a strangled moan escaping his mouth as he tried to fight back the evidence of his pleasure. Soap looked like the cat who’d got the cream at the move, a smug sense of satisfaction radiating from his body as he worked his fingers in slow circles against Roach. Roach did his best to keep them down, but moans seemed to spill from his lips even without his permission.

“Do you,” he started, cutting himself off with a whimper and a slight tug against Soap’s hand as his hips jumped up against the fingers playing at him. “Do you not hear yourself?” His breathing was labored and Soap’s eyes seemed fixated on his body. From the red flush over his skin to the way that his fingers looked against his puffy clit. “What are you, some sort of dog? Salivating like I’m a slab of meat.”

Soap gave a quick playful snap of his teeth just by his neck, his fingers slipping away from Roach’s clit to begin toying at his slit. He pressed the tip of his finger into Roach, holding it there for a moment, his eyes wide and his mouth falling open just a bit as he began to sink the digit inside of Roach’s body. “I’ll fuck you like a dog,” he spoke, his voice sounding breathy and desperate. To Roach, it sounded like the other man was on a precarious edge, bound to fall and turn to something more violent.

Roach only gave a small hum of pleasure as Soap sunk his finger in to the knuckle. Soap’s fingers were thick, thicker than his own and he was sure that if he was going to take the man’s cock, this would be necessary. “Need this, don’t you,” Soap muttered. “Cunts fucking tight, gonnae feel real good around me.”

Roach let his head knock back against the tile floor harshly, trying to get some sort of grip on himself as Soap began to slowly work his finger in and out of him, giving shallow little thrusts and crooks that just weren’t the right pace. It was a desperate few moments, but, finally, Roach stopped pretending that he didn’t want what was happening.

His hips bucked up against Soap’s fingers, pulling a desperate moan from his mouth and surprising Soap enough that he paused, eyes wide. Roach could have shouted from the frustration he felt in that moment, instead, he settled on snapping, “You talk such a big game, come on then. Fuck me and maybe if you actually manage to get me off with your clumsy fingers and weak cock I’ll let you do it again.”

Soap blinked wide at him for a moment before his face morphed into a brief picture of delighted rage. “Fucking slut.” He didn’t give Roach any sort of prep before shoving a second finger inside of him, immediately setting a rough pace with a slap of his palm against Roach’s clit with every thrust of his fingers. “We’ll see if you can still talk that shit when I’ve got you begging like a bitch in heat.”

Roach moaned at the thought, his eyes fluttering just a bit as Soap’s hands grew just a bit rougher, a bit more possessive and demanding. The fingers fucking into his cunt were so good, filling and stretching him just right. Just right enough to have him squirming and jerking his hips up, already begging for another as they scissored him open and curled against his walls cruelly. It resulted in downright embarrassing noises spilling from his mouth, even as Soap gave him what he asked for and slowly began to work a third finger inside of him.

“Have ta’ spread you open real good,” Soap’s words were spoken in a near growl, something rather brutal and beastly in the way that his hands tightened and his fingers became crueler, his thumb finding his clit to press him with constant stimulation. Roach was practically shaking as Soap leaned down, allowing his mouth to attack the exposed skin of his chest.

His teeth and tongue began to tease at one of Roach’s nipples, laughter shaking his chest as Roach pressed up into the touch. “What happened to that fire, ah? Cat got your tongue?”

“Shut the fuck up,” Roach managed to mutter around the pleasure that seemed to be blocking his throat, “and keep fucking touching me.”

“What was that?” Soap’s words betrayed exactly what he wanted to hear, punctuated with the slowing of his fingers as they worked at Roach’s cunt.

Roach gave a desperate whimper at the sudden loss of stimulation, tossing in Soap’s grasp in an attempt to gain even a little bit of it back. It didn’t work, and soon he found himself glaring up at Soap, shame burning his chest. “Fuck you.”

“Not until you ask me properly,” Soap teased.

“Fuck,” Roach tossed his head back with a desperate sob. He knew that Soap would hold him to it as well. The man was a fucking sniper for god sake, he had to have the patience and control of a saint when he needed it and Roach would bet anything that he needed it now. “Please,” he spoke the words quietly.

“What was that?”

“Please,” Roach spoke louder, a desperate sob pulling from his throat, “Please, Soap, just fuck me.”

“I thought you didn’t want it,” Soap leaned closer, letting his thumb just brush against Roach’s clit slowly, pulling another pleasured sob from Roach’s throat. “What was it you said? You’d prefer it if it was anyone else?”

“No,” Roach shook his head desperately. “Please, please I want it. Only need you to fuck me, need your cock. Please, Soap!”

Soap gave a careful chuckle, pulling his fingers from Roach’s cunt and slowly releasing his arms. His hands moved down to the waistband of his sweatpants and Roach watched through the fog hazing over his mind as Soap pulled his sweatpants and boxers down over his ass, allowing him to finally get a look at the thick hard cock that had been straining against the material. Roach nearly moaned at the sight of it, knowing that it would feel fucking perfect splitting him open.

Roach spread his legs wide for the man, moaning at the feeling of those hands returning to his thighs, one of them now covered in his own arousal. Their grip was near bruising as Soap lined his cock up with Roach’s cunt, slowly pushing himself until he had just the tip resting inside of Roach. He paused there, tilting his head back with a guttural groan before his eyes returned to Roach’s. They were clouded in lust, but Roach could still see the amusement that plagued them as he teased, “Told you I’d have you moaning like a bitch in heat.”

Roach didn’t get a chance to respond before Soap slammed his hips forward, sinking all the way into his cunt with one smooth move. There was no chance to speak, no chance to even adjust as Soap continued pounding into him, driving his hips deeper and deeper into him with every thrust. Roach’s hands locked onto his shoulders, grabbing tight in desperation for any sort of stabilization.

Each rock of Soap’s hips sent Roach’s entire body knocking knocking harshly against the floor. Even Soap’s bruising grip on his thighs, the same one that he was using to keep Roach firmly in place, wasn’t enough against the strong thrusts that threatened to bruise his hips. There was something so good about the slide of Soap’s cock, every line and curve of it rubbing so perfectly inside of him, teasing parts of him that he was sure no one else had ever managed to touch.

His nails dug into Soap’s shoulders, aiming to hurt even as the man above him sent pleasure coursing down his spine. He could see Soap wince and something about that brought a sick sense of satisfaction to him. At least that was until Soap gave him a grin, “Is that what you want baby? You want to hurt me a little?” He jerked down, slamming his mouth against Roach’s in a bruising kiss. His tongue invaded Roach’s mouth, sending their teeth clacking together and their noses bumping painfully. “Go on, Bug,” he pulled back, nipping at Roach’s lips until blood was spilling down his chin, “just know I’ll take full permission to hurt you back.”

He pulled back again, resuming the quick pace of his hips as he leaned over Roach’s body, panting with blood on his lips. His eyes never seemed to leave Roach’s face, as though he was afraid to miss any second of pleasure from him. Roach couldn’t stand to hold his gaze, the mere thought of it making his face burn hotter than was comfortable for him. He needed something to focus on, something other than Soap and the intense look in his eyes.

He found it in the form of a swinging disk in front of his face. It slipped out from Soap’s wife beater, a shiny silver little disk that took to swaying with every thrust of his hips. Roach found himself mesmerized by it, the continued sway of silver and the near-melodic sound of skin slapping skin harshly. Roach had to fight against the desire to grab it and use it to yank the man down for another kiss, hoping to bite and bruise at his lip just the way he’d done to him.

The thought of it pulled a whine from his lips and he couldn’t help but arch up into the other man, desperate to feel more than just his hands on his skin. More than just the fat cock pounding into him and sending heat building between his legs. Everything was so good, so terribly fucking good and he hated it.

“Fuck, fuck you’re so fucking good.” Soap released one of his thighs to skate his hand across Roach’s bare chest, teasing at his nipples for a slow moment. He let his hand trace further up, wrapping around Roach’s neck loosely, providing only a slight pressure as he continued muttering filth. “Fucking slut, practically squeezing my cock. You’ve wanted this, haven’t you?”

“Fuck,” Roach whined, “You fucking perv, gonna be stroking your cock thinking about this for the next year, aren’t you?” He wrapped his hands around Soap’s wrist, lightly holding his hand in place against his neck. “Probably draw this in your little book of fantasies you sick fuck.”

Soap groaned at the words, a small smirk formed on his lips as he responded, “Don’t worry, I’ll make you a copy to have.” He tightened his grip momentarily, just flexing his hands. It reminded Roach of the power that the man had over him at the moment, and it only made him feel that much closer to spilling over Soap’s cock.

“Bet you’d like that,” Roach had to work around his moans and the heavy breathing that a simple hand on his throat caused. “Probably imagine me with my fingers on my clit, maybe riding a cock screaming your name.”

Soap grasped tight to his neck then, using the grip to guide Roach’s back from the ground until they were face to face. He tilted his head, a nasty snarl on his face, “Now who’s the fucking dog.” He was quick to grab Roach’s arms, manhandling him around until he was on his hands and knees, Soap’s cock still spearing in and out of him. “Let me fuck you like the dog you are.” A short moment passed before Roach could feel a warm metal settle around his neck. A single look down and he could see that it was Soap’s I.D. disk. The mere sight of it was enough to have him moaning out, his arms giving out under him and forcing him to fall forward roughly against the tile. “And there’s my bitches collar.”

Roach was sure that people outside of the locker room had to be able to hear them. There was no way that they couldn’t, not when Soap was fucking into his cunt so violently and pulling screams of his name from his lips like flowing wine. He couldn’t help himself, he couldn’t keep quiet. Not when his body was burning hot, contrasting with such a heavenly feeling against the cool tile of the floor. Not when he was sure that he wasn’t going to be walking straight by the time Soap finished with him. Not when he wasn’t sure that he was going to be able to resist another night like this with the pervert slamming his cock inside of him.

He couldn’t form any words, couldn’t get his mouth to cooperate. He couldn’t get his brain to provide any help, his mind so foggy that any thoughts of insults were long past what he was capable of. All that he could do was scream and whine and beg for Soap to keep going. Keep going because it was the best he’d ever had. Keep going because he was so fucking desperate for him. Keep going because he was right there, right there at the edge.

Soap never stopped. Roach could hear his smug laughter and he could practically see that smug fucking smirk on his face, but it did nothing to cut through the overwhelming pleasure pulsing through him. The pleasure built and built until his toes were curling and his cunt was clenching and he was coming over Soap’s cock with his vision going black and a pitiful scream pulled from his mouth.

He could hardly register anything. Not Soap’s hips stuttering and the curses falling from his lips. Not the choked-out delight that the man gave as he fucked into Roach only a few more times before creating even more of a mess by filling him with his cum. Not the way that Soap continued to move, fucking his cum into Roach. Not even the slick dripping down his legs to pool into the puddle he’d created on the ground, the remnants of one of the most intense orgasms that he’d had in his life.

When he finally was able to realize what was going on around him, it was because he was being lifted from the ground, Soap’s cock still snug inside of his cunt as he was forced to wrap his legs around the other's waist and his arms around his neck. He could only watch dumbly as Soap brought them over to one of the shower stalls and turned the handle, shocking them both with a burst of cold water over their bodies. It was soon soothed by a stream of warm water, though Roach thought perhaps the cold would have been better as he was pressed against the wall of the little shower stall.

“Not done with you yet,” Soap grunted, his eyes still showing a sort of intense hunger that had Roach’s cunt pulsing with need. “I’ve got other ways to make you scream my name and I don’t think I’ve heard you begging quite enough for my tastes. Have to put my dog to work, don’t I?”

Roach was walking with a limp the next day. His legs were still shaky and there were bruises on his thighs and his neck and he was sure he looked exhausted. Soap hadn’t let him get too much sleep the night before. Plain and simple, Roach was sure he looked a mess as he stumbled into the conference room where Gaz, Ghost, and Price were waiting for him and Soap.

Soap wasn’t there yet, a bit of a blessing as Roach was sure that he wouldn’t be able to handle looking at the man quite yet. It was too much, too soon. He needed a moment around the others before he could face Soap again. God knows when he’d be able to face the man alone again.

As he stumbled into the conference room, he did his best to look as normal as he could. It clearly didn’t work as, within a second, Ghost was at his side. His arm wrapped around Roach’s waist, his hand grabbing at his upper thigh to help stabilize him as he stood. Roach felt himself go a bit red, noticing the scrutinizing gaze that Price sent his way. Gaz seemed to be watching him just as closely as though he was also trying to figure out what had happened.

“Not going to fall on me, are you?” Ghost asked, his voice dropping into a soft mutter.

Roach was quick to shake his head, an embarrassed smile lighting up his face. “No, sorry I uh, rough night last night.”

Price leaned back in his seat, crossing his arms over his chest. “I’m guessing Soap finally stopped with his little games and took you like he wanted?”

Roach could feel shock rush through his body, nearly knocking him over and forcing him to lean further onto Ghost for support. Ghost didn’t seem to mind much, simply, tightening his grip. “You,” he stuttered over himself for a moment, “You knew?”

“What,” Gaz was the one who chimed in, a small innocent smile on his face, “You think Soap was making those drawings just for him? Think he was able to sneak into your room so easily without a key from the cap?” He leaned forward then, tapping the table and shaking his head at Roach, “Didn’t think you were that naive, Bug.”

Roach gaped at the two men for a moment, his eyes shooting between them. “Maybe,” Price started, reaching into one of his pockets to pull out a cigar, “he’ll share some of the new ones, based on the real thing with us.”

“Fuck,” Gaz gave a groan and leaned back in his seat, his eyes dragging along Roach’s body. “Maybe if we’re lucky he’ll share the real thing with us.”

“I think,” Roach felt dizzy for a moment, “I think I need to sit down.”

Immediately, Ghost started helping him toward one of the seats at the little conference table, but Roach wasn’t a fool. He could feel Ghost’s hand slide purposely from his thigh over his ass, grasping at him for a short moment before sliding his hand up to trace along his waist. Roach nearly fell into the seat as soon as he was able, his eyes wide as he looked up at Ghost. “You too?”

Ghost made a point to lean close to him, so close that Roach could feel his breath through the mask before he finally whispered, “Sounded good yelling for Johnny last night. You’ll sound better screaming for me.”

He stood up straight then, as though he hadn’t said anything at all, and started back toward his seat, plopping down with a casual move that had Roach feeling dizzy.

He supposed he should have seen this coming. After all, the only way that Soap could have gotten away with all that he did was if he had a team backing him. A team with the same perverted fantasies running through their minds.

#gary roach sanderson #call of duty #john soap mactavish #captain john price #simon ghost riley #kyle gaz garrick #soaproach #soap/roach #call of duty fanfic #call of duty fanfiction

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chimichaching · 1 day

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I know it's bland, having an art block type moment ig.

After fiddleford left the project, Ford started to become delusional, having no one to keep him grounded in reality. He lets Bill possess him more frequently, to keep the one he trusted in the most in his life, he isolated himself from everyone, and Bill was all he had left. He hears Bill in his head, in his thoughts, and sees him in his dreams. When he wasn't in them, Ford would beg, or pray, to bill, afraid he'll lose him. Sitting in his room full of bill cipher relics, drawings, and tapestries for hours, he'd be finishing up the portal as Bill requested. When Ford did go out for food and toiletries, he'd ramble to others about Bill, how powerful he was, and how they'd benefit from his wisdom and power. Some would brush him off, others, looking for answers and already suseptible to manipulation and promises of an easier life listened. Bill, the narcissistic being he is, commands Ford to grow a following, a place of worship, Ford being the priest, his disciple.

As Ford loses his sanity, he believes anything bad or good that's happened to him was because of Bill being either pleased or displeased with him. He sees him in anything that had any resemblance of Bill, a yield sign, triangle perfume bottles, children's books, hell, even pizza and doritos! Feeling as if he was watching, anywhere at anytime.

Ford has finished the portal, or has put the finishing touches on it, allowing Bills plan to finally begin, Ford, his henchmaniacs and his cult help Bill in various ways, destroying the forcefield around the town, Bill begins his never-ending "party" with Ford as his devoted disciple and partner. The world goes into chaos.

The twins, dipper and Mabel, never visit gravity falls, Stanley never getting that call from Ford. The twins were not born yet, never stopping Bill, fiddleford still created the blind eye, but the group is forced underground to avoid danger as the cult grew. "The all seeing eye" was Ford's new cult he made for Bill, mocking the blind eye's group.

Dipper and Mabel are born into chaos, raised to fear and worship Bill and his henchmaniacs, however they rebeled, Dipper researching how to stop Bill, his henchmaniacs...and his grunkle Ford. Mabel has a knack for building weapons and is able to evade detection from gangs as she searches for food, water, and supplies for her and dipper in their hometown, piedmont, California.

Ok, ok, I know it's long, but i just needed to put this somewhere, I'm not a good story teller and I haven't truly read the journals or the book of bill just yet, I'm going off by the little I know from the show and what I've seen and read. I wanted to see an angsty AU, didn't find one or just didn't search hard enough, so...forgive me if it's totally out of order, thank you for reading and I hope I did ok. <3 it's also 4 AM where I'm at..so there might be mistakes.

#bill cipher #gravity falls #billford #bill ci the demon guy #bill ci the triangle guy #fanart #cult #stanford pines #angst #first story #i regret this already #embarrassed

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signalburst · 5 months

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Shōgun Historical Shallow-Dive: the Final Part - The Samurai Were Assholes, When 'Accuracy' Isn't Accurate, Beautiful Art, and Where to From Here

Final part. There is an enormous cancer attached to the samurai mythos and James Clavell's orientalism that I need to address. Well, I want to, anyway. In acknowledging how great the 2024 adaptation of Shōgun is, it's important to engage with the fact that it's fiction, and that much of its marketed authenticity is fake. That doesn't take away from it being an excellent work of fiction, but it is a very important distinction to me.

If you want to engage with the cool 'honourable men with swords' trope without thinking any deeper, navigate away now. Beyond here, there are monsters - literal and figurative. If you're interested in how different forms of media are used to manufacture consent and shape national identity, please bear with me.

I think the makers of 2024's Shōgun have done a fantastic job. But there is one underlying problem they never fully wrestled with. It's one that Hiroyuki Sanada, the leading man and face of the production team, is enthusiastically supportive of. And with the recent announcement of Season 2, it's likely to return. You may disagree, but to me, ignoring this dishonours the millions of people who were killed or brutalised by either the samurai class, or people in the 20th century inspired by a constructed idea of them.

Why are we drawn to the samurai?

A pretty badly sourced, but wildly popular history podcast contends that 'The Japanese are just like everybody else, only more so.' I saw a post on here that tried to make the assertion that the show's John Blackthorne would have been exposed to as much violence as he saw in Japan, and wouldn't have found it abnormal.

This is incorrect. Obviously 16th and 17th century Europe were violent places, but they contained violence familiar to Europeans through their cultural lens. Why am I confidently asserting this? We have hundreds of letters, journals and reports from Spaniards, Portuguese, Dutch and English expressing absolute horror about what they encountered. Testing swords on peasants was becoming so common that it would eventually become the law of the land. Crucifixion was enacted as a punishment for Christians - first by the Taiko, then by the Tokugawa shogunate - for irony's sake.

Before the end of the feudal period, battles would end with the taking of heads for washing and display. Depending on who was viewing them, this was either to honour them, or to gloat: 'I'm alive, you're dead.' These things were ritualised to the point of being codified when real-life Toranaga took control. Seppuku started as a cultural meme and ended up being the enforced punishment for any minor mistake for the 260 years the ruling samurai class acted as the nation's bureaucracy. It got more and more ritualised and flowery the more it got divorced from its origin: men being ordered by other men to kill themselves during a period of chaotic warfare. I've read accounts of samurai 'warriors' during the Edo period committing seppuku for being late for work. Not life-and-death warrior work - after Sekigahara, they were just book-keepers. They had desk jobs.

Since Europe's contact with Japan, the samurai myth has fascinated and appalled in equal measure. As time has gone on, the fascination has gone up and the horror has been dialled down. This is not an accident. This isn't just a change in the rest of the world's perception of the samurai. This is the result of approximately 120 years of Japanese government policies. Successive governments - nationalist, military authoritarian, and post-war democratic - began to lionize the samurai as the perfect warrior ideal, and sanitize the history of their origin and their heydey (the period Shōgun covers). It erases the fact that almost all of the fighting of the glorious samurai Sengoku Jidai was done by peasant ashigaru (levies), who had no choice.

It is important to never forget why this was done initially: to form an imagined-historical ideal of a fighting culture. An imagined fighting culture that Japanese invasion forces could emulate to take colonies and subdue foreign populations in WWI, and, much more brutally, in WWII. James Clavell came into contact with it as a Japanese Prisoner of War.

He just didn't have access to the long view, or he didn't care.

The Original Novel - How One Ayn Rand Fan Introduced Japan to America

There's a reason why 1975's Shogun novel contains so many historical anachronisms. James Clavell bought into a bunch of state-sanctioned lies, unachored in history, about the warring states period, the concept of bushido (manufactured after the samurai had stopped fighting), and the samurai class's role in Japanese history.

For the novel, I could go into great depth, but there are three things that stand out.

Never let the truth get in the way of a good story. He's a novelist, and he did what he liked. But Clavell's novel was groundbreaking in the 70's because it was sold as a lightly-fictionalised history of Japan. The unfortunate fact is the official version that was being taught at the time (and now) is horseshit, and used for far-right wing authoritarian/nationalist political projects. The Three Unifiers and the 'honour of the samurai' magnates at the time is a neat package to tell kids and adults, but it was manufactured by an early-20th century Japanese Imperial Government trying to harness nationalism for building up a war-ready population. Any slightly critical reading of the primary sources shows the samurai to be just like any ruling class - brutal, venal, self-interested, and horrifically cruel. Even to their contemporary warrior elites in Korea and China.

Fake history as propraganda. Clavell swallowed and regurgitated the 'death before dishonour', 'loyalty to the cause above all else', 'it's all for the Realm' messages that were deployed to justify Imperial Japanese Army Class-A war crimes during the war in the Pacific and the Creation of the Greater East Asian Co-Properity Sphere. This retroactive samurai ethos was used in the late Meiji restoration and early 20th century nationalist-military governments to radicalise young Japanese men into being willing to die for nothing, and kill without restraint. The best book on this is An Introduction to Japanese Society by Sugimoto Yoshio, but there is a vast corpus of scholarship to back it up.

Clavell's orientalism strays into outright racism. Despite the novel Shōgun undercutting John Blackthorne as a white savior in its final pages - showing him as just a pawn in the game - Clavell's politics come into play in every Asia Saga novel. A white man dominates an Asian culture through the power of capitalism. This is orthagonal to points 1 and 2, but Clavell was a devotee of Ayn Rand. There's a reason his protagonists all appear cut from the same cloth. They thrust their way into an unfamiliar society, they use their knowledge of trade and mercantilism to heroically save the day, they are remarked upon by the Asian characters as braver and stronger, and they are irresistible to the - mostly simpering, extremely submissive - caricatures of Asian women in his novels. Call it a product of its times or a product of Clavell's beliefs, I still find it repulsive. Clavell invents (nearly from whole cloth, actually) the idea that samurai find money repulsive and distasteful, and his Blackthorne shows them the power of commerce and markets. Plus there are numerous other stereotypes (Blackthorne's massive dick! Japanese men have tiny penises! Everyone gets naked and bathes together because they're so sexually free! White guys are automatically cool over there!) that have fuelled the fantasies of generations of non-Japanese men, usually white: Clavell's primary audience of 'dad history' buffs.

2024's Shōgun, as a television adaptation, did a far better job in almost every respect

But the show did much better, right? Yes. Unquestionably. It was an incredible achievement in bringing forward a tired, stereotypical story to add new themes of cultural encounter, questioning one's place in the broader world, and killing your ego. In many ways, the show was the antithesis to Clavell's thesis.

It drastically reigned in the anachronistic, ahistorical referencees to 'bushido' and 'samurai honor', and showed the ruling class of Japan in 1600 much more accurately. John Blackthorne (William Adams) was shown to be an extraordinary person, but he wasn't central to the outcome of the Eastern Army-Western Army civil war. There aren't scenes of him being the best lover every woman he encounters in Japan has ever had (if you haven't read the book, this is not an exaggeration). He doesn't teach Japanese warriors how to use matchlock rifles, which they had been doing for two hundred years. He doesn't change the outcome of enormous events with his thrusting, self-confident individualism. In 2024's Shōgun, Blackthorne is much like his historical counterpart. He was there for fascinating events, but not central. He wasn't teaching Japanese people basic concepts like how to make money or how to make war.

On fake history - the manufactured samurai mythos - it improved on the novel, but didn't overcome the central problems. In many ways, I can't blame the showrunners. Many of the central lies (and they are deliberate lies) constructed around the concept of samurai are hallmarks of the genre. But it's still important to me to notice when it's happening - even while enjoying some of the tropes - without passively accepting it.

'Authenticity' to a precisely manufactured story, not to history

There's a core problem surrounding the promotion and manufactured discussion surrounding 2024's Shōgun. I think it's a disconnect between the creative and marketing teams, but it came up again and again in advertising and promotion for the show: 'It's authentic. It's as real as possible.'

I've only seen this brought up in one article, Shōgun Has a Japanese-Superiority Complex, by Ryu Spaeth:

'The show also valorizes a supreme military power that is tempered by the pursuit of beauty and the highest of cultures, as if that might be a formula for peace. Shōgun displays these two extremes of the Japanese self, the savagery and the refinement, but seems wholly unaware that there may be a connection between them, that the exquisite sensibility Japan is famous for may flow from, and be a mask for, its many uses of atrocious domination.'

Here we come to authenticity.

'The publicity surrounding the series has focused on its fidelity to authenticity: multiple rounds of translation to give the dialogue a “classical” feel; fastidious attention to how katana swords should be slung, how women of the nobility should fold their knees when they sit, how kimonos should be colored and styled; and, crucially, a decentralization of the narrative so that it’s not dominated by the character John Blackthorne.'

It's undeniable that the 2024 production spent enormous amounts of energy on authenticity. But authenticity to what? To traditional depictions of samurai in Japanese media, not to history itself. The experts hired for gestures, movement, costumes, buildings, and every other aspect of the show were experts with decades in experience making Japanese historical dramas 'look right', not experts in Japanese history. But this appeal to 'Japanese authenticity' was made in almost every piece of promotional material.

The show had only one historical advisor on staff, and he was Dutch. The numerous Japanese consultants, experts and specialists brought on board (talked about at length in the show's marketing and behind the scenes) were there to assist with making an accurate Japanese jidaigeki. It's the difference between hiring an experienced BBC period drama consultant, and a historian specialising in the Regency. One knows how to make things look 'right' to a British audience. The other knows what actually happened.

That's fine, but a critical viewing of the show needs to engage with this. It's a stylistically accurate Japanese period drama. It is not an accurate telling of Japanese history around the unification of Japan. If it was, the horses would be the size of ponies, there would be far more malnourished and brutalised peasants, the word samurai would have far less importance as it wasn't yet a rigidly enforced caste, seppuku wouldn't yet be ritualised and performed with as much frequency, and Toranaga - Tokugawa - would be a famously corpulently obese man, pounding the saddle of his horse in frustration at minor setbacks, as he was in history.

The noble picture of restraint, patience, refinement and honour presented by Hiroyuki Sanada as Toranaga/Tokugawa is historical sanitation at its most extreme. Despite being Sanada's personal hero, Tokugawa Ieyasu was a brutal warlord (even for the standards of the time), and he committed acts of horrific cruelty. He ordered many more after gaining ultimate power. Think a miniseries about the Founding Fathers of the United States that doesn't touch upon slavery - I'm sure there have been plenty.

The final myth that 2024's Shōgun leaves us with is that it took a man like Toranaga - Tokugawa Ieyasu - to bring peace to a land ripped assunder by chaos. This plays into 19th century notions of Great Man History, and is a neat story, but the consensus amongst historians is if it wasn't Tokugawa, it would have been some other cunt. In many cases, it very nearly was. His success was historical contingency, not 5D chess.

So how did this image get manufactured, to the point where the Japanese populace - by and large - believes it to be true? Very long story short: after a period of rapid modernisation, Japan embraced nationalism in the late 19th century. It was all the rage. Nationalism depends on a glorified past. The samurai (recently the pariahs of Japanese history) were repurposed as Japan's unique warrior heroes, and woven into state education. This was especially heated in the 1920s and 30s in the lead up to the invasion of Manchuria and Japan's war of aggression in the Pacific. Nationalism + militarism = the modern Japanese samurai myth, to prepare men to obey orders unquestioningly from a military dictatorship.

This persists in the postwar period. Every year since 1963, Japan's state broadcaster NHK commissions a historical drama - a Taiga Drama, where many of this show's actors got their starts - that manufactures and re-enforces the idea of samurai as noble, artful, honourable people. Read a book - read a Wikipedia article! - and you'll see that most of it stems from Tokugawa-shogunate era self-propaganda. It's much like the European re-interpretation of chivalry. In Europe's case, chivalry in actual history was a set of guidelines that allowed for the sanctioned mass-rape and murder of civilians, with a side of rules regarding the ransoming of nobles in scorched-earth military campaigns. In Japan's case, historical figures that regularly backstabbed each other, tortured rival warriors and their lessers, and inflicted horrific casualties on the peasants that they owned (we have a term for that) are cast as noble, honourable, dedicated servants of the Empire.

Why does this matter to me? Samurai movies and TV shows are just media, after all. The issue, for me, is that the actors, the producers - including Hiroyuki Sanada - passionately extoll 'accuracy' as if they genuinely believe they're telling history. They talk emotionally about bushido and its special place in Japanese society.

But the entire concept of bushido is a retroactive, post-conflict, samurai construction. Bushio is bullshit. Despite being spoken of as the central tenet of 2024's Shōgun by actors like Hiroyuki Sanada, Tadanobu Asano, and Tokuma Nishioka, it simply didn't exist at the time. It was made up after the advent of modern nationalism.

It was used to justify horrendous acts during the late Edo period, the Meiji restoration, and the years leading up to the conclusion of Japan's war of aggression in the Pacific. It's still used now by Japan's primarily right-wing government to deny war crimes and justify the horrors unleashed on Asia and the Pacific during World War II as some kind of noble warrior crusade. If you ever want your stomach turned, visit the museum attached to Yasukuni Shrine. It's a theme park dedicated to war crimes denial, linked intimately to Japan's imagined warrior past. Whether or not the production staff, cast, and marketing team of 2024's Shōgun knew they were engaging with a long line of ahistorical bullshit is unknown, but it is important.

It's also important to acknowledge that, having listened to many interviews with Rachel Kondo and Justin Marks, they were acutely aware that they weren't Japanese, to claim to be telling an authentically Japanese story would be wrong, and that all they could do was do their best to make an engaging work that plays on ideas of cultural encounter and letting go. I think the 'authenticity!' thing is mostly marketing, and judicious editing of what the creators and writers actually said in interviews.

So... you hate the show, then? What the hell is this all about?

No, I love the show. It's beautiful. But it's a beautiful artwork.

Just as the noh theatre in the show was a twisting of events within the show, so are all works of fiction that take inspiration from history. Some do it better than others. And on balance, in the show, Shōgun did it better than most. But so much of the marketing and the discussion of this adaptation has been on its accuracy. This has been by design - it was the strategy Disney adopted to market the show and give it a unique viewing proposition.

'This time, Shōgun is authentic!*

*an authentic Japanese period drama, but we won't mention that part.

And audiences have conflated that with what actually happened, as opposed to accuracy to a particular form of Japanese propaganda that has been honed over a century. This difference is crucial.

It doesn't detract from my enjoyment of it. Where I view James Clavell's novel as a horrid remnant of an orientalist, racist past, I believe the showrunners of 2024's Shōgun have updated that story to put Japanese characters front and centre, to decentralise the white protagonist to a more accurate place of observation and interest, and do their best to make a compelling subversion of the 'stranger in a strange land' tale.

But I don't want anyone who reads my words or has followed this series to think that the samurai were better than the armed thugs of any society. They weren't more noble, they weren't more honourable, they weren't more restrained. They just had 260 years in which they worked desk-jobs while wearing two swords to write stories about how glorious the good old days were, and how great people were.

Well... that's a bleak note to end on. Where to from here?

There are beautiful works of fiction that engage much closer with the actual truth of the samurai class that I'd recommend. One even stars Hiroyuki Sanada, and is (I think) his finest role.

I'd really encourage anyone who enjoyed Shōgun to check out The Twilight Samurai. That was the reality for the vast majority of post-Sekigahara samurai

For something closer to the period that Shogun is set, the best film is Seppuku (Hara-Kiri in English releases). It is a post-war Japanese film that engages both with the reality of samurai rule, and, through its central themes, how that created mythos was used to radicalise millions of Japanese into senseless death during the war. It is the best possible response to a romanticisation of a brutal, hateful period of history, dominated by cruel men who put power first, every single time.

I want to end this series, if I can, with hope. I hope that reading the novel or watching the 1980 show or the 2024 show has ignited in people an interest in Japanese culture, or society, or history. But don't let that be an end. Go further. There are so many things that aren't whitewashed warlords nobly killing - the social history of Japan is amazing, as is the women's history. A great book for getting an introduction to this is The Japanese: A History in 20 Lives.

And outside of that, there are so many beautiful Japanese movies and shows that don't deal with glorified violence and death. In fact, it makes up the vast majority of Japanese media! Who would have thought! Your Name was the first major work of art to bridge some of the cultural animosity between China and Japan stemming from WW2, and is a goofy time travel love story. Perfect Days is a beautiful movie about the simple joy of living, and it's about the most Tokyo story you can get.

Please go out, read more, watch more. If you can, try and find your way to Japan. It's one of the most beautiful places on earth. The people are kind, the food is delicious, and the culture is very welcoming to foreigners.

2024's Shōgun was great, but please don't let that be the end. Let it be the beginning, and I hope it serves as a gateway for you.

And I hope our little fandom on here remembers this show as a special time, where we came together to talk about something we loved. I'll miss you all.

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noeou · 2 years

Text

THE ART OF AVOIDANCE.

the only way to get rid of a crush is by avoiding them, at least in your mind.

includes: vil schoenheit, idia shroud, and riddle rosehearts. ( x gn!reader. )

next parts: curently unavailable.

contains: fluff! platonic to romantic. open ended for idia and vil. ooc 'cause i said so.

sincerely noe ,⠀this takes up 8 pages in google docs 0.6k words minimum (each), lhm. i'm gonna go eat now. also a quick thank you to the person that answered this, you helped me pick the other two characters <3

vil schoenheit [ pomefiore ]

the main reason you and vil got along was because you could take criticism. that and the fact that you didn't take his long and (oddly) specific 'observations' to heart, but after a while it got hard to put up with.

no, your skin didn't get weaker. it was just the fact that the person you loved (debatable) and adored (also debatable) was constantly telling you your mishaps and it's impossible for it to not get to your head.

it felt that you couldn't tell anyone about your feelings 'cause you knew you'd get met with judgement on you 'type' and get told 'but you're yn, you can take it!' if you say you can no longer take his criticisms.

"Ace, hand me the glue gun please."

But you'd always have the duo and Grim. So that's where your time went instead of chasing the around house warden that probably didn't notice your absence.

"On it!" The red head turned from his project to hand you the glue gun.

"Are you guys almost done?" Deuce asked, pausing on his as well.

Grim jumped up excitedly, "Yeppers! Look at our super cool one!"

You chuckled as your companion showed off a mini doll version of him you both knitted.

"Mine's cooler!" Ace joined, except with his doll.

Their banter was interrupted with a knock on the door. Ace visibly paled, becoming nervous as he went to get the door.

"Warden Riddle, I swear it wasn't me!" You facepalmed at the sight of your friend. He didn't even look at who was at the door before he spewed apologies.

"I'm not Riddle..."

Apparently, you didn't check either. It was your turn to panic at the sight of the very person you tried (not that is was hard) to avoid.

vil didn't mean to criticize you to the point of scaring you away. all the little details he'd point out were things, most of the time, he admired about you. it was just impossible to say. people in his life would take the smallest compliment from him and twist it to fit their fantasy of him being in love with them or something to that affect.

he knew that repeating all those observations may affect how he thought of you so he did keep a journal, expressing the little things he felt too suffocated to say.

when epel suggested he may have scared you away, he was afraid the first year was right. that's why he went to go find you, not sending rook or epel but going himself. and his worse fears may have been confirmed.

Vil had no intention of forcing you to interact with him, he just intended to give you said journal and leaving. He wanted to leave the future of your relationship to you and he'd keep his distance until the decision was made.

He was willing to share thoughts and feelings he kept between him and the pages with you, a small hope that was put out by the sound of your laughing with the Heartslabyul two.

It took a minute, a foreign hesitance, before he knocked on the door.

The sudden silence made him even more anxious. Until it was filled with apologies addressed to the Crimson Tyrant, then he was simply confused.

He scanned the room for you, meeting not your eyes but a hand covering your face. Did you know it was him? Was he making a mistake?

You looked more comfortable as well. Your uniform was messed up, your hair was down. It was as if he was looking at a much younger version of you, a look of youth that he purposely had you hide.

"I'm not Riddle..." he managed, not looking away from you.

The mixed emotions on your face didn't go unnoticed, but he had no time to try and interpret them.

"Vil." Ace bowed again, not as deeply as he was a moment prior. The blue haired one stood as well, fists clenched and tied with a look of irritation.

"I mean no harm—"

"As if!" Vil nearly screamed why your cat-like companion jumped up onto Ace's head. "All you've done is harm! It's better for all of us if you leave now."

"Grim!" You pulled him off the redhead and pulled the other away. "We should talk."

The expression of surprise on the house warden's face was mirrored by your friends, only without his relief tied in as well.

"I would like that— if only if you're comfortable."

You led him out of the twisted Heartslabyul halls. Neither of you able to look at the other as you walked.

It was strange. Suddenly the roles were reversed and Vil was the one following you. He didn't mind it completely, but the anxiety of your next move was too great for him to think clearly.

Eventually, he was forced to speak.

"I've only come to deliver this to you," he handed you a hardcover book, magic sealing it.

The moment it made contact with your skin as you took it, the magic seemingly became void and you could open it. For a moment, a childlike curiosity took over as you examined it.

"But..."

You looked up, returning to reality.

You had no idea how to react as you watched Vil's mask so tightly sewn on break before you. The emotion made him unrecognizable, in a good way. For the first time in you knowing him, the Fairest of them all became personable.

Was it really possible for a perfect person to become more perfect?

"I've decided that waiting is something I don't want to do. I feel stupid for trying to tell you in any other way than face to face… but infatuation is something I rarely encounter, and I want you to know— I want you to know I like you. Like in that way.”

idia shroud [ ignihyde ]

you tried your hardest to be patient, knowing idia’s rocky relationship with human interaction. you made sure he was taking car of himself and had neat surroundings and as he got more and more comfortable with you, he’d help you out and join ortho and you when you’d visit.

getting to know him was not, at all, an easy feat. but it was fair to say it was worth it. you ended up falling for him, no? the hard thing about that is, you fell for a side of him he kept well hidden.

you knew pulling back and away would permanently damage your relationship to a point of no return, however staying knowing the potential would break you.

“Do what you think is right, Y/n.”

You and Ortho were collecting scraps to bring back to the dorm when you broke the news to him.

“Are you sure? I don’t want to hurt Idia—”

“As much as I care for my brother, I also care about you. If he truly is putting you through this, especially if he doesn’t know he is… I think you’d Gould put yourself first.”

It was times like this Ortho’s childlike form truly didn’t fit his maturity. You smiled at his words, nodding as your confidence grew in your decision.

“Thank you, I hope our friendship—”

Ortho used his shoes to propel him higher in the sky, high enough to pat your head. He grinned as he said, “Nothing will change between us, you’re like an older sibling to me!”

From that day forward, you continued things as they were only when Idia wasn’t around. Ortho was a big help in this, not forcing you to talk to his brother if you didn’t want, but not even he was able to predict the older’s every move.

idia knew something was up when your time on animal crossing increased as the amount he saw you decreased. you were never one to be interested in games as much as he, but he made you an account anyway and you played together sometimes.

he had a full proof plan, he'd log onto his computer like a facetime and confront you when you came to visit while he was out. however, you looked calmer, ignoring the evidence of lack of sleep in your eyes.

he decided to keep his mouth shut, watching you for a moment longer before hanging up.

Idia is not stupid, he was aware that the more time that passed would only mess up your relationship further. He needed to act quickly.

Locking himself in his room for a few days, he thought up a full proof plan to win you back but as more than friends. Double or nothing, as they say.

Staring at his hightech whiteboard, empty for hours at this point, nothing was happening. He frowned to himself, retreating to his gaming chair with an exasperated sigh escaping him.

He did as you'd do in a situation like this and logged on to animal crossing. If his assumptions were correct you wouldn't be able to log back on for a few hours now, logging onto your account he started working.

Back when you were still talking to him, you mentioned you wanted to build something that resembled the hade's underworld. You said it reminded you of something called 'Hadestown' and you showed his a few pictures so he had the idea.

So far it looked really good, he just planned on helping get you the necessary tools you need. Maybe it was the tiredness getting to him, but he made a pin, telling you it was him as well as all the things he also wanted to say.

Logging off, he went to take a nap without a second thought.

riddle rosehearts [ heartslabyul ]

the main reason you chose to distance yourself from riddle was actually because you thought he'd hate it if he found out you had feeling for him in that way. you were hoping, since it's exam week, that he'd be too busy preparing to notice you were gone and after this week your feeling will be gone and things could go back to normal.

it felt weird though, studying without him. normally study sessions would be productive, but with you carrying the team with the last two braincells… productive isn't the word i'd use.

considering how riddle is the housewarden of your bestfriends, you had to take them in when your plan started. while you trusted them to keep your secret, ace would most likely slip up in one way or another during a scolding.

It wasn't as bad as you thought having the two over, it was like a long sleepover. They had made makeshift beds on the floor out of fear of your (mostly) see through roommates.

Most of your time was spent attempting to study before the four of you inevitably gave up and headed to Sam's for ice cream to sulk about how you'd definitely fail. It was a cycle with seemingly no end.

"We can do this!" You pumped a fist in the air, the others beginning to match your energy.

Grim put on a look of determination, much like the other two. "We'll mop the floor with this!"

"Indeed we will."

And just like all your other attempts that week, you only ended up 'moping the floor' with your tears.

You werent sure how you got in this position, but you stared at Deuce's paper through glossy eyes at an attempt to understand the explanations he tried to provide. It was dark outside, cool in your room. A blanket was laid over the both of your laps and over Ace's face as he gave up long ago and took a nap on the Deuce's leg. Grim did the same, but rested on your head.

"I want Riddle back," You mumbled, the last of your frustration transferring into sadness. You wiped the threatening tears with the back of your hand.

Deuce let out a sigh, trying to think of what to say. "Maybe we can get someone else's help?"

"Like who?" You sat up, pulling your companion down from his resting place above you.

"Az–"

"Don't mess with me, Deuce. We both know how that'll end."

"Or you could ask me as you usually do."

in the beginning, riddle thought that you, ace and deuce were up to something when you went missing at the same time. there wasn't much he could do about it with his schedule. don't be mistaken he didn't forget about you.

normally around this time he'd be pulling all nighters with you, feeling frustrated at your slowness, but still trying his best to stay calm. he missed that, not the lack of sleep, but having an excuse to be with you without having to initiate it. it was a mutually understood (?) thing.

no, he didn't ask questions until those days turned into the majority of the week. during a sudy session with trey and cater, they pointed out how he should at least message you, because even they were getting worried. he sent you a quick message that turned into two, then three, and four.

Riddle isn't one to appreciate interruptions, especially when studying so it was surprising how irritated at a lack thereof.

"Where are you going?" Cater watched him, curiously.

In one moment, Riddle was sitting working somewhat peacefully and the next he was fuming out the door. He thought of the worst case scenarios, you were never one to ignore messages; he also couldn't get ahold of his freshmen (though that was that out of the ordinary.)

A shiver was sent down his spine upon entering the cool place. It was also possible it was because he walked in on three ghosts playing cards.

"Are you looking for your lovely?" the smallest one asked.

"Y/n! Your boyfri–"

"Refrain from that." Riddle addressed the biggest one. He patted his uniform, calming himself. "They're upstairs?"

"Who's asking?" The slim one dragged.

The smallest floated up to whack the other's nonexistent head, "Y/n's husband, obviously!"

"Wait they got married?"

"No!" Riddle headed for the stairs, deciding not to waste a moment more on them.

In their laughter, one managed to warn, "Knock! The youngins' are hard at work up there."

Riddle wanted to make sure you three were at least alive and not wanted criminals, the first confirmed at the sound of your voices. He wanted to scold each of you for scaring him, but the mention of his name made him stop and listen.

"I want Riddle back," You sounded weak, and low on energy. It wasn't something he wasn't used to, but knowing he wasn't there to help in the ways he was able.

Deuce let out a sigh, "Maybe we can get someone else's help?"

No, why weren't you going to him?

"Like who?" He heard shuffling in the room, pressing his ear to the wooden door to hear better.

"Az–"

"Don't mess with me, Deuce. We both know how that'll end."

Unable to listen to you foolishness for a moment longer, he made his grand entrance. He wasn't sure if he was angry or sad, but looking at your tear stained face made him concerned.

"Or you could ask me as you usually do." He managed, taking in your conditions.

"Housewarden!" Deuce tried to shake his redheaded counterpart awake but stopped at Riddle's command.

"Do not bother, I'm here for Y/n. You get some rest, as well, we can review tomorrow. I'll return them safely." Riddle looked to you, who didn't return his gaze.

He let out a sigh of relief as you got up and collected yourself– "wait for me downstairs."

That he did, awkwardly being examined by the three transparent elders.

"Win 'em back, alrightie?"

"Yeah! It's been a snotfest without ya', a pain really."

"Mhm, they're not all that bright."

In sync they laughed, in sync they stopped. Looking at him again, they disappeared into puffs of smoke and reappeared the same way around him.

"Break their heart again and I'll request that you join us in a game of cards."

"And we've been playing for a while…"

"I wasn't planning on it!" Riddle face felt much warmer at the thought of doing so.

"Guys, leave him alone." You groaned, groggily.

He led you outside and you found a seat on a cut down tree's trunk. Patting the space next to you, he joined you.

"Why are you here?"

"Why are you not talking to me?"

More awkwardness ensued when you both said that at the same time. He looked at you, again not meeting his eyes.

"'Cause you'll hate me. Banish me even," The lack of sleep was talking.

"Banish you from where?" He asked, confused.

"Heartslabyul… and here," – you pointed at the spot on his chest his heart would be– "Because I think you're adorable and smart and amusing and so many other things. And because I like you, but I don't think you'd like that, would you?"

His expression changed to one of more surprise, his lips tugging upward only for the keenest of eyes to notice. Looking down at the landscape before him, with another relieved breath, "And what if I would?"

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