#hash was galaxy brained for this

[ofoceansandtombsanew]

Self-Shippin' with Nyla

because black girls self-ship too and i wanna be more self-indulgent on main. completely unoriginal masterlist idea i got from the homie @hash-slinging-slasher-trash.

self-ship tag gen

🔥🦪Flaming Pearls

Portgas D. Ace

🧣🛡️Soft Armor

Mikasa Ackerman

🩵💙Blues

Gojou Satoru (Moon & Sea | Cloak & Shadow)

🌻🍅Sunflowers & Tomatoes

Umemiya Hajime

✨🍁Sparkling Leaves

Tamarack Baumann

[diagoose]

design scribbles!

I mentioned that I wanted to redesign Saerdis for a while now, which is tricky since Saerdis has a very specific look(tm), and I do no know what that look(tm) is, my brain is refusing to tell me. but, i've been playing around with a lot of ideas, and I think i'm settling into something I like for her.

Also! this was a very good time to try and hash out a design for her sister Sylanth(who belongs to @mockiery), beautiful Aasimar drow lady with galaxy aesthetic, we love herrrrr.

i'm gonna be doing some more pickings at these designs, my goal is to do full drawing for them. I am absolutely procrastinating doing it, because i need to also design Saerdis's wheelchair, and gooooddd I am not good at drawing props, and her cool magic wheelchair intimidates meeeee(i must do it justice).

[pentacass]

Please tell me all about Aelirra and Ves, how do they get along at first, how does Ves feel about finally meeting the woman that Lana <strike>left her for</strike> left her to go hunting across the galaxy for for years, how badly does Aelirra's goodness get on her nerves, how does Aelirra react to Ves/Darth Avriss's dramatics, please tell me this and more I must KNOW

our inky boi rolled up locked and loaded 🔫🔫 thenk <3

I'll touch on all these in fic hopefully but as always, nothing stops brain from going BRRRR

How do they get along at first - It's strictly professional. Ves recognises that, though she'd been key to the Alliance's creation, Ael is its Commander. The face of the Alliance that attracts most recruits. She treats Ael...politely (if very frigidly). Ael returns it with geniune warmth, patience, and an openness that makes Ves want to chew on rusted nails.

After some time, due to clashes in methods and beliefs, they'll butt heads more often. Ves argues, and argues, and argues - until one day (which kinda terrified everyone else), Ael snaps back at Ves in her first display of temper. Unfortunately, Ael's temper only delights Ves (i think she kinda fell in love tbh), and she keeps pushing Ael, whose restraint with Ves gets thinner and thinner, until they're barking in each other's faces.

That said, every storm comes to an end. They'll find common ground, learn from each other, and work in a way that accommodates them both. Even though they don't stop bickering and trying to shove each other into the dumpster. Yes, it's all Vestra's fault, and yes, Ael plays along cos she comes to enjoy it.

By the time they become friends, Lana's already floating face-down in the sea from watching her two besties fight all the time.

How does Ves feel about finally meeting the woman that Lana left her for left her to go hunting across the galaxy for for years - 'This is it? A golden retriever?? Lana, what the fuck??? What are you gonna do, ask her to fetch the sanity you obviously lost when you chose to LEAVE ME TO LOOK FOR HER?????'

She felt underwhelmed. She'd heard much of the Jedi Battlemaster who brought down the Emperor's Voice, then Revan on Yavin. She'd expected some equivalent of the Wrath, who radiated malicious potency in the Force from every pore.

Ael is the exact opposite of the Wrath, and much more subtle. Though her strength with the Force can't be denied, it is comparable to Vestra's own. All she saw was a Jedi, too calm, too detached from a galaxy that had suffered in the five years she'd spent locked away in carbonite. [We'll touch on this in fic soon! In um. The next...third chapter. ahahahha bye]

Then Ves sees Ael in battle, the unstoppable force that shatters Zakuulan shields, bright blue blades flashing as a beacon of hope in battle, and she understands Lana's judgement. If only part of it.

How badly does Aelirra's goodness get on her nerves - Let's just say it's a miracle that Ves' hands never find their way to Ael's neck.

Ves is immensely annoyed by Ael's determination to go out of her way to help everyone, to minimise collateral damage. She's even more annoyed when Ael manages to make it work, without compromising mission objectives.

We can psychoanalyse the hell out of Ves and her annoyance here, but tl;dr, she hates how Ael keeps proving her wrong and, on a deeper level, shows how Ves could achieve the same, without the brutality she'd internalised as Sith.

How does Aelirra react to Ves/Darth Avriss's dramatics

At first: calm, reasonable, accommodating. 'Let me understand you, Avriss, so that I can help you.'

Later, when they're friends: shut up shut up i'm so tired of your bullshit and your entire face

Although Ael does get angry and argue with Ves on occasion, she never cuts off all possibility of communication. After their clashes, Ves is always free to talk to Ael in private (which she never does). If she has the time, Ael will look for Ves and try to hash it out.

It's really because of Ael that they even have that first bit of understanding for each other. She manages to wear Ves down to the point where even Darth Avriss goes 'ok FINE we'll talk, if it gets you OFF MY DAMN BACK'.

[godraet]

ok ok i DO have to address what the fuck demise is and also how demise became ganondorf and also what the fuck is ganon, so buckle up this is going to be ... a blend of mythology ride :) also this stems from more conversations with @perditos about literally everything because i guess we are just going to galaxy brain everything together now (which is honestly so valid)

so, ok, the short version is demise is both angra mainyu all the world's evils and hades at the SAME TIME, this is not at all to say that hades is an evil entity because he is very much NOT, but demise is a very funky blend and this is about demise.

the longer version is as follows.

so basically way back when like EONS ago when the three goddesses were making the entire everything, there were of course other gods both great and minor that existed. of these great gods, demise was one of them. after hashing things out however gods do, demise was given "the world buried in the earth" as his domain, where he ruled absolute. in modern days, his realm is called the realm of the dead, and the reason demise was ok with this is because he knew that eventually everyone would belong to his kingdom and he would in fact rule everything, and for real he was power hungry from the start. but not inherently evil.

the war between demise and his forces and hylia and her forces didn't start immediately- in fact, demise quite liked hylia, in the same way that hades likes persephone but a little to the left. demise wanted to have hylia as his own, and he went about it in a really weird not good way. demise made his attempts at courting hylia, of trying to bring her to his kingdom, where the light came from distant stars rather than the sun, where there was no more suffering, because all pains of life had been relinquished to death- but in this, it also meant that the joys of life had also been relinquished, and in the end that is still rather tragic. and things didn't work well.

in that same vein, the literal god of death trying to explore the land of the living just brought A LOT OF DEATH! who would've guessed! and demise was branded an evil born of the heart of the planet, and things just kept getting worse. so the war happens and demise and hylia engage in battle and by this point, demise has decided he ISN'T going to wait for everything to eventually die and to be the king of everything, he's just going to take things while they're still ALIVE and that's literally not what the agreement was at all, so literally No One wanted that (except demise, and even then, that's complicated and will be addressed a little later in this post)

demise unleashes his spirit warriors on the land of the living and literally the only thing that can be done is to seal this shit away because you can't kill what's already dead. but sealing demise isn't an easy task, he's one of the great gods, although eventually he would come to be known as "the calamity" (where the angra mainyu all the worlds evils comes in)- anyway demise decides that since hylia is opposing him, if he kills her then she can't oppose him because by what the gods hashed out, he is ruler absolute of all that exists in the realm of the dead. also he thought that maybe if he killed her he'd finally have her for himself because also she would be part of his domain WELL that also didn't go to plan at all. demise killed hylia and shit just didn't ... uh. it didn't work like that. because of course it didn't.

hylia enters the cycle of being born mortal. as far as demise knows, she continues to reincarnate- because where her blood exists, her vibes exist, and also she exists in the life of the land and is always there to oppose him so he makes the ASSUMPTION that any time he encounters hylia's blood, it must be hylia herself, even if that's NOT true- and for a while, he continued to just demolish things as a god until he decided on a completely different tactic, because huh maybe he could do this if he followed what he thinks hylia did, and enters the cycle of reincarnation.

( for note, the body of the god still sits on the throne in the kingdom of the dead, and he isn't dead at all, but what sits there is essentially an empty shell, because demise threw his own power into the reincarnation cycle. this is where the reincarnation of ganondorf comes in. )

it's just like a power hungry deity to pick a powerful race to be born into, so he picks the gerudo, because they're badass and also don't care about gender norms and that's also a deity move right there. so every 100 years, the stars align or some shit and a child is born and that child is demise. to the gerudo, the child is king of kings by birth. and no, the child isn't always male gods don't care about that, but for some reason the child always grows into the role of ganondorf dragmire no matter what name they start with. oh, and the super fun part is each incarnation continues to remember the past lives, so that's really great isn't it!

also the fact that this cycle happens every 100 years means that the god avatar doesn't live that long, because it isn't like a cycle of the new one is born when the old one dies. the oldest king of kings was a man at the ripe old age of 54 when he was slain on the battlefield. the youngest was an overeager nonbinary individual of seventeen, eager to prove themselves by rushing headfirst to fight the hero in their maiden battle.

by the time where ganondorf comes to uhhh yeet rauru (or attempt to), there still have been plenty of reincarnation cycles before, and he has all of those memories under his belt so he knows that he can't just use the same goddamn tactics to get what he wants- he learns from his mistakes in a way, but doesn't seem to learn that UHHHH he is not going to have hyrule basically Ever, thanks- but anyway he's a hero of his people and a legendary warrior and he's 35, but he fights like someone who has thousands of years of experience and it's because he DOES!!! and he's well aware of the power he holds, that he doesn't need a sacred stone to amplify it, but as demise, he can't help but be tempted anyway.

it's this insatiable hunger for MORE POWER that eventually creates ganon, which is essentially the divine power overwhelming the confinement of the "mortal" body. this entity often takes the form of a massive wild boar, like in the princess mononoke demon boar vibe but like now bass-boost that by 100, but sometimes it takes the form of a dragon. but, since ganon is a manifestation of raw power, it can't function without having a vessel- which means yes! ganondorf is essentially used as the heart of a primordial power, and to stop ganon, the hero has to find a way to kill ganondorf who exists deep within the equivalent of like a solar storm. it's NOT easy, which is why the hero has courage lmao.

it IS possible to stop ganon without killing ganondorf, but that means letting ganon rampage until ganondorf has burnt off the overloaded power, or trying to reason with him- which uh. neither of those are really ... options that anyone thinks of in the moment. it's easier if he's caught in the early stages of the transformation, because he does have ways of just letting out excess divine power that aren't like. world crushing, that's literally why he's also a sorcerer on top of being a warrior. anyway uhhh yeah that's the ... not so brief overview of this mess thanks for coming to my tedtalk

[boringoldtez]

Rust and Acid and Purple Hash

Pxlshrd's Visual Odyssey of Interconnected Realms

What strikes me as most remarkable in Pxlshrd's portfolio of generative artworks is his use of colours. The unusual palettes that the artist introduced in Breeding Grounds, Blockaden and asunder explore the profound impact that colours can have on our perception and emotions, and the recurring combinations of muted tones and unexpected accents in Pxlshrd's work unveil a unique visual language. When thinking of my associations with the artist's images, I come up with ideas of rust, acid, and lilac that I could not help but visualize with the help of AI.

The thematic undercurrent is 'the notion that all elements within the cosmos are interconnected and organized into smaller networks with parallel functions'. This idea resonates deeply with the artist's body of work, and his art pulsates with a palpable fascination for astronomy, biology and science-fiction that is inviting viewers on a journey through these realms, connecting them by an overarching concept and style.

The narrative spans 'from the neuronal circuitry of the human brain to the vast expanses of the cosmos', as shown in the microscopic musings of Limbic Vortex and in the macroscopic reveries of Breeding Grounds, making these two artworks pivotal points of this connection.

Microcosmic Musings: Limbic Vortex

The recent masterpiece Limbic Vortex stunned me with the variety of its outputs and the stylistic cohesion between the iterations. Pxlshrd prepared a detailed fx(text) article about it that I definitely recommend you to read to get an idea of the depth of this work: Mapping the connections of Limbic Vortex

In the development of the project, the artist drew technical inspiration and colour palettes from his earlier asunder and Blockaden, and thus further connects the individual artworks of his portfolio.

Spread across 298 parametric and minter–curated abstract images, we find dissolving wave functions, irregular grids of skewed, pixellated lines, and radiant explosions of colours. The foundation of parameters that Pxlshrd has provided the minters with would easily have allowed for twice the collection size, and I cannot help but wonder what beauties we might have seen with more iterations. Pxlshrd managed to tune the algorithm to find a balance between precision and chaotic beauty, resulting in a visual style that seamlessly merges technical enthusiasm with unrestrained artistic expression.

To get an idea of the beauty of this artwork, you can take a look at a gallery with my favourites from the project that I put on deca.art: Limbic Vortex

Within the microcosmic realm of the brain's neuronal circuitry, Limbic Vortex focusses on the limbic system—the part of the human brain that is considered to be the location of emotions and the gateway to our memories. The artist's use of colour palettes named after neurotransmitters reflects this function of the transmission of messages, echoing the intricate connections that shape our thoughts, emotions, and actions. The use of visual elements from Breeding Grounds, like the clusters of lines that converge at specific nodes on the canvas, and the utilization of some of its colour palettes, further emphasizes the link between Pxlshrd's artworks, and can be seen as a transfer of memories between these projects.

Macroscopic Reverie: Breeding Grounds

Standing on the other end of the cosmological scale from Limbic Vortex is Breeding Grounds. It offers a wide lens through which to perceive the interconnectedness of all things and was released more than a year before Limbic Vortex. It 'is inspired by the assumption that both the brain and the cosmic web are very similar in structural design' and makes comparisons between the human brain, social networks, galaxy clusters, and the universe itself. It is aptly considered to be an icon of generative art and part of the TENDER icon list.

Visually, the images from Breeding Grounds revolve around polygon cores that are connected by networks of trails. Visibility and density of these connections are varied between iterations, and the amazing and creatively named colour palettes make this work of art stand out among others. The resulting outputs radiate a noisy, digital sense of indeterminacy and ambiguity of scale that reminds me of both sub–atomic probability clouds and of cosmic structures and webs. Considering the project's inspiration, this is an outstanding artistic achievement.

In between these two cornerstones of Pxlshrd's greater narrative, we find artworks like acid memories, Blockaden, Indistinct Places or asunder, all relevant and beautiful on their own.

Techno–organic Marvel: acid memories

acid memories offers a wide variety of visual motifs. Each iteration within this project presents a multitude of interpretations, with elements reminiscent of bacteria, carpets, circuit boards, satellite pictures, and more. The artist skillfully combines rigid and technical structures with fluid and organic forms, resulting in visuals that can evoke floral patterns or furry textures.

The images with the unique solo trait reveal how the outputs are composed of small blobs that are otherwise only obvious when we zoom in on them.

The additional element of continued drawing makes the iterations take on quite new aesthetics. My favourite one is #24 that could be seen to depict a bacterium surrounded by platelets that becomes engulfed in fibrin fibers (to see this, open the artwork in live view and press D).

Crumpled Landscapes: Blockaden and Indistinct Places

Blockaden was released between the artist's wild and abstract acid memories and his enthusiastically received, quasi-representational Indistinct Places.

The chronological neighborhood shows visually: we find a similar use of colours in both, and the varied outputs of Blockaden display both the rich textures of its precursor acid memories and the torn, ethereal landscapes of Indistinct Places that came after it. My favourite pieces of Blockaden are the ones that remind me of crumpled maps.

In Indistinct Places, we get to see more of these as the artist explores the welcoming land of warm confusion that lies behind the brief moment of contend disorientation that we go through when falling asleep. Rough or smooth, vivid or muted, the landscapes we get to see are as varied as the dreams they might be a prelude to, and in their style, some remind me of @_NatSarkissian's and @tender_art/@ajberni's Reconnaissance.

Order and Dissolution: asunder

asunder breaks away from traditional structures and perspective in a unique way. It varies the level of order in each iteration, resulting in some images that appear organized and others that seem to dissolve. The familiar palettes used in the artwork reflect the artist's signature style, yet the addition of a tone resembling the colour of old parchment and wavering outlines create a tangible and nostalgic look.

The Swarm of Olfactory Earthworms is Departing from Habitable Zones

While the artworks I have covered above are stations on the artistic journey that Pxlshrd set out on with Breeding Grounds, his earlier artworks are not to be neglected. Especially swarm charmer and Sketches of the Departure are my personal favourites, and I really recommend you to check them out.

After revisiting most of Pxlshrd's work, I can't help but say that I am even more excited about it than before. I hope that some of my enthusiasm fell on fertile ground.

[nako-doodles]

check in tag 😌

tagged by the cutest babes @jaehyukkies @gimbapchefs @taesjpg @joenns @honsool @taehyungq @himbojin @jiminswn & @kimtaegis  mwah! ✨✨

1. Why did you choose your url?

namjoon bought a duck mold, ventured out into a snowy day in winter, and gave me the greatest tweet i have ever seen

2. Any sideblogs? If you have them name them and why you have them

the day i gain the ability to wrangle more than one blog ill let yall know

3. How long have you’ve been on tumblr?

*starts calculating time furiously and almost burns out her single braincell* ive been here since like freshman year high school.....so............2010? 2011? ive deleted and restarted like 3 times tho so.........also you can calculate my exact age now (as if I dont have my age on my carrd aiowgjiorajgo)

4. Do you have a queue tag?

no we dont tag we just chaos in this house *finger guns*

5. Why did you start your blog in the first place?

i took a break from tumblr and kpop and then decided I wanted to make a bts blog out of the blue

6. Why did you choose your icon?

i drew all these tiny snow ducks i might as well capitalize on them yknow? really embrace my duck persona (Kim Namjoon witness the person you have made me)

7. Why did you choose your header?

honestly my entire blog brand at this point can be narrowed down to the hour ish (probably) joon spent wrangling snow into duck molds, placing them together for the twt, and captioning them ducktan sonyeondan (im on the look out for new ideas im ready for a change lmk if you have ideas 🥰)

8. What’s your post with the most notes?

i think its this post?? of the babies on rollerblades from that one iconic dynamite stage. and on that note tumblr should be able to let me filter based on note count instead of forcing me to rely one my shoddy terrible no good math skills. asking me to compare numbers bigger than 0? despicable. 

9. How many mutuals do you have?

absolutely no fucking clue 🥰🥰🥰 i do love them to the moon (Kim Seokjin) and back tho!!!!

10. How many followers do you have?

ngl its still wild for me that even one of yall follow me thank you 🥺🥺🥺 its a great honor that you have bestowed upon me

11. How many people do you follow?

303 bc I like it when numbers are palindromes and also bc im bad at checking new blogs

12. Have you ever made a shitpost?

would like you to direct you to my #shirley you cant be serious.txt tag

13. How often do you use tumblr each day?

i try my best to “clean out” my blog (reply to my dms/askbbox, check out my mentions, scroll for new content i may have missed etc.) in the mornings and evenings when i have the time. ive been kinda bad at this lately bc its been hectic here in shirley headquarters but ill get to everyone soon I promise!! (this sounds like bad. its not!!! its just that leaving things stresses me out? like how i like replying to texts as soon as i see them or reply emails as fast as i can. ‘unresolved’ correspondence feels rude.)

14. Did you have a fight/argument with another blog once? Who won?

no im the type to unfollow/block/ignore if someone did or said something i dont agree with without a word

15. How do you feel about “you need to reblog this” posts?

i get the need for those signal boost posts and promulgating important information but (and this is going to sound selfish) tumblr is my destress zone. i go here when the world is being overwhelming and terrible. i certainly read and educate myself as much as my mental health will let me, and i try my best to promote information and donate whenever i can, but i feel like social media has caused some people here to be too into canceling, managing, and being performative in their ‘wokeness.’ like you HAVE to have a blackout pic on instagram and you HAVE to reblog all these posts and you HAVE to immediately cancel everyone who has ever made a mistake EVER with no nuance or context (or dare i say......humanity). like fighting for human rights and speaking up again racism and bringing attention to societal problems is just a checklist to go down instead of being things you should understand and try to improve? like being ‘unproblematic’ starts and ends with mindlessly reblogging ‘woke’ content. idk sorry for going on a rant. going back to your regularly scheduled lighthearted content in 3...2...1

16. Do you like tag games?

ABSOLUTELY TAG ME IN EVERYTHING PLS AND THANK MWAH

17. Do you like ask games?

ofc!!! i used to do a lot of ask games back in the day but work and the pixel art ive been working on has been eating up all my extra time (and i always feel bad if I leave asks unanswered for too long see: q. 13) i do have that clover moots post saved for when my mental health is up and i have the time to tho!!!! 

18. Which of your mutuals do you think is tumblr famous?

ngl the idea of being tumblr famous is hilarious to me bc it usually just the same 10 moots who share a braincell bouncing posts back and forth each other, but i do think all my moots are superstars that even class o super giants millions of millions of miles away are turning green w envy 🥰🥰🥰

19. Do I have a crush on a mutual?

i have a confession i have to make........i have a big phat standing crush on all my moots........its really embarassing............thats its bigger than even tae’s tush or joon’s tits..................pls let me down gently if you dont feel the same................

tagging: @cafejoon @stargazingjin @yoobijin @jinbestboy @jintae @jinv @taemaknae @butterful & anyone who wants to ✨✨

[trainsinanime]

Black Widow vs James Bond

A while ago I mused about writing this post, and then someone (I think @into-september ) told me they’d like to read it, so… I promptly forgot. But here it is now: A comparison of the movie “Black Widow” versus the James Bond franchise, and why I think Black Widow is the best James Bond movie lately, despite not technically being one.

First a quick summary of Black Widow, with full spoilers obviously: We start in 1995 in Ohio, where Natasha Romanoff is like fifteen years old. She lives with two older spies, who act like her parents, and a younger spy (Yelena), who acts like her sister, all deep undercover. Then her parent spies steal some secret intel and they all escape.

Then over a period of many years Natasha and Yelena are tortured and brainwashed by the Red Room into super spies. Natasha eventually escapes and becomes the token girl of the Avengers.

The movie proper starts when Yelena receives some anti-mind-control gas, turns good, and after some back and forth, she and Natasha team up to free all of the other mind-controlled assassins like them, together with the spies that formerly acted as their parents.

The whole story involves betrayals, magic face masks, people giving themselves brain damage on purpose, comic weirdness and some scenes that feel like they were stolen from video game cinematics.

The basic themes of the movie, though, are that Natasha must learn to accept that their spy unit was not just a spy unit, it was a family, even if it was slightly dysfunctional, while the other members of her family must learn to accept that what they were doing to Natasha and Yelena was wrong and apologise for it.

All in all, good movie, but not overwhelming in any regards. Not even the best Marvel movie where the main character must process their childhood trauma and come to a new understanding of what their family means, with all the good and bad (that would have been Guardians of the Galaxy Volume 2). It also has relatively little of the "that just happened" style of humour that everybody here pretends to hate even though we know it is the peak of comedy and love it. It is well known for that one scene where Natasha and Yelena are sitting in a bar trying to hash out their childhood traumas, which was shot entirely in front of a green screen for some reason (the most popular theory being that the carpenters who build the sets are union labourers, but VFX artists are not).

So, this doesn't sound a lot like James Bond, and in fact, it isn't, which is probably a huge part of why it's good. However, visually and structurally, the movie lives deep in Bond territory. The specific point of comparison I'm going to keep coming back to is Goldeneye.

The plot of that movie is that at the start, James Bond (played by Pierce Brosnan) and Sean Bean are on a secret mission for England on top of some Soviet dam. They get caught, James makes it out, Sean Bean is  captured and we believe shot. After an opening sequence with one of the best James Bond theme songs of all time, it's nine years later, the Soviet Union is gone, and James Bond tries to prevent Famke Janssen from stealing an attack helicopter but fails. His investigation leads him to Saint Petersburg and to the Russian general who shot Sean Bean. He discovers that Sean Bean is actually alive and is masterminding the whole plot, leading to a showdown on Cuba, while a 1990s computer hacking subplot is going on in the background. Easily one of the most coherent and most character driven Bond movies, but also with some great humour and action sequences, it remains one of my favourite Bond movies of all time.

Plot wise, there is not a lot of similarity, but in terms of style and themes, it's actually fairly close.

For example, the time skip where Natasha and Yelena are tortured and turned into super-spy assassins is a proper title sequence, just like James Bond does, together with a title song. It's a slow cover of Smells Like Teen Spirit, which is okay, but can't hold a candle to Tina Turner. It's not even the best Bond-style opening on a Marvel movie; that honour goes to Celine Dion in Deadpool 2.

The action sequences in Black Widow are very much Bond style, with a focus on hand-to-hand combat and awesome vehicle chase scenes through beautiful eastern European cities (Saint Petersburg in Goldeneye, Budapest here). Both also feature crumbling soviet infrastructure with the odd remaining pieces of grandeur as crucial locations. And both movies feature obvious bordering on obnoxious product placement by BMW.

The end gets a bit silly in Black Widow, but then, in Goldeneye, Sean Bean got dropped into the Arecibo Telescope (RIP) and the plot does involve an evil satellite, so it's more a difference in what the movie could afford than in what it wanted to do.

Both movies have a style that is a similar blend of serious and funny, with Black Widow being slightly more serious, but only slightly. There is still enough of the great "well that happened" or quippy style of humour that everybody keeps pretending, even though they secretly love it. (Yes, I am serious: There are problems with the MCU, but this style of humour is not one of them, and I will die on this hill.) And that is a style of humour that has always been in a similar ballpark to where James Bond lives.

Thematically, both deal with the end of the Cold War, and the main antagonist is a general who is disappointed with the modern world where he is no longer in power. You might think that wouldn't make sense in Black Widow considering that even its backstory is very firmly set in 1995, after the Cold War ended in real life. And indeed, it doesn't, if you think about it, but the movie kind of skips over that part and hopes you won't notice.

And in case all that isn't enough, Black Widow specifically goes out of its way and personally asks you to compare it to James Bond, by having Natasha watch Moonraker at one point during the story.

So what are the differences? Weirdly enough, the fact that Natasha worked for the Russians while Bond is British is not really a crucial one. Natasha definitely has a different perspective than Bond, but that doesn't really matter because Bond doesn't have much of a perspective on anything himself, other than friends, enemies and love interests.

Really, that is the main crucial thing: Personality. Bond really doesn't have any personality. He's more here to be a tour guide through the movie, showing us all the cool stuff that the production team came up with this time. They try to make him a character at times, and Goldeneye, with the crucial relationship with Sean Bean, is certainly one of the better and more realised examples of the Bond movies, especially of the Brosnan era. However, Black Widow and in fact the entire MCU are on a whole other level. While I'm not the biggest fan of every single MCU character, all of them have way more backstory, character flaws and just plain humanity than even the best version of James Bond (which might just be Pierce Brosnan in Goldeneye, largely because Sean Bean helps a lot).

This sounds like I'm down on James Bond, and… well, yeah. I like the Bond movies, but I'm never going to say they're actually any good. They are mindless childish fun, and that's what I love them for, but it really doesn't go beyond that. It can be very interesting to hear people discuss what these movies say about the society that made them. But James Bond as a concept is just too limited to tell really deep stories. The MCU is playing in the exact same sort of space, and its characters, relationships and plots are not always great masterpieces, but it is always leaps and bounds above James Bond.

This takes a lot of different forms in this movie. The first and biggest is Natasha herself. She is a fully formed character with a past full of regrets and things that she needs to work through.

That's kind of a basic bar to clear, but James Bond doesn't really have that. Seeing Sean Bean get shot in the cold open is not really a big regret, just a thing he thought was not good. There is no character arc for him, nothing to overcome. Once he knows Sean Bean is alive he also immediately knows that he's bad guy who must be stopped, and he immediately tries his best at that, until he finally succeeds. He has learned nothing and hasn't changed as a character, but he did have fun doing that.

The other big thing is that this is a story about family, and it really works. Here we have to depart Goldeneye for a moment, because James Bond there has no past and no family. But then we got this big slate of movies where the main character suddenly had daddy issues, including Star Trek, the Andrew Garfield Spiderman movies or that last Jason Bourne movie. The James Bond franchise, dedicated to avoiding original thoughts as it was, followed suit. It also introduced a brother and a complicated relationship with an adoptive father back in Spectre, and, uh, it sucked.

The thing is that it introduced a family for James Bond, but it was never about the family. Going "Christoph Waltz is your brother actually" was there to shock us, not to give anything more depth or motivate the story further. Bond and Waltz's relationship was a strictly professional one between government assassin and slightly too obsessed gay coded villain. It didn't change, it didn't reveal anything, and it wasn't meaningful. If Waltz had instead been the shop owner of James Bond's favourite Aston Martin dealership, it would have had exactly the same impact.

Later, in No Time To Die, James Bond has a relationship with a woman, then splits from her when she won't tell him her terrible secret (she met a weird guy once; it's unclear why she won't tell him that, but he's still an asshole about it either way). Later they meet again and he learns that he has a little daughter who only speaks french.

In that movie, that new family serves as a motivating factor, but that's about it. His relationship with either his girlfriend or his daughter doesn't really develop in any meaningful way.

Black Widow is firmly a family story first, where Natasha must learn to accept that her fake family was actually real to her, while the other members of this family must understand how much they hurt each other. And it does that really well. Many of the most meaningful scenes are characters talking about their past with each other; not to reveal shocking new twists and turns, but to get to know each other, reconnect, and decontextualise their memories until they can finally forgive each other. It just works.

(Aside: What is missing from Black Widow is any sort of love interest, unlike James Bond. I think that makes sense, having a love interest would undercut the story and it's completely unnecessary. But it is notable how relatively sex-less the Marvel movies are in general, compared to Bond. I'm not saying it's good or bad, it's just notable that Marvel is part of what seems to be a general trend here.)

So, these are a lot of words, but I feel like I already said the most relevant conclusion at the top: Black Widow is the best James Bond movie because it's not a James Bond movie. Not in the sense that James Bond isn't in it, that's actually rather secondary. It is structurally a completely different, more interesting and deeper movie (relatively speaking) that wears the style of James Bond as a fancy coat. And that turns out to be a combination that works really well.

[nevertheless-moving]

Suicidal Misunderstanding Part Three: SW Time Travel AU #27

Part One

Part Two

Obi Wan woke with a dry mouth and a moderate headache. A fairly typical morning these days. 

He peered around his bedroom in the temple confused. Wasn’t he just with Cody? Shouldn’t he be on the Negotiator? No wait, the war was over, Cody tried to kill him, and the Negotiator was a part of the Imperial Armada, of course he wouldn’t be there. He closed his eyes, snuggling back under the covers. Before he could drift back to sleep, his sluggish mind processed that last thought. 

He BOLTED upright in bed. The temple had been razed, his personal chambers scorched with particular thoroughness. Just being on Coruscant was an automatic death sentence. Faint tendrils of panic began to curl around his throat before he remembered his decision to give Spice a try. He had reasoned that he should probably find at least one pleasure in his new life, instead of focusing incessantly on what was lost. 

So what if he lost a few brain cells? Good riddance. 

Obi-Wan had been a bit nervous, but this had ended up being his best decision in years. His goodbye to Cody had been painful, but deeply cathartic. Spice Hallucination Anakin didn’t scream like Nightmare Anakin, and the color of his eyes was perfect. Far better final memories to cling to than reality- a reminder of the good times. Comforted, he relaxed backwards in bed, pulling his blankets back around him.

He LURCHED out of bed, covers tossed aside, movement a blur.

He was still hallucinating?!? Spice shouldn’t last in the system this long! He might’ve been uncertain about whether he was supposed to smoke or snort the substance but it was a well known fact that its exhaustive but rapid passage through the body was half what made it so addictive. If nothing else, his well-restedness and thirst indicated it had been at least six hours. He looked frantically around the room, searching for some thread of unreality to pull at.

This...was not good. Hadn’t the subconscious manifestations of his friends mentioned drugs that interacted poorly with force users last night? He had dismissed it at the time but...

He clearly was stuck in some sort of drugged fantasy combined with force-enhanced memory recall. Kriff, he had to wake up in the real world before he died of an aneurysm. Or just dehydration.

He sat on the ‘temple floor’ to meditate. This could be tricky as he couldn’t risk lowering his outer shields to reach out to reality. It would be deeply embarrassing as well as horrifying if the Emperor managed to find him and, by extension, Luke because he got stuck in a bad spice trip.

The door to his room clicked open quietly. 

“Oh! You’re awake. Sorry to come in without knocking, Master. I wanted to let you sleep, but I’ve been checking on you every two hours to make sure you were still, you know, breathing. You were...pretty out of it last night and I would be a pretty bad ‘best friend in the whole galaxy’ if I let you choke on your own vomit, right?” His blue-eyed Padawan explained with a grin.

Obi-Wan just stared. Oh this- this hurt. It was easier last night, when the whole fantasy had a kind of drunken blurriness. Sleeping and waking had brought sober clarity to the dream world. He could see the bags under Anakin’s eyes as well as the sheepish slouch of his shoulders as he instinctively ducked at the door frame. It was just so real.

“Obi-Wan? Are you feeling ok? Do you still feel drunk?” Anakin asked concerned.

Obi-Wan shook his head. He hesitated, before deciding to just go along with the interaction. He didn’t want to risk his subconscious throwing a less idylic scene at him by pretending to ignore this one. And besides, last night had been, all totaled, a huge relief- an unburdening of things left unsaid. This was probably the closest thing to therapy available to him these days, he might as well take advantage.

“I’m just...processing. Not to mention dealing with some mild dehydration.” He finally answered.

“Processing, huh? So does that mean you, uh, remember last night?” Anakin asked nervously.

“I do.” Obi-Wan smiled gently. As heart-wrenching as this was, it was also adorably sweet. Maybe it was worth it to push off waking for a little while. He could get some closure, maybe even work through some of the past to see where the two of them had gone wrong. It might even be helpful for Luke! Force willing, he would probably end up training Anakin’s son someday.

(the boy wouldn’t have many masters to choose from)

If this dream world could help him figure out specifically how he had failed as a Master, then he owed it to the galaxy to see it through. Satisfied, he resolved to let the fantasy play out. At least for a few more more hours. And...he had missed what Anakin had said. Wonderful start.

“I’m very sorry, Anakin would you mind repeating that? I was still a little distracted, but I promise, I’m focused on you now.”

Anakin shuffled nervously. “It’s nothing.”

Obi-Wan tried to project reassurance without actually projecting. “Please Anakin, I’d like to hear what you have to say. I know I wasn’t the most observant or approachable Master, and I’m sorry for that. But I have always cared about your thoughts and feelings.” It was a struggle and the words caught in his throat, but the raw burn of the apology was cleansing in an almost addictive way.

Anakin flushed. “Did you mean everything you said?” he asked nervously.

“I’d...rather not talk about seeing the destruction of the temple, seeing you... Maybe later...but please, I just don’t want to focus on it while I’m sitting here, looking at you,” Obi-Wan said quietly.

“That actually wasn’t what I was talking about,” Anakin responded quickly. “I mean, I do want to help you with that at some point, but I get not wanting to talk about visions, even if you should probably should. Of course if you do want to talk about that stuff, that’s more important, but since you don’t we can talk about the other stuff you mentioned. I was more referring to, you know, us, and what you said about our friendship?” his voice got progressively higher the longer he rambled. 

Obi-Wan thought back. “Well some of it is a little hazy, but overall yes. I...for a very long time I’ve considered you my best friend, and its not so easy for me to let go of my affections. I miss spending time with you; there are times I turn to say something and am still shocked you’re not there. I’m sorry I didn’t tell you, with real words, how much I cared. I’m sorry I didn’t hug you as much as I wanted, looking back that was a nonsensical Jedi custom. It’s not in the code; it’s just an affectation of dignity. All things considered, the fact that you often snuck out to see Padme doesn’t really bother me.” He paused. “Was that everything?”

“Oh. Yeah, that pretty much covered everything.” Anakin looked embarrassed, but happy. “I wasn’t sure if you were just saying that stuff because you were drugged, or really drunk or something.”

“No, I meant what I said. I suppose it just took an altered state for me to relax enough to actually say it instead of just thinking at you and assuming you would know. I must admit, its difficult for me to maintain this emotional honesty without feeling drunk, but it’s good. This is good.”

“Ah, that’s... wow. So you weren’t drugged? Cody was concerned you seemed to off for much you actually drank.”

Obi-Wan frowned. Hadn’t that been a trip? Vision blurring from desert hovel to some nameless Catina he once visited with Cody. The continuity since then was almost unsettling. But, then again, Obi-Wan always did have a remarkable talent for self-delusion, didn’t he. He waved away the concerns.

“My substance consumption was entirely deliberate and exactly what I needed. There might have been some unknown additions with some unforeseen after-affects, but like I said- I’m not drunk. I’m clear minded and in full control right now and I knowingly accept the current fallout from whatever I took. I could meditate and force purge to completely recenter, but I think it would be far wiser to just see where this goes. Do you disagree, Anakin?”

Anakin grinned widely. “Whatever you say, Obi-Wan. Just remember this is your idea. Also, I’m taking you to the healers tonight if you’re not completely back to yourself.”

Obi-Wan signed, “If I’m not back to myself in 12 hours, than I fully agree that’s a problem worthy of the halls of healing.”

“Right,” Anakin nodded decisively, “I’ll go get you some water then comm Cody to tell him you’re still alive.

Obi-Wan smiled weakly in response. This wasn’t just a hashed up memory; the responsiveness was more that. He quickly got dressed, hands lingering over soft fabrics and sand-free linens.

Anakin dropped off a cup of water; Obi-Wan sipped at it hesitantly. Dear force, this was dangerously vivid. It actually felt like a relief in his parched mouth. Clearly his subconscious was pulling out all the stops to trap him in this soft delusion. He would have to deal with the thirst and hunger until he woke up- it was probably the firmest link he had to his real body.

He took one last look around before rushing out of his room, eager to take advantage of the time.

Anakin looked nervously up from the comm when Obi-Wan started pulling his boots on. “You’re not going out in the temple like this, are you?”

“Of course! I want to visit the gardens and the Room of a Thousand Fountains. Not to mention spend some time with a few of the other Jedi. You might still be the dearest being in my heart, but there were other Jedi that I care for, and dammit I’m going to tell them that.” He finally finished lacing up his left leg and moved to the right.

Anakin was dumbstruck, presumably as burnt by the ‘dearest being’ comment as Obi-Wan was. Then he rallied, “Wow, wow, No. You are not running around the temple drugged so you can, I don’t know, give Mace Windu a hug. I thought when you said you were going to ‘deal with the fallout' from whatever the kriff you’re still on, you meant you were going to lounge around the quarters all day!”

His former padawan physically blocked the door when Obi-Wan started to leave, sounding vaguely hysterical, “You can’t run around loopy! You’re a High Council Member!”

“Not anymore,” Obi-Wan replied bitterly. 

“What do you mean not anymore,” Anakin said fiercely, grabbing on to his shoulders . “Did they kick you out? Is that why you’re acting crazy? Did you resign?”

Obi-Wan responded by pulling Anakin into a hug, which was immediately returned, “Of course not, don’t be absurd. Fine, I suppose I’m technically still a high council member, it just seems like a bit of a moot point.”

“What the kark does that mean? You used to dream about being on the council! You’re the wisest Master in any of those stupid chairs!”

‘Master of the High Council’ Kenobi just sighed heavily in response. He maneuvered around the confused errant Knight and into the hall. 

"Obi-Wan wait! At least eat something first! Or let me put my shoes on!”

“Very well, you have one minute to make yourself presentable. I only have a few hours before I’m going to need to get back to reality, and the longer I linger the more I fear extreme measures may be necessary.”

“What does that mean?” Anakin shouted from inside. “Extreme measures sounds really ominous, you know.”

“I’d rather not get into it, alright? Let’s just enjoy the here-and-now, eh, ad’ika?

Anakin crashed out the door with less than a second to spare. “What did you just call me?"

“Ad’ika,” Obi-Wan answered, striding down the hallway in the direction of the hanging gardens. “Surely you must have picked up some Mando’a from the troopers?”

“Yeah, but I wasn’t sure if I heard you right, bu- um- ori'vod,” Anakin fumbled out. “Uh, you’re not going to call me that in front of anyone else, right? You do remember that the council already gives us the side eye for over-attachment right?”

Obi-Wan hummed thought fully in responded. “There are far worse things a Jedi could do than admit to affection they already feel. Maybe if I had been honest about my attachments, they wouldn’t have ended the way that...” he trailed off quietly.

“The way that what,” Anakin asked frustrated. “You’re really giving me some emotional whiplash over here, and I’m starting to think that putting off dragging you to the healers is a stupid idea.

“There are far stupider things a Jedi could do,” he responded cheerily. “Oh look, there’s Plo Koon. MASTER KOON!” He shouted, startling the Kel Doran Jedi.

“Yes, Master Kenobi?” He replied slightly concerned as the two human Jedi came jogging over.

“I just wanted to say that I consider my former padawan my family. I raised him, I care for him deeply, and I don’t want to let go of those feelings.”

Plo Koon nodded seriously in response. “I feel just the same about my former padawans, and the Wolffe pack, of course. Denying my attachments isn’t, personally, a practical way to handle them. I’d rather honestly live as an imperfect Jedi than pretend to be a perfect example of the code. If I must have some imbalance, I’d rather it be an excess of compassion than a dearth,” he replied earnestly.

“I always admired that about you,” Obi-Wan replied ruefully. “This might be a little odd, but could I have a hug? I hold you in the highest regard and I’ve realized that there are so many Jedi that I never directly expressed my affection for and...”

Plo Koon didn’t wait for Obi-Wan to finish before wrapping his arms around him. “Of course, dear boy. You’ve had such heavy burdens placed on your shoulders during your life, especially in the last few years; it saddens me to see how deeply they’ve weighed you down. If there’s anything I can do to help, in any way, you simply have to ask.”

Obi-Wan sniffled slightly into Plo’s Shoulder while Plo rubbed soothing circles over his back.

A few passing Jedi gave the embracing Masters uncomfortable looks before hurrying on their way. Anakin stood slack-jawed.

When they finally pulled back, Plo Koon hesitated before finally asking, “I don’t mean to pry, but what brought all this on? I can sense much grief from you, even through your impressive shields.”

“It’s a long story,” Obi-Wan replied, wiping at the corner of his eyes. “I’d rather not get into it.”

“He’s high,” Anakin offered bluntly. “He took something last night and won’t go to medical wing.”

“Ah,” Plo said. “Is that true?”

Obi-Wan looked a little embarrassed. “I have the situation under control. My connection with reality might be...slightly altered right now, but my emotions, and what I chose to do with them are my own. I’m just, taking advantage of a unique opportunity to express myself.”

Plo Koon seemed to scrutinize him intensely, “If you’re sure this is what you need, than I support you. Just don’t do anything too foolish.” he finally offered.

Obi-Wan beamed. “I appreciate you saying so, I thought you would be supportive. Farewell, Master Koon”

Obi-Wan offered a respectful bow and then turned to walk away briskly. Before Anakin could follow, Plo rested a claw on his arm. 

“Feel free to comm me if his behavior reaches a point where you think he truly needs a healer. I’m happy to help you drag him there if need be. A little cathartic release isn’t in of itself such a bad thing, but if he starts acting too out of control...”

Anakin nodded in acknowledgment, then ran off to see who else Obi-Wan had chosen to throw himself at.

Part Four

[thisisthehardestthing]

18+

DEDICATED TO @undermattsun​​

Skate Rat! Kyoutani x Reader

So, if you’ve been following me these past two (?) months, you’ll know that I have become obsessed with Miki’s blog. Not only is she a talented writer with a big brain, but she’s funny and cool and a wonderful person to talk to that has not yelled at me for my dumb thoughts and sliding into her dm’s. Yet.

Thank you, Miki, for giving us Skate Rat content and being you.

Warnings: uh, weed, spit, toxic behavior: possessive, jealous? i dunno. Aged up. They’re in college.

:)

Kyoutani sits across the room, the red flame of the lighter flickering in his wild eyes as he lights the bong, chest expanding as the milky smoke vanishes into his body. His eyes close as he holds his breath; you inadvertently hold yours. When they open and the smoke floats up, he doesn’t look any more relaxed, the frown deepening as he passes the contraption to his left. His bleached hair, with coils tight against his scalp, blends into the eggshell-shaded wallpaper of the basement.

You dated Kentaro for a year when you decided to end things with him. Well, dated is a strong term. You banged for a week straight, he would ghost you, then hit you up again three weeks later saying he was “busy” with “stuff”, before seeing you nightly again for a couple more weeks, this pattern on repeat. And fuck it, he looks good. His loose shirt is unbuttoned save for the third, showing off the tattoo saying ‘MAD DOG’ across his sternum in small block letters, underneath multiple slim silver and gold chains.

He knows you’re watching, making it a point to guide the bong to the girl’s lips next to him. You can see his mouth move as he whispers something sickenly encouraging to her– he always liked ‘em green and fresh– but he laughs when she coughs, dainty, tiny hands clutching at the chest of her too-cute dress. You watch her let out a breathy giggle, but she’s scared, her hands trembling from his overpowering pressure (and probably smell, axe body spray mixed with hash). Your eyes roll as you take another sip from the vodka-red bull in a cheap, scratched, yellow Mickey Mouse cup–you found it in a cupboard in the kitchen.

But the cup bounces, missing your lips and splashing onto your white t-shirt when someone falls down next to you.

“Fuck, Oikawa!” you shout, leaning forward so that the drink runs directly to the already stained carpet. You spot a drop of blood from the night Mattsukawa smashed his nose while crushing a can against his forehead. The man in question chuckles, slinging his long legs over yours as he settles into the couch.

“Reparations?” he holds out a half-smoked blunt, and you glance at his strangely slender fingers, before sighing and taking a deep breath. It burns, you cough, and Oikawa grabs it back from you, checking to make sure it didn’t extinguish.

“What is that mixed with?”

He just raises his eyebrows, taking a leisurely drag. As the smoke filters out of his lips, he says, “Iwa rolled it.”

You wrinkle your nose, but then fall back as your heart drops into your stomach and the entire room spins. Groaning, you clutch at your temple, throat raw from just that puff.

“It’s mixed with dokha,” Oikawa whispers into your ear, teeth nipping at the lobe. 

You mumble a weak ‘get off’, bumping him back with your shoulder. He’s too close. You feel sick, as though stuck in a vacuum and your feet got sucked in before your head, stomach lurching up– 

“Move,” you curse, shoving Oikawa’s legs from yours as you bend over, head between your knees, eyes screwed tightly shut. Oikawa’s teasing laugh echoes in your ears as you dry heave, forcing yourself to ride the high like a bronco. You’ve had worse, you tell yourself over and over, whispering it as you begin to level out, mellow out, the buzz starting a static that tingles from your toes to your brain.

When you look up again, the room spins, pleasantly. You’re in a galaxy, tumbling through time and space, and you fall back to watch the stars pass by behind your eyelids. Oikawa’s legs find their way back over your knees, but you’re floating too far away to care.

“How does it feel?” he whispers. You can feel the stardust tickling your nose.

“Fantastic.”

You force your eyes open, with more effort than necessary, and your gaze instantly locks with Kyoutani’s. His thick lashes that rim his eyes are a magnet that you find yourself struggling to look away from. That cutesy girl is straddling him, his tattooed hands on the globes of her ass as he guides her grind against his groin. You’d almost feel jealous if it wasn’t for his intense stare licking over your body, swallowing you whole. The girl’s head travels slowly as she sucks on his neck, her fingers poking out from the tops of his hair where she clutches at it. You’re calm, confident even, when your arm lifts and your middle finger extends. It almost feels like you can touch him from across the room. His frown deepens as he rips his stare from you and instead focuses on pulling the girls lips against his.

“Hey, Oikawa,” you chirp, interrupting whatever the fuck he was prattling on about, “wanna fuck?”

Glancing sidelong at his shocked face, you see his lips turn up in a small smile with a shrug, “sure, why not.”

Oikawa lurches to his feet, gentleman-like as he helps you up from the couch, lanky body bending over yours as you find your footing on the constantly osmoting floor. You can feel Kyoutani’s eyes on you as you take Oikawa’s hand to lead him to the stairs of the basement. Hell, even Iwaizumi’s eyes burn into your back as you disappear into the main area of the house.

The lights are brighter here, the smell almost strange as you emerge from the fog and into where Iwaizumi’s mother keeps a clean house. It’s slightly sobering, unfortunately, and you look back at the man dragged by your hands into the bathroom just off the hallway. His eyes shine with excitement, and you sigh as the door closes, locks and his hands find your face.

His fingers have the slightest scent of tobacco to them as his lips press against yours. They’re hard, almost forceful, and you find your nose crunching before you try and relax into the kiss. You haven’t had any action in a while, so you might as well see it through and then dip for the night. The room tilts when your eyes close, letting Oikawa lean over you as you bend back and into him. His palms slide down your neck, squeezing and pawing at your breasts while your mouths slip open and tongues collide.

You think about the eyes that stared at you as you walked from the room, probably knowing exactly where you are, what you’re about to do. It makes your heart pound in your ears, heat flooding to your core, in a steady rhythm. It gets faster, faster and you pull away from oikawa’s mouth with a gasp.

“I swear to God, Toru, you better open this fucking door right fucking now.”

The door rattles in it’s frame as you hear Kyoutani call out in his rough growl from the other side. Oikawa looks down at you, then over his shoulder with a puzzled expression, eyebrows contorting on his pretty face as he pulls himself back from his high-driven lust.

“Are you and Kyo…?” he asks, hands dropping from where they had slipped under your shirt. You shake your head, and Kyoutani bangs on the wood again.

“Toru! I know yo–”

Oikawa whirls around and opens the door fluidly, leaning casually against the frame, “Dude, calm down.”

You peek around Oikawa’s chest, crossing your arms as you stare at the seething man, steam practically billowing from his nose– or it might be the last bong rip remnants. He catches your amused stare, his frown deepening as he pushes past Oikawa, into the bathroom, and between the both of you.

“You can’t sleep with him,” he says over his shoulder to you, keeping a guarded gaze at the man in front of him. Oikawa whistles lowly, whining a ‘dude’, eyes scanning over the situation while your cheeks begin to burn. Did he just–

“You can’t tell me who I can and can’t fuck.” You shove Kyoutani on his shoulder, the deep maroon shirt a soft cotton. It takes you by surprise; he always chooses the best fabric. You blink, bringing yourself back to the moment. Back to focus. You’re too high to start an argument.

“Of course I can.”

At Kyoutani’s words, Oikawa quickly raises his hands, saluting a bye to you as he turns on his heel and strides back to the basement, removing himself from the inevitable combustion. Your fists ball tightly, and you quickly shut the door before Kyoutani walks out. It slams closed.

“Why would you think that?” your voice is dangerously low, and Kyo looks over his shoulder at you, eyes slowly tracing up the line of your arm that presses against the wood by his head.

It feels like minutes pass for him to turn around, his body twisting so slowly–head first, then shoulders and chest, then his hips–before he’s finally facing you. The multitude of chains on his neck glints in the ugly fluorescent lighting, and his eggshell hair is stark against the green tiled wall in your peripheral, but his presence swallows you completely. That tattoo is a beacon to your gaze. ‘MAD DOG’, beware, stay back, screams out and you swallow as you lift your stare into his eyes.

The thought of how unfair it is that boys always have such thick lashes crosses your mind, but then Kyoutani licks his lips, and you smell the weed, axe body spray–his scent, just wafting through the air as it fills the bathroom. He shrugs, then chews a hangnail from his left ring finger, not intimidated in the least by your anger.

“You’re mine.”

Suddenly, you’re looking through a crystal glass, his face swirling in a kaleidoscope as memories of his possessiveness rush back into you. A bulldog. He looks at you like a toy, his honey eyes glazing your body until it’s slow and sticky.

“I’m not ‘yours’,” you quote, feeling the heat roll off his body in waves. You take a step back. His hand darts out to hold your neck, strong palms gripping your nape.

“Yes. You are.”

And he crashes his lips against yours, swallowing your protests down his gruff throat and pulling you tightly into his chest. It takes you by surprise, your gasp letting him burst into your mouth with tongue and teeth, and you claw to push him away. The hand on your neck controls you, turns you until you hit the sink with your lower back.

“Kyo,” you mumble, turning your head. His lips moving against your jaw with fire, possessiveness leaching into your skin. “Kyo, stop.”

He’s harder than you remember, your hands gliding down his chest as you push weakly at his sternum. Each touch of his pillowy lips has your knees buckling. His free hand thumbs the hem of your shirt, and you remember something,

“Isn’t that girl looking for you?”

Kyoutani falters, pulling back to stare at you with apparent confusion.

“What girl?”

You beat at his chest, finally able to shove him away. He truly has a one track mind; when he has his sights on something, nothing else matters.

“The one downstairs, that was all over you, that you were all over.”

You press two fingers into the side of his neck where she left a faint mark.

Realisation flickers in his eyes before a lopsided smirk takes over. He grabs the edge of the sink with his tattooed knuckles, pinning his hips against yours. The clouds that are his lips come tantalisingly close to yours again. You scowl.

“You jealous?”

Oh god, you roll your eyes, “you’re the one that ran after me.”

He frowns, mouth turning down, erection crushing painfully into the bone of your groin.

“She’s dumb, can’t handle her weed, and I’m not going to take care of that right now.”

The snort that comes out of your nose surprises you. The feeling of anger towards Kyoutani reluctantly begins to melt away, although you’re slightly worried about leaving that girl alone with the boys downstairs.

“I don’t think I was actually going to fuck Oikawa,” you admit, stretching your arms past his head and resting them in a dangle on his shoulders. You stare into his eyes, stuck like a fly in their syrup.

He slams his lips into yours, the force bending you backwards so that your forearms lock behind his neck to keep yourself close. You’re more prepared for the onslaught of his kiss, tongues dancing to the memory of how it used to be. Fuck, no ones a better kisser than Kyoutani. And you’re breathless when he pulls away to peel the shirt over your head, fingers heading straight for the clasp of your bra. The one track mind flooding back. 

Then again, on weed, you always feel like you’d die if you weren’t fucked right away, desperation seeping into your bones.

Your fingers undo the single button keeping his shirt closed, pushing it off his body and to the floor while he sucks and nibbles on your earlobe. His mouth is hot against your cold skin. You vaguely register that the door is unlocked, but when he grinds against the seam of your jeans, your thoughts are replaced with just how much you missed being touched by him.

Your bare chests press together, disrupting your thoughts of why you stopped sleeping with him. Your nipples harden against the cool metal and small raised ink of his multiple tattoos. The intricate lines of the moth on his breast has you fluttering, and you moan into his mouth.

“Off.” Kyoutani pulls at the loops of your pants, commanding you, making you unbutton your jeans in between sloppy kisses.

You kick the heel of your left shoe off, and your mouth is suddenly lonely when he drops to his knees and drags the pants down your legs hastily. You tug your leg out of the jeans so that you can widen your knees, and hop onto the edge of the sink. Kyo’s rough palms push your chest back until your head hits the mirror and the faucet presses into your spine, but your discontent is cut off when he forces his head between your knees to bite at the tender meat of your inner thighs.

He takes a deep sniff, nose nuzzling into your panties, and you feel your chest flare up, holding your breath.

“You stink,” Kyoutani says with a grin, staring up at you with glazed eyes. Embarrassment burns in your face, you feel yourself crashing down and you kick his shoulder.

“Shut up, it’s not supposed to smell like roses,” you huff, almost closing your legs around his head. He chuckles, deep and throaty, and stops you, a hand keeping one knee open wide. His other comes to your mound, and you feel his thumb pawing just off-centre to your clit.

“A bit to the right, asshole.”

He grumbles, but his finger shifts and you moan, your voice echoing against the tiles, bouncing into your body as you grip the edge of the sink, abdomen tightening. You know it drives him wild to hear you, and your eyes close to revel in the pleasure that’s beginning to build.

“Nah, keep your eyes on me.” Kyotani stops his movements, thumb dropping lower as he feels the slick that’s seeping through the cotton, tucking the fabric between your folds. You glare down at him, eyes shooting open, and shift your ass on the cold ceramic that’s starting to bruise your bones. You feel the static starting in your toes, and you scrunch them at that same time that his tongue presses, flat and wide.

You flinch at how wet his mouth is, (does he even get cotton mouth?) how he knows exactly how to press against your skin to have you grinding your clit against his nose as he laps you up and leaves you thoroughly soaked, tingling. His lips move to suck on your sensitive nerves and you feel those first waves travel through you. Struggling to keep your balance on the sink edge, you arch your back from the faucet, gripping his hair as you pant and groan into your orgasm.

“Oh God,” you moan as he pulls away, licking his lips as he watches your rolling eyes and twitching thighs.

“No, just me,” he smirks, grabbing your jaw with rough fingers and bringing you forward. You wince as the skin beneath your ass rubs over the bone, peeling from the ceramic. You focus on his eyes, the golden glint in them, and at his contorting lips. 

He spits into your mouth.

He lets it fall onto your soft tongue, watching it as it slides down and you swallow it. Your tart taste zings your nerves, and your eyes roll up at how dirty that just was. He chuckles, fingers sliding down to grasp at your hips and pull you off the sink.

Your knees are weak, but you stand, steadying yourself with your hands on his shoulders. Your right foot is asleep in your shoe, and you lean onto your left.

“That was gross,” you moan, but you still feel your core clenching in need for more. You grab the back of his head and bring his mouth to yours, licking a long stripe up his jaw. The slight stubble of a fresh shave pricks at your tongue, and you bite his ear. He shudders, pulling his body tighter against yours. The buckle of his belt presses into your stomach, a cold metal, an off-white knock off.

“Do you have a condom?” you whisper, letting your breath tickle his cartilage, feeling the goosebumps rise on the back of his neck. You run his chains through your fingers as he turns his head, raising an eyebrow.

“No, we don’t need one.”

Suddenly your chest combusts, and you burst out laughing, forehead falling to his shoulder.

“I do not know where your dick’s been these past few months, Kyo.”

He shrugs, his right hand moving to rub teasing circles into your hip, his other hand lifting your head with your hair.

“You don’t know where my tongue’s been either, and you just came all over it.”

Your mouth shuts, you huff, and push a single finger into his chest, “no rubber, no lovin’, baby.”

He groans, rolling his head, his neck cracking lightly.

“I’m clean.”

“Kyo, no.”

“Just a thigh fuck?”

You give him a pointed stare–you want him in you–and untuck the wedgie of your panties from your folds, beginning to pull your foot back into your jeans. His hand flies to your shoulders, his other digging deep into his back pocket and pulling out his wallet.

“Wait, wait, fine, I’ve got one here.”

You smile. You knew it. You did date him for a year.

While he fiddles with his velcro billfold, you tug on his belt, loosening it until it falls open and his pants sag. Your hands stroke languidly up his hard length, while he angrily rips into the golden foil packet with his teeth. He smacks your hand away, and you pout, but watch as he unfurls his thick cock from his underwear. The thought of being stretched out by him again has your toes tingling and fingers twitching. His pants are pulled down to just below his ass–he has the kind that juts out and perks up.

Kyo’s lips find yours again, warm and quick. You feel him fiddling between your bodies, unrolling the condom down his shaft. Once it’s on, his hand grabs your hair, fist tight until you whine at the tug, your neck stretching out for him.

“I really hate condoms,” he grunts, then pulls your skin between his teeth as he sucks a blooming blue mark onto the column of your throat. 

His free hand wanders to your pussy, fingers sliding over the drenched cotton, peeling it to one side so that a thick finger slides inside. You find your fingers in his hair, tugging it as he pumps inside you, his lips never leaving your neck. Your skin bruises, glistens with his spit as he breathes behind your ear, nipping at the lobe. You pull him back against your lips.

As your mouths collide, his cockhead taps at your folds, his fingers circling around your waist to grab at your hips.

“Turn around.”

You glance down to double check, before turning around and come face-to-face with your bloodshot eyes, puffy lips and bitten skin. You watch as Kyoutani spits into his palm, the sound echoing along with your heaving breathing.

“How romantic,” you deadpan while he smooths it over his covered cock. 

He glares up at you, but smirks when he glances back down at your back, the curve of your ass. You make a show of peeling your underwear down until just below your rear, showcasing your cunny for him. Kyoutani grunts, fingers instantly reaching to spread your skin apart.

“Shit, I’ve missed this pussy,” he mumbles, more to himself than you, but you shiver, arching your back. You missed his dick, but you’d never tell him that.

“Fuck me, Kyo” you moan, catching his eyes in the reflection, the malicious smile that spreads on his lips.

“If you insist.”

Then the cold tip of the condom presses against your folds, your slick ample enough that he starts to slip inside. Your fingers grip the ceramic, your eyes rolling back as you feel that stretch that only he can give you. 

Kyoutani enters you slowly, savoring the way you pulse and unfurl around him as he disappears inch by inch inside your beautiful body. A body that was made for his cock, for him. That thought raises goosebumps on his arm, his lower lip pulling between his teeth. Not enough of you is marked as his.

You wriggle against him, whining to feel completely full. His warm palm presses against your middle-back, deepening the arch, his other hand grabbing a handful of ass that sends a dull throb of pain that makes you clench around him. You briefly see his eyes flutter, but when he sees you smiling triumphantly, he slams in, fully sheathed.

You yelp, jerking forward, palm slamming to the mirror before your head hits it.

“Careful,” you pant, breathing deeply, moaning as he leans over you and places a gentle kiss to the top of your shoulder.

That’s the last thing he does you remember coherently. His hips pull out, and he begins his relentless pace, pistoning so that you shake against the sink. He has you bumping into the edge of the ceramic until you’re sure you have bruises against the bone. Curses tumble out of your lips, his name floating around you as endless pleasure pours through your pores.

You don’t know if it’s the high, but you can see stars. Each rut into you pulling your core tighter, clenching around him as his cock kisses your cervix. You vaguely register that warm palm pushing you down even lower, your cheek grazing against the cool metal of the faucet. A particularly rough thrust has your hand flailing, the water turning on and running cold against your heated flesh. Is it misting? You gasp up when it pours into your mouth, water dripping down your chest and between your breasts as he laughs. You brace yourself against the mirror.

In your shock, your body tightens, the slick between your legs spreading messily as he continues to pound into you. You’re just so wet and he’s so warm. A little too warm.

“Fuck, tell me you’re mine,” Kyoutani growls, staring at the way he disappears into your willing body, your aching body. You grit your teeth in defiance. His fingers reach around to rub tantalising circles into your clit, his teeth graze the smooth skin of your back as his moans sink into your skin. Your head drops back in ecstasy.

“Say it!” he barks, thrusts getting sloppier, but his fingers drift away from your clit.

“I’m yours!” you plea, your mouth to keep that coil from unravelling. You feel that pressure, the electricity as it courses up your spine. “I’m yours.”

It’s all you repeat, begging him not to stop until you see nothing but green and yellow and white and, fuck. Your orgasm has you collapsing, your knees buckling in so that you’re held up only by the edge of the sink and Kyo’s hands around your waist, still circling your clit as you draw him into your cunt.

He moans your name, shuddering to a halt inside you, cheek resting sweatily against your skin. You catch your breath, the ascension of your orgasm has you floating and every single hair on your body prickles with hypersensitivity. It almost hurts. The water from the faucet drips off your chest, your hands sliding on the rim of the sink, your thighs slipping together–

Wait.

No.

“Mother fucker!” you groan, shaking him off you as you turn around to stare at his bare dick, the condom discarded and forlorn on the floor. “How fucking dare you.”

 “You told me you’re mine,” he shrugs, wiping the left over cum leaking from the head and licking it with a satisfied grin. Tucking himself back into his pants and picking up his shirt, he continues, “you’ve still got an IUD, right?” 

You just stare incredulously at his cockiness. He pulls the burgundy hand towel from a rung and places it in your limp hand. Your skin crawls, feeling violated, but you’d be lying if you weren’t still turned on by his blatant disregard of your feelings.

“Asshole.”

He smiles, giving you a quick kiss on the cheek, “thanks, I’ll call you.”

You know he won’t. You grab his chains, ensnaring his swollen lips with yours, before he leaves you messy, naked and bruised. Exactly how you like it. 

------

<3 I hope you liked it Miki.

I wanted to make Oikawa cry, but didn’t know how.

This is extra, I thought about writing it in but didn’t know how to end it so:

He smiles, giving you a quick kiss on the cheek, “thanks, I’ll call you.”

You know he won’t. You grab his chains, ensnaring his swollen lips with yours, your hands snake between your thighs.

Smack! You slap some of his dripping cum against his cheek, laughing as he angrily wipes at it with the back of his hand.

[rayshippouuchiha]

Oh lord please don't judge me Ray but i need to tell you this thing that's stuck in my brain, i NEED to.

Ok, i was going for a walk, earphones, music full blast. Making up scenarios in my head, as you do.

THEN SUDDENLY this idea dropped and i ran with it for the whole 4km walk

Deku is a pro hero already, 22-26years kinda old, works at an agency, is pretty popular and well liked. A case comes in. Pretty simple, scumbag bad guy needs to be stopped, but it needs to be undercover. Scumbag oftens visits specific strip club. We need an undercover stripper to get close, scumbag likes taking them home.

Thing is, hero agency leader goes "ok ladies, sorry, it's gonna fall on you, which one of you could volunteer?"

Female heroes not happy, hesitant, they know that things like THAT are expected of them (sexism in the hero industry, anyone?) Also even if its for a case, if it gets out they gonna get hit on their rep. So kinda silent all around.

Deku does not like the ganging up on the female half of the agency. He interupts "i can do it, you just need a dancer right? i know how to do it, not a big deal". Leader goes "wait what but we need a woman, scumbag is straight, he wont fall for a dude" Deku just with the most deadpan stare in the galaxy "we have a metamorphagus quirk user on payrole that can change the appearance of others, dont think this is gonna be too hard for them to do"

So we have this, leader slackjawed, female heroes dumbstruck but relieved, Deku just chilling.

He gets changed to the specifications of scumbags fav features, they get to the club, one of the female heroes feels kinda bad so they go with Deku to act as support but they disguise as lookout waitress while Deku goes to dance.

AND DOES HE DANCE, HE SHREDS THE FLOOR all to the beat of "100% pure love" (please listen to this while imagining, god it sounds good)

NOW WE GET TO THE FUN PART. Scumbag notices, he likes, asks Deku over, he goes up to the scumbag all seductive, they hash the details out on how they wanna do this, all going to plan

TINY PROBLEM Aizawa is doing his nightly rounds, and stops at the club for an informant, they get their thing done and Aizawa stays for a drink when he sees a dancer (our disguised Deku) prepare to go away with scumbag. Aizawa and scumbag have bad blood, Aizawa knows the dude has his hands in the human selling business and is a creep overall, and now he sees a newbie dancer go away with him. Bad signs all around.

Don't wanna get too long, Aizawa follows, Deku gets the details on the case but not before Aizawa punches scumbag in the face for groping Deku's ass, Deku laughs and tells Aizawa he is an undercover hero and was safe all along, Aizawa gets bashful, Deku kinda flirts and changes back to normal midway, Aizawa gets red in the face (Deku the pro hero in all his glory, standing under the streetlamp clad in skimpy outfit). They exchange names and that's the end. For now 😏

i am going insane imagining the details to flesh this out and it kinda reminded me of your au's Ray so i had to share!

WHY WOULD I SHAME YOU WHEN THIS IS GLORIOUS!?!

Seriously if you write this you have to @ me because I love it so much!!!

[ofoceansandtombsanew]

random but getting inspired by @hash-slinging-slasher-trash to make separate pages for the self-ships i have. they are galaxy brained for that move

[autistic-damian-wayne]

Dutch Tim AU???? 👀

Might I get to know more? 👉👈

(Als always, batc.est shippers dni <3 i hate yall)

OK SO

Honestly I have completely forgotten how I got here, but I'm just gonna assume it's bc I love Tim and am Dutch so I just got the galaxy brain idea to combine them. I actually made this meme a while ago fagshfkghk

So yes this au was just born of me wanting to put an aspect of myself onto one of my favourite characters (looks at my glasses Jason fic)

Yes the Tim in this is trans and autistic like my usual stuff

Basically Tim's mom is Dutch and he grows up in the Netherlands for most of his childhood and moves to the US with his dad after she dies at... around 12 or 13 probably.

The Bats still exists btw, though I thiiiink this is a Jason lives and a "Lotsa Bad Stuff Gets Yoten" au so there's that. I haven't hashed out the details of how Tim joins the family he just Does dw abt it

The important stuff is of course the shenanigans

Oh before I get into that, I gave Tim a Dutch last name!! De Vogel, which means the bird because I think I'm funny. So now he's Tim Drake de Vogel-Wayne aka Tim Bird Bird

This got really long so I put it under a read more yw to all followers who don't care about this au you already have to see enough of my bullshit

Poor Timmy's last name is always butchered 😔

Except Dick, because Dick speaks a little Dutch ("Dick you are my new favourite brother" "i only pronounced the g right" "exactly")

We Dutch are passionate about our G

Damian can also pronounce it right. Tim nearly cries

Tim: Dick and Damian are the only valid fucking people in this family

Duke: but-

Tim: come back when you can pronounce verschrikkelijk

(Translation: horrible, though it's more about the g sound rather than the meaning) (ch makes a g sound in Dutch. Don't ask)

SPEAKING OF PRONUNCIATION

Tim rages when people dare pronounce Van Gogh wrong

He looks like this:

Jason: so this burglar seems to be obsessed with van go

Tim: van gogh

Jason: what?

Tim: it's pronounced van gogh you fuck

Jason: how are you making that sound with your throat

Tim fucks with his siblings using Dutch

Tim: wat zijn jullie aan het lullen

His sibs: what

Tim: ah. Wrong language. I said what are you talking about?

(Translation: technically it says "what are you dicking". Lullen is talking bullshit)

Jason being an annoying shit:

Tim: krijg de pest

Jason: what

Tim: I said shut up

(Translation: get the plague)

Here he was pretending he mixed up his languages but that actually happens a lot (trust me i would know)

Tim, walking into the kitchen: goedemorgen, nog iets interessants gebeurd terwijl ik sliep? Heeft Damian een nieuwe hond ofzo, ik kwam een chihuahua tegen die we volgens mij eerder niet hadden

Bruce:

Tim: nou je hoeft me niet te negeren hoor

Bruce: Tim...

Tim:

Tim: FUCK WRONG LANGUAGE

(Translation: Good morning, anything interesting happen while i was asleep? Does Damian have a new dog or something, I came across a chihuahua I'm pretty sure we didnt have before

(Well you don't gotta ignore me)

When English Hard, Tim and Dick will sit together and talk in a mix of languages

Tim speaks Dutch, English, German, French and Latin bc I speak those languages (ok not fluent in the last 3 and especially not German but Dutch and German is close enough that we can kind of understand each other)

I don't have any specifc language headcanons for Dick, but he knows the basics of a lot of languages including Dutch so he and Tim can communicate a-ok when not using English

Bruce: hey tim-

Tim: ich spreche pas anglais vandaag

(Translation: I don't speak English today, in a horrid combination of German, French, and Dutch)

Dick, sticking his head in Tims room: hey tim bruce said- what are you doing?

Tim, hanging from the curtains and watching a YouTube video upside down: studying

Dick: with a spanish video? For Latin?

Tim: yeah?

Dick: you dont even speak Spanish

This is a self callout. I have done this exact thing (minus the curtains)

Tim usually swears in English because a lot of Dutch swears are English

Though when he's really mad he says godverdomme (god damn me, aka the radder version of god damn it)

Yes I do that <3

Jason: the Netherlands?

Tim: Holland.

Jason: oh, like Amsterdam?

Tim: I'm disowning you as my brother.

Ok I'm getting real tired now but I have more!! Ask me about ice skating or bicycles or HEMA!! I love talking about my aus/fics

[adashofniallandasprinkleoflunacy]

when you write stuff like ysijwa do you like plan everything out beforehand or do you think of stuff and write and then more ideas happen when you write? just curious bc there's so much to the story already and we're not even half way through it yet. do you have like a board with plot lines and strings everywhere yk the one asksskslajq - is it hard sharing ideas and co-writing or do you get together and share a brain cell when yall talk abt the story 🤔

Kinda both, but mostly the second!! so we have a rough overall outline of the big milestone moments in the fic, and then we outline chapters and scenes around those specific moments!!! Idk how leyla does her chapters but I personally outline my own because I need to jot all my shit down or I’ll forget it SNDNSNSNSN so every chapter I do has an outline to guide me through it and has reminders of important quotes, scenes, interactions, etc!!!

But most times, we’ll get ideas on the spot that will connect to things in the future and I always get so excited because I’m like omg I can’t believe I hadn’t thought of this before! And sometimes we bounce them off each other!!! Like in ch12 leyla had added a lil paragraph in there about Harry playing the piano one night and he was playing the Schumann song he sang to Y/N and it’s the first time he’s truly played a piece that’s so interwoven into his past all by himself in over 30 years, so it was a big deal, right? And I remembered a scene we’d discussed in a future chapter and was like PAUSE. I HAVE AN IDEA.

I basically blew up that one tiny snippet into a very important self-realization scene for Harry, which will be tied to multiple other pivotal scenes in the future and it’ll create a full-circle affect throughout the whole plot, which I really love cause I adore when things fall into place like that and everything fits together like a puzzle. I wouldn’t have gotten the idea for it if leyla hadn’t written that paragraph, so it goes to show that we hash out the details as we go!! Like we have a general overview of everything that has to happen, and then we go in and build on what we have as the plot progresses. And we always check with one another to see what the other thinks and we’re always like “omg that’s genius that’s another great layer to add” and it’s just cool bc I feel like a lot of the best parts of the fic have happened on a whim when one of us randomly had a galaxy brain idea at 3 in the morning AJDNSNSNSJS

Like one of the huge defining factors in the fic that’s gonna happen is one that wasn’t originally part of the plot at all and I thought up randomly in the shower one day and literally called leyla while I was in a towel turban to explain the whole thing to her to see what she thought SKDNSNNDSJJS she said it was amazing so we added it into the outline and now that’ll be a big contributing factor to the conflicts in the fic 😌

The fic is very fluid and mailable, we’re adding and switching around scenes constantly to where they fit best around the general skeleton, so the writing process can be messy and that’s why it’s been taking so long between chapters— because we’re trying to make sure we touch all the bases that need to be touched in order to pull from them in the future. GOOD THINGS TAKE TIME AND ALL THAT :D

[firespirited]

Tumblr is acting like garbage so I can't copy and paste but the ~Philopher~ said, in the reply to Keith, it isn't believable that a straight, trans man would play a straight, cis woman....Did they watch S2? Women who have romances with other women are het now?

Identity shit can take time to hash out to it's final form. It's not like he planned "Ooh, I'm gonna grab up this cis female role while being transmasculine! How devilish of me!" while rubbing his hands together. Even if someone is vehemently against trans men being cast as women, he has played the role for two seasons already, why not "grandfather" him in?

People hate recasting, anyway. Overall, I think most fans would rather keep him, since is the Vanya actor that they're used to, vs. firing him to prove they respect his identity

It's a queer friendly netflix show adapted from a comic by Gerard Way. S2 ended in a whole different timeline where Ben's not dead, "Vanya's a dude" isn't even top ten on the wierdest things they could do. Comics are so fluid in their timelines gender and racebending, disabling and undisabling. The big Disney+ show of the month Loki is dead so they got a Loki from a different timeline. My main question to all the OTHER comic book adaptations (except Doom patrol - I love you, please come back): why haven't you added more diversity? you can always retcon if it doesn't work out.

But imagine thinking THE Elliot Page hasn't earned the right to keep his role as Vanya.

"Trans actors are coming for cis roles" is a galaxy brain take when benny comboblotch is still playing gay autists and indian supermen and eddie richmayne gets an oscar for playing a disabled man and a fetished version of a trans woman. What world are you in?

[phoebehalliwell]

Okay, so I swear I mean this legitimately and not rudely, but I'm curious about how you pick out your rarepairs (Kyle x Piper, Andy x Phoebe, Sheridan x Phoebe)? Is it like sticking characters in a generator and seeing if you like the dynamics or do you just have a galaxy brain that mere mortals don't comprehend?

so piper and kyle was actually not an invention of my own brain that is thanks to one or possibly two anons dating like way way back this was one of them and the other was the lone person who voted piper/kyle in my valentine's rarepair extraordinaire and it was really the valentine's one that kicked it off because i rewatched that morgue scene because of it and like. like man. There Is Something There. and then i kinda have this tendency to latch onto things kinda chew on them for a while and piperkyle was def one that's real fun to work with because the more you think about it imo the more appeal there is because just to say it point blank is like woah wait what the fuck but to break both of them down especially tracking piper's evolution as we've seen it as she becomes more jaded and bitter and closed off to love and optimism and to have that kind of become undone by a man who is just as jaded and bitter??? like! the flavor. the. narrative foils. an unlikely trust growing that unconsciously grows more and more into something that resembles love but no you can't put that name to it because it's not love because (especially in piper's case like you had love you had it and you lost it you know love) and this is just so wildly different from anything you've ever experienced and yet from where there once lay only thorns now blossom roses like!! i'm a sucker for a good slow burn i also think kyle was a really wasted character when it comes down to what he was versus what the show tried to make him so when there's time to like hash him out i always think that's fun. with sheridan and phoebe that was literally just me giffing i think it's 7x01 where sheridan like vaguely threatens phoebe in the park and i'm like okay. that's gay. that one i'm just like hey everyone sees this right that's just chemistry that's that unexplained x factor (esp considering so many of phoebe's love interests lacked that in favor of casting men who at the time were considered pretty). phoebe and sheridan had that man. phoebe and andy Specifically tho i was thinking of an SO swap for reasons soon to be revealed and i was like oh yeah i should just revisit the greatest hits paigeleo pruecole piperkyle and then i realize that that's a p even swap no like. double stacking love interests meaning i should pair phoebe with a prue interest and i was just giffing wicca envy and i do wanna gif this scene but it's a bit too long kinda a pain in my ass where prue looks really guilty of murder and andy's there like u look guilty of murder and phoebe's like step off her man?? fuck off? what, is this cause she dumped you, huh? bitch? like phoebe's always had such a mouth she doesn't shy away from a fight and you know andy doesn't want some demure girl next door type some sweet boring doormat so i think someone who challenges him and brings that passion is really great and then as we see even in s2 like phoebe does eventually want to settle down and have like a bunch of kids and be a mom and we know andy looks for that too so there's both a present compatibility of this banter this look em right in the eyes and challenge them flirtation (another great phoebe/andy moment? where's your warrant.) but also a future compatibility of similar goals And an added past compatibility of clearly they were all like family friends right that's why we see andy in the manor in that 70's episode but On Top Of That phoebe's the black sheep criminal the punk rock sk8r grrl whereas andy was like. upstanding citizen followed in his father's footsteps third generation cop. like. there's a friction there that can very easy turn into flame, you know?

[ernmark]

Penumbra good vibes concept #??: an impossible au but if m'tendere lived imagine a world wherein they sat down for tea with jet and the two of them talked philosophy into the small hours of the morning. (there are a number of things they don't strictly agree on but the talking is what matters most to both of them.)

I’d love to see them really get deep into discussions of the Hanataba clinics. 

For one thing, because I think M’tendere would be super into the idea of creating more clinics like them around the galaxy. But also I’d love to see their take on Jet’s philosophy of not-necessarily-real things having real effects on the universe. Also some good back-and-forth about the weird dream quest the patients go on, the fact that failing their quest might in fact kill them after the fact, and what that might imply-- is it some kind of supernatural force? A weird psychosomatic thing that just shuts down the brain entirely? Or is it the body reacting to a lesion in the brain and interpreting it in the dream? 

I feel like they’d have a good time hashing it all out.