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cabalxcalamity · 3 months

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◟✧⡀ ( shô kasamatsu. cisgender man. he/him. ) … there’s a figure off in the distance, do you see it? wait is that … TOMOYUKI EIJI ? how long have they been standing there? if that’s really them, i believe they’re THIRTY. do i know them? no, but i hear they’re PROTECTIVE and RESILIANT, but also DESTRUCTIVE and <ISOLATED>. i do know that they’ve been in the City for <TWENTY-FIVE YEARS>. it’s crazy that they’re just standing there … shouldn’t they be working at SCARLET LETTER LODGINGS as a OWNER? maybe they’re off today, i couldn’t tell you. hope they get moving soon. i’m starting to feel like GODZILLA is peering over at me …

a god incarnate. a city doomed.

status: tired as hell ... rift level: legendary powers:

atomic energy manipulation: atomic breath (emitting a powerful stream of radioactive heat energy from his mouth) and energy absorption (absorbing radiation to heal or power himself - he can become stronger after exposure.)

regeneration: rapid healing (allows him to fully recover from severe injuries including regenerating lost tissue, healing wounds and recovering from severe damage to internal organs).

heightened strength/durability: superhuman strength (in larger form - able to lift and throw other her monsters, and incredibly large objects - in normal form, able to lift and throw cars/trucks as well as being a strong hand-to-hand combatant.) durability (capable of withstanding conventional weaponry, energy attacks and environmental extremes - his skin (and in the larger form, his scales) provide a nearly impenetrable defense against physical and energy-based attacks.

size alteration: growth & size change (full godzilla-lizard form, the more energy he absorbs, the larger he can grow. he is like a goldfish and will grow to fit his tank.)

weaknesses: oxygen destroyer, psychic/mental attacks, temperature extremes, large amounts of electricity will repel him, coagulation agent, energy overload, advanced weaponry, regeneration limits, vulnerability during transformations

mythos: based off of the heisei & reiwa era - tomoyuki eiji is named in homage to two of the great contributers to the godzilla mythos. he first debuted in 1954 and was a metaphor for nuclear destruction, inspired by the bombings of hiroshima and nagasaki as well as the lucky dragon 5 incident.

the heisei era began in the 1980s to the mid 1990s. Known for its darker tone and more cohesive storytelling, these movies focused on the horror of nuclear destruction, genetic engineering and environmental destruction. this era explored the consequences of human scientific experimentation and environmental negligence - godzilla is a symbol of nature's wrath against humanity.

the reiwa era began in 2019. it focuses on government inefficiency and disaster response, environmental concerns, godzilla as an adapting and evolving force of nature which emphasizes themes of adaptation and mutation. this era dives into themes of genetic manipulation, and the ethical implications of scientific and technological advancements.

brief background:

he wasn't born… he was conceived as a series of genetic information written down on paper, a series of secret experiments carefully leading to the moment an egg and a sperm were combined and he was born first in a test-tube and then in an artificial womb. he was raised around scientists. poked, prodded and told that he was the hope for humanity - yet, he knew how poor humanity was. how destructive. he saw how animals were used and thrown away, how humans battled against one another, waged war against the environment.

how he managed to escape is another story - one he doesn't share - but he ended up in the city and there, he found that his power bloomed when he was fifteen - he swore, it was born from his rage and anger and pain. he is tempered by those who care for him -- and he is reminded that there is some good left in the world worth saving ... but not many, and as the days go on ... he's losing what little of his humanity he has left.

it hadn't always been like that - there was a time when he was more human than monster, but as the years have gone on -- his desire to protect and his anger towards the corruption and environmental decay of the city had pushed him further and further down the road towards fully embracing his powers and who he embodies. now, he is more monster than man - as protective as he had always been, but no longer able to control his rages. he isolates himself because he is no longer able to fit in with others - not easily, not readily.

wanted connections:

mothra: if the world lives to see another century, please remember what mothra did for you and the planet you live on. (his closest ally/his soulmate)

king ghidorah: the entire human race will perish from the Earth. Where the monster ghidorah passes, only flaming ruins are left. (his enemy)

gamera: We commit to the cradle of time the Last Hope, Gamera. May he awaken with the shadow of evil, gyaos. (co-worker)

others include: the one he saved, the one whose life he ruined, the one who comes around and won't leave, a scientist hunting him

#eiji.intro #cabal: introduction #mist.intro

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theleanbean · 1 year

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Curious why you think ITRN has more stronger songs, which would you say? There's only a few songs on ITRN that stand out to me whereas PDA's weakest song is the most ITRN song on that album (Supercell). And what do you mean by more defined? Just coherent thematically wise or do you mean music wise?

Uh oh you've opened a page in my 1000 page essay on king gizzard and the lizard wizard's music.

Bear in mind this 50 page essay might seem like I hate PDA, I do not. It's just hard not to sound negative when comparing two things in which you prefer one over the other. I honestly think that PDA took the lessons that the band learned from ITRN and made it their own. The album sounds like they had a lot more fun with it, for better... or for worse....(jk)

My main reason on why I prefer ITRN over PDA is that I like the theme of Rats Nest a lot more than that of PDA. While albums don't necessarily need a message to be good, I think that ITRN having a well-defined message (and resolution) makes it more meaningful and memorable to me rather than PDA.

While both albums do have plot lines that are about humanity screwing themselves over. I feel like ITRN has a more grounded call-out, through that of the rich deforming the earth and leaving everyone else behind to die, is stronger than the metaphorical destruction that PDA has both by that of the dragon and motor spirit(?).

Initially, when it came out I didn't even care about ITRN, but once I sat down and listened to it with the lyrics open I was able to understand and appreciate it more. I have a hard time doing that because of prose that lies within PDA, the album uses a lot of tropes that are common in older forms of English and fantasy stories. Thematically, the prose actually fits really well with the fantasy setting and demonstrates the crazy writing capabilities of the band.

On the other hand, that style of writing feels too polite to me. It reminds me of the type of language that i heard at church (sorry gizz) to the point where when I'm just reading it alone, my brain puts it in the same cadence as the stuff that i heard at church that I also never processed into my brain. Like the most sterile way to talk about the horrors.

PDA doesn't have a "Satan points me to the rats nest moment" and the message (if there even is one) is obscured by language that I struggle with which makes me feel quite stupid because I don't even know what the dragon is a stand in for, or even if it's supposed to be a metaphor for anything. Because to me, the Motor Spirit is oil, but the witches are witches, and the dragon is a dragon, but if only 1/3rd of the album is a metaphor why should I think that it's saying anything important. The album has implications of a message but the fantasy elements just throw it completely off because I can't find connections between them and reality.

To me PDA comes across as silly while ITRN is more of an angry album. I have strong (and a bit fond) memories of leaving my customer facing jobs during covid, and just cranking ITRN in my car for my ride home. Maybe its not fair to compare an album that I have long term connection with, over one that just came out, but if we were voting without nostalgia Changes would have destroyed Gumboot Soup.

ITRN is an album that I can put on when I'm mad and I can work it out through some good loud music. Which is not something that I find that PDA does for me, because it doesn't make me feel anything at all, I can enjoy it, but it doesn't stick in me like many other songs and albums in King Gizzards Discography.

It doesn’t feel sinister like the first 30 seconds of Superbug or the last minute of hell does. The dragon talks about destroying the earth and gobbling up people, and I feel nothing.

By obscuring the message, PDA comes across as more goofy and is easy to see it as the album where witches screw up and summon an evil dragon that eats everyone. Which, if that were the story-line alone, it's easy for me to prefer ITRN and its more grounded extinction message. And if that isn't what the album is about then what is it about because I literally can't tell what its a metaphor for. You put on Planet B or Mars For the Rich, everyone knows what you are listening to. The space part in ITRN does not do that as much, but because of its structure it means that by the time Hell plays you've received a payoff. The first 4 songs present an issue, the next 4 songs present the response, and Hell is the resolution. PDA's resolution basically happens in Gila Monster, because none of the songs after that present anything new that you haven't previously been told in Gila Monster.

I honestly think that my main hang-up is that I want more out of it. It's got a strong concept but no real payoff and doesn't build itself up to anything. Supercell & Converge are the different executions of the same thing. Gila Monster, Dragon, & Flamethrower, are the same way. The album doesn't even resolve itself as it ends with what I'm assuming is a teaser. (Which don't get me wrong it does get me excited for the other album, but long-term once that other album is out, what's the point) PDA is presented and created like a concept album, but holds itself back by not doing that and resolving itself. If PDA was instead created as another album with individual songs that tell a story like Changes, Omnium, or IDPLML I think that I would be more forgiving towards it.

As for song enjoyment, in my personal opinion, Perihelion is probably one of the best songs King Gizzard has in their discography. In my listening to PDA there are songs that I enjoy, but with my current music tastes there aren't really any that stand out as something that I'll be listening to over and over long term.

Like I think that Motor Spirit has a cool guitar solo and Ambrose's singing in Gila Monster is funny yet enjoyable. I like Flamethrower's call back to Motor Spirit, but more than anything, that song makes me more excited for the 'techno' album that they keep teasing with its long synth ending.

Between the two albums though, the only song I skip in ITRN is Organ Farmer, while in PDA I don't really care for Supercell, Converge, & Dragon. Flamethrower is also an interesting song because until they get to the part where they start singing Flamethrower, I do not care for it, after that it's good though. I like how Flamethrower was that same guitar pattern that Dragon has so I don't have to listen to Dragon to hear it. And as mentioned earlier I very much enjoy the synth riff at the end of Flamethrower as well. It really makes me think hmmmmmmm...

The music videos for PDA are better though. As a fan of scifi gizz, I like how Galea made the dragon a robot, and they seem to actually have more ties into what the song is about. The way he animated the dragon to the guitar is so funny lmao, every time I hear it or that part in flamethrower all I see are its little leggies scurrying back and forth.

tldr: OP feels like ITRN's extinction message is a lot stronger than PDA's is and also that Perihelion is just an awesome song.

#at least I can explain why I prefer PDA over ITRN #some of my opinions on other albums that are popular boils down to “l just don't see what all the hype is about”#KGATLW #king gizzard and the lizard wizard #if I ever make my top 10 king gizzard album video I will get murdered dead by the king gizzard fandom for my opinions on music #The song Change lyrically takes more swings at people than PDA does #meanwhile ITRN is a wrecking ball #BRUH THIS IS SO LONG NOOOOO

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monsterbrush · 6 years

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Hey there, it's the same anon who asked about Slit's love for lizards! Your headcanons were so so cool, I'd love to see more from you! I love the description of how Slit supports his male lizard buddies when they're attempting to present for a female lizard and eventually mate. This mental image made me think, though: if Slit were trying to impress someone, how would he act/what would he do? Once again, your headcanons kicked butt! Thanks so much! :D

I am thrilled you enjoy my ramblings of the crazed Lizard King! So thrilled in fact that I will take this as another opportunity to spew my headcanon thought-gush all over the place!

How does Slit impress someone??? Why, he does pushups of course! Well, maybe not pushups exactly, but regardless of his intentions, whether he’s trying to impress, flirt, or intimidate, it usually involves some display of Slit’s physical prowess. War Boys are all about physical strength and domination, to the point of toxicity, and Slit is no exception, in fact he may very well be the epitome, or something close to it. Nothing Slit does is ever without a little aggression. He is an ever-changing ratio of temptation and aggravation, and it fluctuates with his mood as much as with his environment.

This got a little long. Under the cut is a bunch (like, seriously a lot) of paragraphs of my attempts to study the bizarre social habits of the Lizard King in his natural habitat:

So Slit wants to impress somebody? Maybe that one Imperator whose crew gets all the good privileges? He’ll showcase his skills like an anole showcasing his bright red dewlap, wooing the Imperator and warding off the other War Boys with the best of his abilities to prove his worth. Like a big flashing advertisement from Before, Slit conveys his message through interpretive dance body language “Look at this! You want this! You need this! My skills are useful, LOOK! LOOK! LOOK!”, while at the same time the back of the billboard of Slit is like “Challenge at your own risk. You know you don’t want to mess with this. Messing with this will mess you up. It will make me look better. I want you to mess with me, so I can make you look worse. Do it you fucker! Make my day! FITE ME!”

Now say some other War Boy is stepping on Slit’s turf, sittin on his rock, climbing on his (lancer’s) perch? A challenger approaches! I’m sure we all remember what went down between Slit and Nux when Slit tried to step on Nux’s turf by taking his wheel. All that head bumping and growling? That was pure Slit. That was Slit’s threat display. Now, granted it didn’t work on Nux, and Slit stopped there for REASONS, but I like to imagine Slit does this to other War Boys as well, and if they hold their ground unflinchingly like Nux (which I doubt they would cuz Nux saw it coming and they probably don’t and that shit’s scary he is big and fighty), then Slit would probably escalate the situation into a full blown brawl right there and right then. At that point the victor is whoever comes out on top. Slit is big, strong, healthy, and mean, so he’s got a lot of good things going for him, but fights can be very unpredictable. These fights probably fuel someone’s gambling addiction.

Alright, so now Slit’s tryin’ ta woo somebody? Well, what kind of somebody? Doesn’t really matter to Slit right then. Unless he’s got some seriously significant motivation he’d most likely approach this sort of thing the same way he does with everything else. Hissing, growling, intense eye contact, and lots of flexing. He probably puts a lil something extra in the hips when he moves, sways a lil more, struts a lil more, banking off of what he’s best at like he would when he tries to impress an Imperator. He is an efficient, powerful machine. His billboard is now promoting a sports car to an insecure middle-aged man going through a mid-life crisis with money to spare. “You would love to get with this. Getting with this will make you look good. It will be great. You will be great, because I am great.” He might even move a little slower than he normally would, to give the object of his “affections” the chance to admire his physique, linger a little bit, like a flashy slo-mo reel of that sleek sexy sports car driving through rain in the middle of nowhere—mmm car metaphors…

All that being said, there’s probably a lot of mixed signals, misunderstandings, miscommunications… Slit’s display is equal parts a show and a warning. He’s coming for someone, he is going to get very, very physical, and they don’t always know why. A lot can go wrong. “Is he tryin’ to start somethin’? He’s tryin’ to start somethin’ isn’t he?” Slit is always DTF, be it fuck or fight. It is either one or the other, the odds are 50/50 and they’ve just used their last Before coin as shrapnel for a thunderstick. Someone might end up getting punched—probably Slit, but I cannot imagine a lil tap in the jaw would be enough to turn him off, given that he is a Nasty Lizard who just won’t quit. His off switch is dysfunctional. It is equally possible that a tap in the jaw would turn him on more. Communication is probably severely lacking among War Boys. It will take several more “taps” for Slit to get the message and back off, but I’m sure the recipient of Slit’s wooing will have probably caught on to his intentions by then and decided whether they want the wooing or not. If it is someone familiar with Slit, they will most likely catch on much sooner and (hopefully) have a technique to deter him. Nasty Lizard.

Now, clearly Slit’s sexy lil billboard is aimed at War Boys in the above scenario. They like cars, that’s why I used a car metaphor, I am a literary genius I know, bask in my glory yes har har har, I am secretly a fool. But, back to the topic at hand. This advertisement strategy won’t work on other target audiences like, shall we say, a woman recently freed from an oppressive sexually abusive tyrant, single and not all that ready to mingle, who is probably very not okay with large lizards climbing on top of them and hissing, take that for what you will.

Now, depending on if all things go as right as they possibly can in this scenario, Slit is committed to a long haul wooing and subsequent relationship with aforementioned lady, Slit must change his marketing strategy to appeal to this new audience. The benefits of this are similar to impressing an Imperator, extra privileges go to the ones on their crew but these privileges are extra, extra good, so it’s kinda like Imperators with Benefits which I’m sure Slit would be All For, and it’s probably worth rolling over for someone softer than he is.

Unfortunately this is very not easy for Slit who likes being big and bad and scary and mean. But the power of love lust must prevail! Slit cannot resist showcasing his “assets”, again he must bank on his physicality, but he must do a different sort of display, appeal to what this new target audience wants.

He is very strong and healthy. Why does she not like that? That can’t be right. Maybe he is too scary? (a very conflicting sentiment for Slit). But what if he was only scary to other people and not her? She doesn’t like it when War Boys approach her, so maybe he should stop them from approaching her because he is so scary! Yes! Genius! Such a smart lizard! Look at that impressive dewlap! The sleek sports car becomes a dependable minivan with plenty of trunk space, seats, and a heavily armored, reinforced chassis with spikes to ward of potential threats!

“Look at this!” the billboard of Slit proclaims! “Getting with this will stop anyone else from getting with you! Still not good enough? Well, getting with this will also stop other people from getting with your friends too! Now comes with a bonus feature of messing people up so you don’t have to, and I’ll throw in this complimentary knife so you can gut me if you are displeased with the product and want a refund!” If that doesn’t work, Slit is doomed to extensive, tedious, invasive, possibly painful character development, which I know we all love.

Disclaimer: these headcanons do not apply to everything. Alternate headcanons that emphasize different aspects of the Lizard King are equally valid and some will not support these musings. Things like these and differing character development can easily change the headcanons I have made, and I am totes magotes okay with that and Down To Explore alternate variations of Slit, and I used ‘totes magotes’ completely unironically because that is how passionate I am about this.

#inbox stuff #slit #mmfr #mad max #rambles of cha #mad max headcanons #my headcanons #i use car metaphors and lizard metaphors #the lizard king is a complicated creature #totes magotes okay to reblog

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raeynbowboi · 3 years

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My Thoughts on Big Mouth Season 5

After finishing the fifth season, I think I can say that it is definitively the best season so far. Up until now, I never felt like anything lived up to the good writing of season 2. So, it was amazing to see season 5 step its pussy up and slam it home so effectively. Where season 5 shines the brightest, it gave even a little spotlight to previously irrelevant side characters like Ali, Samira, and Charles Lu. It also felt like everyone was getting something this season, whereas previous seasons sometimes left characters treading water in their development. All things considered, the pacing was great, and the characters' individual stories played off of each other nicely. The season has tight writing and I have to point out how well they did it this season to all tie into a central theme. It's also kind of fitting that at the end of the day, the events that triggered all the hate... were really insignificant and petty things that an immature 12 year old WOULD take that seriously, but also kinda lets the characters admit they made a mountain out of a mole hill. I laughed much more than I did in season 4.

The biggest problem I with season 5 is that it tried to wrap up too much in one episode. The Christmas episode was pointless filler, and should have been cut to split the finale into two episodes to keep the ending from feeling rushed. Especially the extremely rushed Matthew and Jay thing. Matthew confesses feelings, basically their next scene, Jay drives the car, they fight, and then Matthew shows up to New Years to win Jay back? All in the span of one episode? It's too short. The weight isn't allowed to settle, and as a result, there's no impact. It's just kind of white noise. It doesn't really sound like anything and it's better off tuned out. Matthew and Jay crashing the car should have been the end of one episode and then show them missing each other to where them getting back together is paced better. It's like playing Yo-yo with the audience's investment. Matthew and Jay get together, break up, and get together again in the span of a single episode with no breathing room between relationship beats.

I love not only that Shane Lizard made a glorious return in the second episode, but that he played a vital positive role in the finale. Proving that his rhetoric of a little dose of shame being a good thing actually holds weight.

This is the first season to not mention Andrew's cousin, and I for one am relieved. I never want that joke to show up again.

I'm glad the Lea sex scene returned to using more abstract imagery as a metaphor. I was not comfortable with Jessi being in the presence of Michaelangelo's talking penis. Even the stylized Jay and Lola fingering was a little too on the nose for my liking. So the return to more abstract symbolism was a welcome relief.

I really enjoyed Diane and Elliot having a fight this season. They’ve rarely ever fought, and this felt like the kind of thing they would realistically fight about, and both of them have a point. It feels appropriate for their characters.

Andrew bonding with his father was nice. It was the first time that Marty felt like a real person, not just a punchline. Andrew trying to break the cycle of anger in his family was a welcome change.

Before it developed that Charles wasn’t really interested in an open relationship with Jay, I actually really liked the chemistry that had been developing between them. To the point that I thought maybe the show was building up to a Matthew vs Charles thing. Who knows? Maybe we’ll see that later on.

It’s interesting that they didn’t wrap up the Charles Lu affair this season, which means they’re probably saving it for next season. It’ll be nice for Gina to be relevant again.

I’m kind of tired of Nick not really developing as a character. Nick pretty much hasn’t changed since season 2. Connie became his hormone monstress and he became a sensitive, emotional bitch for a few seasons, accepted himself for who he is, reclaimed Rick as his hormone monster... and still is acting the exact same as he did with Connie. All that writing about accepting himself and not turning into Nick Star did little when he turns into a hateful little shit. I’m just kind of tired of Nick being the lead anchor among the main cast.

Not a fan of what happened to Devon. He’s teased for Missy, he’s put off by her backne, he smashes the abandoned house with the guys, and then the next thing we see, he’s scampered back to Devin. I had hoped he was going to get developed, but instead, he just backslid into his old role again.

So, is Jessi still going to therapy? My biggest problem with Big Mouth is its inability to keep up ongoing plot points. Jessi going to therapy is brought up in season 3, she goes to therapy once in season 4, and then it’s never mentioned again. I wanted for therapy to be an ongoing thing for Jessi, even if it’s just for a little while. It makes it seem like she only needed one session to clear up all of her problems, and that’s just not realistic.

So. Andrew got a crush on his teacher, stalked him, and threatened his fiancée. Was I supposed to find this funny? Because it very much was not funny. Bernie Sanders, on the other hand, was funny. I liked her.

#Big Mouth #big mouth season 5 #nick kroll #maury #connie #hormone monster #netflix #nick birch #love bug #hate worm

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hinerdsitscat · 2 years

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Eurovision 2022 as Chris Fleming/Gayle Quotes

Last year I did various Eurovision acts as John Mulaney quotes so this year I thought I’d try a different Comedian Who Deals In Weird Metaphors.

Austria (Lumix feat. Pia Maria, “Halo”)

Bulgaria (Intelligent Music Project, “Intention”)

Croatia (Mia Dimšić, “Guilty Pleasure”)

Cyprus (Andromache, “Ela”)

Czech Republic (We Are Domi, “Lights Off”)

Estonia (Stefan, “Hope”)

Finland (The Rasmus, “Jezebel”)

France (Alvan & Ahez, “Fulenn”)

Georgia (Circus Mircus, “Lock Me In”)

Iceland (Systur, “Með hækkandi sól”)

Ireland (Brooke, “That’s Rich”)

Israel (Michael Ben David, “I.M.”)

Latvia (Citi Zēni, “Eat Your Salad”)

Lithuania (Monika Liu, “Sentimentai”)

Malta (Emma Muscat, “I Am What I Am”)

Moldova (Zdob și Zdub & Advahov Brothers, “Trenulețul”)

Norway (Subwoolfer, “Give That Wolf a Banana”)

Poland (Ochman, “River”)

Romania (WRS, “Llámame”)

San Marino (Achille Lauro, “Stripper”)

Serbia (Konstrakta, “In Corpore Sano”)

Slovenia (LPS, “Disko”)

Spain (Chanel, “SloMo”)

Switzerland (Marius Bear, “Boys Do Cry”)

Ukraine (Kalush Orchestra, “Stefania”)

There were more acts this year, but due to time I couldn’t get to them all.

Image Text/Sources:

First Image: “Where do you think we are, Italy?” (source: “Davis II”)

Austria: “And everyone’s looking at me like I’m at an Eyes Wide Shut party uninvited.” (source: “Baby Got Back Brings Out The Worst in People”)

Bulgaria: “They should invent something for guys with this kind of affliction, like a VR system where he can believe he’s in a perpetual state of giving you a tour of his house.” (source: “W.U.G”)

Croatia: “Too bad he was married.” (source: “Showpig”)

Cyprus: “NYU is just girls in fedoras trying to get addicted to cigarettes.” (source: “NYU”)

Czech Republic: “Terry if you haven’t made your bed, throw it away, it’s too late to make it now!” (source: “COMPANY IS COMING”)

Estonia: “Hi, I’d like to report a stolen horse? Actually, don’t worry about it.” (source: “Valentine’s Day”)

Finland: “It’s very apparent that they haven’t seen the light of day since ‘94.” (source: “Gayle - Episode 38: Lizard People”)

France: (description: person standing in the woods screaming) (source: “Meeting Boyfriends”)

Georgia: “Why do I feel like that guy washes his hands with strawberry milk?” (source: “Gigi the Christmas Snake”)

Iceland: “Enough turquoise to get into Stevie Nicks’ house (no questions asked).” (source: “Sick Jan”)

Ireland: “I’m like ‘preteen at her Bat Mitzvah disassociating doing “Greased Lightning” choreography.” (source: “Showpig”)

Israel: “I should have known how you kept going on about ‘how welcoming the burlesque community’s been.” (source: “Polyamorous”)

Latvia: “But I was off my face on Terra Juice, so I didn’t know right from wrong.” (source: “Gayle - Episode 3: The Movies”)

Lithuania: “And on ‘sexy chanteuse,’ she punched me so hard in the jaw that I flew against a piano.” (source: “Showpig”)

Malta: “Those aren’t freaks, those are attractive people with heavily-vetted idiosyncrasies.” (source: “St Vincent, Crazy Pete and Kevin Magee”)

Moldova: “He thinks his vibe is all ‘Don Draper’ when it’s really more ‘Hertz Rent-a-Car’.” (source: “W.U.G.”)

Norway: “It may look like a 2010 Corolla, but it’s not: that is in fact his spaceship.” (source: “My Day with the Alien”)

Poland: “Zero qualms about going full Streetcar Named Desire at 2PM at a Bertucci’s.” (source: “Am I a Man?”)

Romania: “I have never just had a twosome.” (source: “Gary Johnson Ad”)

San Marino: “And the boyfriend’s jazzing around, all proud of himself, like a seagull who just pulled off a Dorito heist at the beach.” (source: “What To Do If Your Boyfriend Proposes on Christmas Eve”)

Serbia: “For 51 years of my life, I walked around looking like the leader of a jazz band, until one day, by a freak accident, I messed up in the shower and I used dog shampoo. Sure, I was humiliated, but Terry: the results.” (source: “Gayle - Episode 22: Beef Hutchins”)

Slovenia: “How nice would it be to have the confidence of a teenage coffee drinker?” (source: “Teens Who Drink Coffee”)

Spain: “And he had this big ass, this big proud ass, this Christmas goose, this terrific bassoon player’s ass!” (source: “St Vincent, Crazy Pete and Kevin Magee”)

Switzerland: “You know a guy got into Radiohead too young if even his pocket rejects him.” (source: “Polyamorous”)

Ukraine: “I’m like the kid at the school dance wearing the bucket hat, grinding with the fire extinguisher.” (source: “Gary Johnson Ad”)

Closing Image: “You think that shit happens to John Mulaney?” (source: “Davis II”)

#eurovision #eurovision song contest #eurovision 2022 #esc 2022 #text post meme #chris fleming #chris fleming quotes #gayle #gayle series #image described

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enigma-im · 4 years

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Crocodile Rock

Rating: Explicit Relationship: Lizard Man X Female!Human Warning: sexual drought, minor stalking, kidnapping, sex on a mountain, Oral, monster sex, loss of control, scenting, ovulation

Word count: 3660

A monster prowling the streets of a suburban neighborhood. A girl in a bit of a dry spell is driving him crazy.

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One would think that going most of your life without sex would make going a few months without it easy. I'd imagine the metaphor for food would make sense. If you never had spaghetti before you can't crave it, you can want it but not really desire it. I also just compared sex to spaghetti, I really need to get laid.

I believe the last time I was intimate, not even had sex, with someone was almost a year ago. It is fine for the most part, hardly noticed it till recently. Work has kept me busy so it wasn’t a great loss. Now that I have more free time all I crave is the touch of another. Reading hasn’t done me any favors either. Its been a mess of a time.

As I spiral in the depth of frustration I have been noticing the presence of someone watching me. It was easy to brush off at first but once I started seeing strange things do I become worried. In the morning when I'd walk to my car to go to work id catch a pair of glowing eyes in the woods opposite my house. The first time I assumed it was the neighbors' house lights, boy was I wrong. When I come back home and rechecked I saw there were no lights. Next came the sightings and talk around the area. People caught sight of a huge man walking about. Other added on saying it wasn’t a man but a monster, having scales and sharp teeth. I hardly believed any of that until I caught sight of him when looking at my backyard.

I stood in the kitchen and looked out the window at my poorly kept yard. It desperately needed a trim and grooming. I wonder who will be doing that cause its definitely not me. As I was about to walk away with my fresh cup of cocoa I see a shadow move under the trees. I squint and lean against the sink to get a better look. It was big, that was easy enough to decipher. It stepped over my fence and walked towards the back porch. Once it was close enough, the motion sensors caught it. We both stood frozen after that.

Tall was my immediate thought. Big, hulking, scaled, were my next ones. This… thing… looks like a lizard to simplify things. It was covered in dark green and brown scales and had some spikes coming out the back of its head. Before I could detail more it ran out of the yard and into the dark.

"Well fuck me," I grumble in shock. I didn’t particularly know how else to react after seeing that. Big damn lizard in my yard heading to my back door. It felt like watching one of the lost tape videos on YouTube. That creepy feeling crawling up your spine that may turn into a flight or fight response. I shivered at the time, standing in the kitchen for an uncomfortable amount of time.

It's about two weeks after the incident that I am heading back home from work. The day was harsh and aggravating. Not sure why I scheduled a date for today. Just because its Friday, doesn’t mean I'm not tired. still, my sexual drought hasn’t done much for my growing stress around the mystery in the neighborhood. I think I've caught it out the corner of my eye often after seeing him. Always lurking in the woods like some stalker. It's unnerving but I can't help to an awful fantasy of being watched while gratifying myself at night. I won't lie and say I've never thought about it, opening my windows so the lizard man could catch an eyeful. Of course, I haven't don’t it but I feel its only a matter of time.

I make it home with phantom pains in my stomach. Always around ovulation do I get these little pains, about a 2/10 on the scale but still noticeable. Fingers crossed that my date goes well so I won't have to come home and use the detachable shower head to get some peace. I pull into the driveway and shuffle about collecting all my things in the car. I open up the door as I shove my phone into my pocket. Before I could slam the door shut I hear a loud snap in the woods. It wasn’t like a twig being stepped on but more of a branch being broken. The sound echoes over the mountain and bounces off the trees. The noise sending a chill down my spine.

"ok," I grumble in comfort. I quickly shut the door and speed walk to the front door. As I grab the handle I pause. A crawling feeling runs up my spine. I freeze like a deer caught in headlights. A primal feeling of fright gripping my brain. I can't put my finger on it or even explain the reasoning until a puff of air pushes against the back of my neck. I stop breathing.

Out the corner of my eye, I see a large hand slowly reach out and press against the door. On the other side, I see another hand grab mine and gently take it off the handle. Taking in small gasps of air, I do as it says. The heat of the thing behind me increases as it crowds me to the door. I look up at the glass and try to make out the reflection. I gulp when I realize what it is.

I watch him lean down toward my neck and inhale a greedy breath, letting it out in a pleasing growl. I find myself whimpering right after. His hand still holding mine trails up my arm, stopping at my elbow. Slowly, he traces his nails over to my stomach, flattening his hand to cover almost all of me. He pets his thumb just under my bra and releases another growl.

In a flash, his hand tightens and pulls me back. He grabs me and twists me so he can throw me stomach first over his shoulder. I cough as the breath is punched out of me. We twist and in a dizzying speed, he runs away from my house. My chest bounces against his back as he runs us into the woods. Tree passes us in blurring speed till we stop at a short sharp incline of the mountain. Keeping a strong hold he grips the rock and catapults himself upwards.

He climbs up to a flat space high up over the neighborhood. He walks over to a clear space surrounded by trees, stopping and settling me in the flattened grass. I rest on my back feeling like a dog showing its stomach as I get a good look at him. His features are sharp and aggressive. His eyes are extremely dilated, or his pupils are always that big. His teeth are bared in a snarl and a bit of drool dribbles out the corner of his mouth. I don’t know how to interrupts this, is he going to eat me?

"Please," I whimper while trying to sit up. He growls as he quickly presses his hand to my chest, forcing me back down into the dirt. I follow with minimal complaint, too scared to deny him. The man lowers himself with me, settling on his hand so he can press his face close. Startling me he presses his nose to my neck and sucks in another deep inhale, releasing a deep breath with a rumbling purr. His tongue slithers out and licks up around my collar. I accidentally cry out at the warm press of his mouth. He seems to startle as well, jumping back with a gasp. He looks down at me for a moment before he shakes his head vigorously, seeming to clear his mind.

I yelp when he grabs at my pants, jerking at them. I jump up but he makes me fall back as he jerks again. Quickly he rips my bottoms down and tosses them aside. His palms glide up over my thighs, parting them as he nears my crotch. I keen in protest, trying to buck away with a flush face. Our eyes meet as he settles on his stomach. He sneers with a growl, gripping my legs tightly in command. Stay still. I settle in panic, resting on my back with a strange mix of anticipation.

His fingers settle in the cleft of my thigh, massaging gently as his breath ghosts over me. I clench my fist to my sides, refusing to look. I yelp when his tongue runs a slow stripe up my crotch. He grunts loudly as his head rest against my pelvis. I feel a dribble of drool splash onto my hip as he shakes his head slowly, perhaps overwhelmed with the experience. Without warning he licks again, dipping inside before sliding his full length up and over my clit. I choke on my breath, clenching my stomach with a white jolt pierces up my spine. He wastes no time going for thirds, taking his time to taste everything he can.

I can't ignore the sharp pulses of arousal drenching over me. I have never cared for slow but he is making it work. Feels like he is worshiping the experience, worshiping me. His tongue invades me and I can't stop the soft moan escaping my lips. He groans along with me, vibrating my thighs as he does. His fingers dig into my skin, no doubt leaving marks. He laps at me like a dog before using his lips to suck on my cunt. The scales on his chin rub over my rear and entrance, the sensation is different but not unwelcomed. I feel myself bucking against him and ignoring any previous protest I had. I let my body enjoy his assaults, even going as far as to watch him.

"Yes, fuck," I sit upon my elbows, my head dropping to my shoulder. His eyes meet mine with an intoxicating amount of enjoyment. Glad we are both on the same page. His eyes roll back as he adjusts his hold, shoving his tongue inside. His fingers then glide around to finger at my clit. "Ah, yes, please," I cry out. I watch as he drinks from me, rolling my hips into him as I near my end. I whimper out pleads, falling back onto my back as I arch into him.

"Please, please, please," I chant. His growls push me over the edge, bucking and squirming into him as I cum. He licks up everything I offer as I dig my fingers into the dirt. My fist ripping up the grass as I cry out.

As I fall he sits up and watches. I roll my head back and forth against the ground, whispering thank you. He is the first person to give me an orgasm in nearly a year. That thought should be sobering but all I can think is, he is kind of cute. For a giant lizard, he did great, better than most, if not all, my exes.

Once I come down I sit up and look at him. He isn't looking up at me, well he is looking down. Motion catches my eye and I look down at his hand wrapped around his cock, and what a cock it is indeed. He is hung like a soda can, thick as all hell. His hand is teasing along his length as he eyes my crotch. He passes a quick glance up at me, his look seems debauched if not predatory. I quirk a brow at him as I try to stray off a smile. I kind of want him inside me, I won't lie. I didn’t imagine I was this desperate for sex but here I lie, ready to plead for him.

I look from him to his crotch, spreading my legs a bit as I lick my lips. This breaks his last strand of control as he grabs at me. He clutches my hips and slides me so his tip rests against my entrance. With no preamble, he bucks forward with a loud growl. Not ready for him to go full hilt I fall back to the dirt with a clenched yelp.

"Jesus," I huff. He takes no time wildly thrusting into me. His hips clapping at mine, leaving my thoughts scattered. Sweet fuck I might die. His cock stretches me like no other. His claws piercing my skin a bit as he slams in and out. Wanting to see what's happening I sit upon my elbows again.

I watch his hips roll, ending with a sharp snap. His stomach muscles pull taunt then flow with his movements. I'm in rapture watching his motions, feeling the effects of his actions. Sitting on my elbows I watch his thick cock pound quickly into me. His cock pulling out swiftly before bucking forward. My face clenches up as I think too much on it, feeling him rub against my walls. I want to look up at him, see what this creature's face looks like when taking me so quick and hard. Yet I can't bring myself to look away from this erotic sight. I hardly notice this keening sound coming from my throat, I also hardly care.

"Fuck, please," I cry as I fall back into the dirt. His grunt and growls echo up the mountain. With a quick squeeze to my hips, he falls forwards on to his hands, hovering over me with a sneer. His bucking picks up pace, slapping against my hips with loud claps. He bares his teeth down at me, his eye nearly clenching shut. The sight is anything but ghastly. His monstrous snarling with his beast-like thrust is all the more arousing.

"Fuck-," I try to whine out a name but nothing comes to mind. The acknowledgment that this beast is using me like a sex toy hits hard. I don’t know anything about him, except how well he can eat a girl out. The taboo of fucking some strange monster in the woods is erotic, like some over the top romance novel. I can't help but squeeze around him with a fluttering of tension. He clenches his eyes close and stutters in his thrust. Soon he falls forward onto his forearms, hanging his head near my neck. I can hear his panting breath and grunts clearer now.

"Heath," I hear him huff out. I lazily swing my head to the side, eyeing him confused. He watches with a side-eye. I can't help but squeeze again when I notice that I'm bouncing with him. "Heath," he growls again.

"Heath," I mumble out around heavy breaths. As he hears me he drops his forehead to the ground and bucks harder into my hips. I choke on a gasp as it feels like his cock is in my stomach. "Fuck, Heath," I growl out between clenched teeth. I find myself reaching out for something sturdy, grabbing at his biceps near my shoulders. As I call his name again he grunts and groans. His noises sound delightful next to my ear. I squeeze around him as I listen, fighting off my nearing peak just to prolong this experience.

I can feel everything. The way the head of his cock leads the way deep inside me. The sensation of his scales rubbing against my hands and thighs. I can feel the air puffing from his heavy panting, brushing my hair slightly. I hold on to every sensation until I can't take it anymore. "Heath, shit- you-… Fuck," I try to speak. My brain seemingly mush as I cry out, hearing my whines echo over the mountains. No doubt startling some of the residences below.

Quickly everything turns white. My hearing becomes a ringing as I suddenly stop screaming. My mouth opens in a silent yell. My insides clench around his impressive length, making him stutter in his thrust. I clench his arms with a vice grip, listening to his short whines as he frantically pounds into me. He takes all he can get before slamming once more. He stills, his breath caught in his throat. I feel his hot load jet into me, coating my insides with his seed. Giving just one final buck we both lay silent. His face buried to my neck and my hands gripping him tightly.

Neither of us moves, still coming back into our own and catching our breaths. I relax my hold and tilt my head back with a content sigh. That was amazing.

Heath startles me by pressing his face to my neck. Licking a short stripe up to my ear. I can feel his chest rumble with a soft purr. His satisfied behavior is pleasing in an almost primal way. I trail my hands up his arms, over his shoulders, and down to his chest. I press my palm to him, feeling his vibrations.

"Jesus, you have been driving me insane all week. I tried taking myself in my hand but it didn’t work, your cunt was the perfect cure," he growls out next to my ear. It's startling, if not embarrassing, to finally hear his voice. Well, hear it in a full sentence anyway.

What he says is still a bit concerning, "I've been driving you crazy?"

"Yes, your scent was too potent. My little sexually frustrated female, practically screaming for my cock," he rubs his nose to my cheek, licking and kissing as he does.

I push his head away while trying to bite down on my smile, "I was not, you big brute." he finally sits up, cocking an eyebrow down at me.

"Right, shall we make a repeat performance than? I will have you begging in the dirt in seconds," his smug face is both charming and annoying.

"Cocky aren't we?"

"Only when I'm right," he grins. He settles back on his forearms, pressing gentle kisses around my face. It’s a strange contrast to his previous domineering actions. Despite my denial, he did have me screaming into the dirt like some kind of whore. I won't lie and say it was unpleasant or unwanted but I will say it would have been nice to know his name beforehand. Not everyone can say that they found out someone's name when it was growled into their ear while that someone's big cock was rearranging their organs. That would be weird if it was a common thing, be concerned about today's way of life if that were the case.

Without warning, Heath grabs my hips and tilts us sideways. He is on his back, cradling me to his front. Letting out a content sigh that ruffles my hair, he closes his eyes. I rest my palms to his chest a bit perplexed. Is he going to sleep? What a typical man. With a roll of my eyes, I rest my chin on his sternum, just observing this strange beast. As I too begin to fall captive to the grips of sleep I remember my plans for tonight. Instead of catching some comforting rest, I begin to rouse with questions.

"Now what?"

His eyes peak open, "Now what?"

"I need to get back home, I have a date tonight I need to get cleaned up for," I clarify. It seems wrong to go out after being thoroughly fucked on the plateau of a mountain but I can't imagine this is going to form into something more. A taboo rendezvous that won't result in a committed relationship.

He still surprises me by saying, "Date? Not anymore."

I regard him confused, "hmm?"

"No man is taking you away, I will state my intent right now. I will have you again, and again, and again because you are mine," his fingers dig into my naked hips. A growl rumbling from his chest into mine. I'm not put off by the idea, far from it, but I won't make it easy for him.

"I don’t remember agreeing to that," I answer in a cheek to tongue way.

"You agreed when you took my cock," he counters with a wicked smirk.

"I feel there wasn’t much say in that. Didn’t exactly ask," I pretend to ponder.

"Why would I need to when you were begging so beautifully? I couldn’t prolong our torture by asking. Also, I don’t think I could have arranged enough words into a coherent sentence with your arousal surrounding my nose," he sits up and rubs his face into my neck. I can feel his sharp teeth grazing along my collar. It was a fair point, not a good one but a pleasing one.

"I'll let it slide, this time. I expect to be properly courted, don’t need some brute coming in and just staking his claim," I submit, not without my own demands. He stops his assault and leans back with an annoyed look.

"You are exhausting," he thumps his head back to the ground.

"Maybe you shouldn’t have thought with your prick before your brain then," I poke to the top of his head.

"What can I say, he made a good choice," he chuckles.

"I can agree with that," I answer as I rest my cheek to his chest, tracing some of his scales with my finger.

"Then we agree, you are mine," he asks with a large grin. I look up at him, my lips quirking at his full toothy smile.

"As long as you are mine," I shoot back.

"I was yours the minute I got to taste your cunt," his smile goes from playful to teasing. His fingers trailing down to cup my ass.

"Brute and vulgar," I can't help but laugh.

"Shut up, you love it," he purrs. His hands grope and squeeze my rear, his tongue lapping along my neck. If he keeps this up I may be partial to another round.

I grin like a fool, "perhaps."

----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- This is almost exactly how a dream of mine went. only difference is i woke up before he said anything. Bruh was hella hung, miss him.

check out my Archive. Have a peak at my Main Blog.

#Enigma-IM #monster boyfriend #lizard man #exophilia #crocodile rock #kidnapping #reader insert #Heath

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you-guys--are-losers · 4 years

Note

HI! For your kissing prompt list can you please do number 37 or 38 for Peter Parker x Michelle Jones. Thank you! ❤❤

//You got it! Thanks for the prompt! ;) We’re gonna start this morning off with some fluff. XD

37: Awkward teenage crush kiss

Lots to Learn

Summary: In the wake of a huge disappointment, Peter and MJ learn a few things about what it means to be there for each other.

Characters: Peter Parker x Michelle Jones

Wordcount: 2,303

Warnings: Fluff, Disappointment, Cult References (As Always)

It’s been a good day for Peter since the beginning, even though it’s a hard one for her.

Peter gets the text at 7:30 in the morning. He’s a morning person; even on a weekend, there’s no way he ever makes it past seven before he is awoken by his body. This is something MJ knows, and so his first instinct when he hears her text tone is to grin to himself. The second thought, which follows immediately after, is concern.

She almost always stays up until 3 AM writing on the weekends… Why would she be texting him this early? As Peter fumbles for his phone where it lies on his cluttered desk, another text from MJ comes in. As soon as he sees the messages, his heart sinks.

Hey. I didn’t get in. I’m fine.

Then, two minutes later:

I’m not. Come over

He was there in ten minutes.

At his insistence, the day since then has been a blur of MJ’s favorite things. Doing each other’s nails in dark colors while they watch Don’t Fuck With Cats in the dark of her room, something that they’ve been doing more and more since they returned from Europe. At first, MJ is mostly quiet, but by the time they’re half an hour in and Peter has finally finished painting her nails dark purple, there is the ghost of a smile on her face as she examines the bumpy polish.

After that, it’s people-watching on a park bench with middle-eastern street food, placing bets on who is most likely to be a serial killer and making up outlandish backstories for the most normal-looking people. Then, Peter convinces May to let him take the car out so that they can drive to the Mysterious Book Store, MJ’s favorite spot. On the way there, they listen to MJ’s favorite conspiracy podcast (”Lizard People”); on the way back it’s MJ’s mix of music, which Peter is never opposed to, as they banter over who made the better purchase. Then, it’s back to her place, where Peter is currently in the process of cleaning up after their dinner mess.

MJ is fiddling with her laptop, trying to illegally download the documentary she has been telling him about for weeks that he never got around to actually watching, when he finally breaches the topic.

“So,” he mentions, his voice rising slightly in pitch as he sets the pan they used for stir fry in the dishwasher. “Are you… Y’know. Are you okay?”

Even with her back to him, Peter can see MJ’s shoulders stiffen from the sofa. There is quiet between them for a minute as Peter puts their forks away, but it is not an uncomfortable one. It’s the kind of silence he’s grown accustomed to since he and MJ have started spending more time together: a pensive quiet. Sometimes, MJ needs a minute to put her thoughts together. Ever since she first expressed the need for it, Peter’s grown to appreciate it more and more.

Right now, though, that appreciation is mingled with concern.

After a second, MJ quietly exhales from on the sofa, turning her body slightly so that she is looking into the kitchen while he puts in the dish soap. The machine has started to whir softly before she finally answers, brown eyes watching him intently.

“I mean, I’m disappointed. But I think I will be.” Her tone is quiet, measured. Still, Peter can hear the slight catch in her throat on the word ‘think,’ and his eyes met hers, holding her gaze. She quirks the corner of her lips up into a small, slightly sad smile, asking him not to mention it. He nods and lets out a breath, straightening up and heading to her little box of loose-leaf tea, which she has painted with dark foliage.

Despite the heaviness to her gaze, a quiet, thankful gratitude sparks in those eyes as MJ follows the movement. “The middle finger mug. It’ll help me maturely manage my feelings.”

Peter’s snort of amusement causes her little smile turn into a smirk, and her shoulders relax as he retrieves the mug and lightly scoops some of her lavender tea into it. No diffuser for her– MJ likes the texture of the wet leaves, something she has always insisted vehemently. However, Peter fills one of the tiny metal contraptions up with his cinnamon chai, and then sets his Ruth Bader-Ginsburg to steep on the counter beside the mug she requested, which is currently flipping the kitchen off.

Peter rests his back against the counter, facing her in the quiet for a second. Her wicked smirk softens slightly as they take the moment to just look at one another across the warm light of her parents’ apartment, breathing each other in. She’s told him about how empty it feels here when her parents are gone for work (so all the time); since then, he’s made every effort to be here as often as he can. They’ve built a friendship here, learning each others’ rhythms and preferences. Sometimes, they’ve built a little more than that… Her head on his shoulder when she falls asleep to a move, her fingers tentatively stroking his hair when he collapses on the sofa beside her after a patrol night.

Even now, in this moment of disappointment, they’re building something strong– stronger than rejection.

“Maybe it’s good.” MJ speaks up, causing Peter to lurch out of his thoughts, out of the dark eyes he’s grown to love drowning in.

“Huh?”

“Berkeley,” Michelle hums, amused as she shoots him another smirk. “I mean… It’s California. Far. Bard is closer.”

“Right, totally,” Peter says quickly to show he’s paying attention. “Besides, you know, California people… Lots of, uh, social media influencers and stuff.” He’s really just citing his stereotypical knowledge of the West Coast, but MJ seems to appreciate the effort.

“Yeah. A ton of people pretending that everything is perfect,” MJ agrees. “I’d probably suffocate. And really hot, too.”

“But you’re always cold,” Peter finds himself saying, bemused.

MJ shoots him a look, but she seems to find the comment funny. “Not helping, Peter. Come on, at least try to slander this place with me.”

“Right, sorry.” Peter can’t help his grin as she turns back to her laptop, responding to the ‘ping’ of its tinny speakers telling her that her piracy is complete. “Well, slander sounds good to me… With our drinks, of course. Wait, we could spill tea both literally and metaphorically.”

“Peter…”

Peter grins as he picks up the cups, back to her once more as he tries to balance the heated mugs so that they will neither spill nor burn his hands off. “Sorry, sorry. I know terrible puns won’t help right now. Though, I don’t really know if they would help ever-”

“Peter.”

There is something in her voice, which has gone deathly quiet, that causes Peter to turn a little too fast. He winces as the cinnamon-scented tears of Satan splash onto his skin, but as he quickly sets down the mug his eyes do not leave the back of her head, which is frozen above stiffened shoulders.

“MJ, are you…”

“Peter, I got in.”

There is a moment of silence, and the only sound is the dripping of the tea that Peter spilled slipping over the lid of the counter-top. Peter is frozen for a moment, eyes wide as he looks to where she is sitting. After a moment, he finds his voice.

“But, I thought-”

“There was a mistake with my email,” MJ says, turning to face him. Her eyes are wide, and though she is clearly trying to stay calm, the speed of her tone and the smile that bursts through no matter what betray her emotions.

“They got me mixed up with another Michelle Jones. Apparently it’s a common name, but I think it’s more likely the government was trying to suppress my voice by restricting my access to higher education-”

“MJ.” This time it’s Peter’s turn to interrupt, a grin edging across his lips as his eyes take in her dancing eyes. “You got in.”

A laugh bubbles from Michelle’s throat, wild and incredulous and something that sounds like a dream. “I got in.” She says the words once, testing them out on her lips, and apparently liking the way they feel. “I got in!”

“You got in.”

In an instant, she is tripping over herself to get off her sofa, and Peter is racing across the kitchen to meet her in the hug that she initiates. Her arms wrap around his neck as his circle her upper back, holding her tight as she laughs. For a moment, he holds her close his eyes squeezing shut as she wraps her arms tighter around her neck.

After a few heartbeats of pure elation, Peter pulls back just slightly. MJ does the same, her eyes holding pure light in the dim glow of her living room lamp, and her arms do not leave his neck. The two stand together in the embrace, and suddenly Peter feels his heartbeat increase as he comes to a realization.

He… Wants to kiss her.

Peter bites his lip, catching his breath, and MJ’s eyes flicker down to his mouth before returning to his own. There is something more than just excitement now… A tentative, uncertain glimmer of something deeper, and understanding.

The two of them haven’t kissed since returning from Europe. They’ve held hands, they’ve sat next to each other and given little touches and even snuggled a bit closer for warmth. But they’ve been taking it slow; MJ doesn’t like labels, and Peter’s happy to just explore what they are and save the kiss they’ve already shared for the moments when he feels like he can’t keep going.

But now, he can’t seem to suppress the urges he is feeling: to bring a hand to her cheek, to brush the few wisps of hair that have fallen into her eyes away using a gentle touch. And, based on the way her hands come to rest, brushing the base of his neck, he thinks that she just might feel the same.

“I’m happy for you,” he whispers, trying not to think about the lack of distance between them.

“Y-yeah,” MJ breathes, lips slightly parted as she looks down at him. “You know, Scientology first started in Southern California, and the Manson Murders were in L.A. So if I get any offers to join a cult, I’ll totally make sure that they’re willing to recruit you.”

Peter laughs softly, but his eyes don’t leave hers. Lightly, her fingers relax at the nape of his neck, cradling it gently. He catches his breath as her thumb carefully strokes the skin there, and he can tell she notices by the way she holds her own breathing.

“MJ… Can I kiss you?”

There is a moment of quiet between them as her finger stops caressing the back of his neck and she stares inscrutably into his eyes. Peter blinks several times, cheeks warming.

“I mean, it’s okay if-if not. I’m happy for you either way, and I just… I’m crazy proud of you, even though they’d be stupid not to accept you really, and I-”

Her lips come down to meet his before he can dig himself into a deeper hole.

It’s their first kiss since the bridge in England, and as his eyes flutter closed Peter is worried that maybe he’s doing it wrong. At first, it’s not quite the right angle– she’s taller, for one, and it takes a second to bring their lips together so that they fit against one another.

The kiss is hesitant, gentle… Experimental. Peter knows Michelle, and he knows that it takes her a moment to get comfortable in new experiences. This is new for him, too, so it’s good to take it slow. Her mouth is soft against his own, careful, and at first it’s just a gentle brushing of their lips.

Then she kisses him again, and this time it’s more insistent. They’ve started to figure it out: where their noses need to go, how to hold themselves. One of her hands gently moves up the back of his neck, gently sliding her fingers into his curls. The other comes to cradle his cheek as his own hands lightly tug her upper back closer, offering support.

It’s perfect. It’s new and it’s a kiss of growing, of learning each others’ angles and contours and keeping them in mind. It’s the lemon-flavored Italian soda they had with dinner, it’s MJ’s beeswax lip balm, it’s the feeling of his hoodie swallowing her slim shoulders beneath his fingers. It’s the quiet of her apartment and the soft hum of appreciation that travels from her lips to his before they gently part, foreheads resting together to take a breath.

Peter keeps his eyes closed for a moment, and when they flutter open they find her deep, dark irises peering into his curiously. There’s a shy grin on her lips, but though both are a bit bashful, she’s not hiding.

She’s letting him look, letting him see her in a way that no one else gets to. For all of her walls and her mystery, MJ is inviting Peter to read her story and to stand by her side as she writes it.

She’s sharing one of the biggest moments of her life with him, and Peter has never been so grateful.

When Peter closes the distance between them once more, her raspy laugh against his lips tastes like home. In the warmth of her apartment, free of pressure and labels and prying eyes, Peter is happy to prompt many more soft laughs, to explore the place he has found at her side for as long as she’ll let him.

Taglist: @eniemeanie @inlovewithtoomanythings @booksarelife-stuff @AlexanderThyGreat @flawless-tlc @heynowitsafangirl @but-saving-what-we-love @haurasha @friendly-spoodermin @lundya366 @nicolewithasoul @1am9root @spiderkaren

#spideychelle #michelle jones #peter parker #michelle jones x peter parker #spideychelle fanfiction #fluff #kiss #original work

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sleepless-in-starbucks · 5 years

Text

Dear Universe

Read on Ao3

Summary: Logan doesn't have a lot to love at the moment. Other than stars and cats. But if he'll give it time, the universe will still be there, waiting for his second letter... Warnings: A vague mention of a character having once contemplated suicide. Very, very vague though. Also this made me soft which I think is illegal so warnings for the fic being a criminal Pairing: Logince Author’s note: I know I have a losleep fic to finish but... idk y’all I was just super soft and I had to do this instead. Tagging @rosesisupposes because that one post she reblogged inspired this, @blinksinbewilderment because it’s Logan-centric and not really angsty, and @inkskinned because the post that overall inspired this came from them

Dear universe,

Hello. I am writing to inform you that you did a good job on the stars. Also on cats.

Yours respectfully,

Me.

Logan glared at the note, simple and small and neatly scrawled on the back of an old envelope. It was stupid. It was rather sentimental as well. But some days there were only a few good things in the world, and on those days Logan had learned it was better to offer any resistance to the current than none.

And today, if all he loved was the stars and his cat, then it was better to remember that then not. With a sigh, Logan tossed the envelope in a drawer.

Well. He had tried that. Good thing he’d never have to do it again.

Dear universe,

Logan’s hand paused. This was as silly as when he had done it five years ago. The fact that he had stumbled over the envelope on accident while deciding what was going to come on the move and he had been struck by the urge to give it a proper follow-up was illogical and foolish.

And yet he had gotten the pen, gotten some paper, and begun the letter. Maybe it was foolish. Maybe that was alright.

He lowered the pen back to the paper.

I hope you are well since I last wrote. I assume things have changed for you. They have for me. I still love the stars. And while I still do love cats, I find a pull, now, to dogs as well.

As if to punctate his point, there was a woof down the hallway behind him, followed by a quiet hiss and someone laughing. Logan smiled.

I fear I left out a lot of things when I first wrote. Even back then, even on my worst days, I do believe there was more light than just the stars and cats, though they were (and always have been) quite bright enough to shine for themselves. It is largely thanks to them I am here now, in fact. Them and one other.

The laughing died down, but Logan could still hear him moving, closing boxes and taking them outside. Logan could see him, too- how he always looked like he was being illuminated by sunlight, how his grin was bright enough to blind you, how he swayed his hips as he walked like he owned the place. He didn’t look real. And yet he was moving stuff out Logan’s crummy old apartment.

The road there’s been… less than simple, however, to tread. I’ve stumbled. I’ve lost things that were important to me. I’ve lost hope. I’ve lost the light that metaphorically guides. I’ve almost given up more times than I’d care to recall. But as grim as the path has been to follow, I’ve learned a lot on it too.

Logan paused again, listening to the almost inaudible murmur of wind outside the window and the light humming of the other man weaving into his room, the sound of the latter somehow going into his ears and making its way to his heart, where it happily settled.

I’ve realized that we’re all children, really, no matter how old we get. We’re taking the little pieces we have and trying to build them into something beautiful, something, I suppose, worthy of you. Art and music, stories and poetry, dramas and plays, laughter and love and humanity. We looked at you and took pictures, studied them and magnified them and loved them. I have one of them as my desktop background. You looked even more extraordinary than usual that day.

There were more scraping noises in the background, furniture being moved. The humming had progressed to whistling. Soon enough it would be singing, and if Logan wasn’t careful, soon enough there’d be two voices holding that chorus. A few years ago, that would have been Hell. But at the thought of it today, Logan just smiled bigger.

I think… no, I am certain that you did a good job, universe; on the stars and everything they became, on space and the planets- on us humans, too. And, yes, oh yes things are terrible, but you made an innumerable amount of things worth loving, worth writing to you about, worth speaking of… worth thanking you for. And you gave us all a spark, and as long as it’s taken me to feel secure about mine, I’m using it now, to be fierce about what I care about and those I care for, and to be eternally gentle to them as well.

The whistling melted into singing, just as Logan suspected. He strained his ears just the slightest before he identified the tune- A Whole New World. Logan remembered the first time the other had sung that song to him, so quietly and so unlike his usual dramatics, gently kneeling down next to a Logan who thought he had any chance hiding even his nearly silent sobs in a theater where every sound was reflected every which way…

So... hello. I’ve come to amend my previous memo. I’m writing to let you know you did a good job on the stars, on cats and dogs and the lizard that is currently kept illegally in my apartment but will shortly be kept legally in my house. And universe, I hope you’re watching, because some of the people you created? They’re great, universe; they’re amazing and wonderful and full of love- endlessly sharing love and eternally worthy of receiving it. And despite all the times I’ve lost it along the way, despite how badly Life wishes to take it from me, those people give me hope.

“Hey, Lo-love of my life.” Logan turned from his paper, towards the other man in his house- towards someone he fully believed to be a fallen star personified, with glitter in his eyes and love in his every touch, and a bright, shiny ring on his finger that Logan loved seeing so new but also couldn’t wait to watch it slowly grow weathered, old, worn and loved.

“Yes, Roman?” He asked, tone unnaturally fond, even to just address the man he loved. Oh, it was foolish, yes, but that was alright.

Roman jerked a thumb over his shoulder. “I’ve finished with the living room. If you’re done with whatever nerdy, non-helpful thing you’re doing, I thought we could go get lunch?”

“I’m just writing a letter. It’s not that nerdy.” Logan retaliated. Not that he really minded, given he was still smiling.

Roman was smiling too as he came over and looped his arms around Logan, leaning down so they were decently at the same height from where Logan was seated. He didn’t try to glance at the letter, instead keeping his much-too-adoring gaze centered on Logan. “Still not very helpful.”

“Well I don’t keep you around just to be eye candy, my dear.”

“No, you keep me around because you love me.” Roman said, pressing a kiss to Logan’s cheek before pulling away. “I’m going to start the car. Be out soon, or I’m leaving without you.”

“It will take you at least ten minutes just to locate the car in the lot.” Logan responded cheekily. “I believe I have time.”

“Not my fault I can’t remember where I put things.” Roman said as he wandered back out, muttering to himself in his stage voice about an ungratefully perfect husband and too many cars being coloured red. Logan chuckled to himself and rose his pen one last time.

And through them, universe, that’s you. That’s how the stars sing.

Yours respectfully,

Me.

Logan folded the paper efficiently, slipping it into the envelope and slipping the flap in, shutting it. He left it on his desk, knowing he’d be back for it.

And one of these days, he’d show it to Roman, show it to the man who was the reason behind the majority of the list, who was the reason behind why Logan felt the need to write a second letter to the universe, who was very possibly the reason why Logan was even around to write that second letter.

And maybe that day would be tomorrow. And maybe that day wouldn’t be for another two dozen years. But he would; one day he would and he would only hope it could mean even half as much to Roman as it did to him, could only hope that the emotions he was still struggling to healthily express would be a fraction as clear to Roman as they were to him.

One day he would, and maybe on that day he’d write another letter to the universe, and maybe he’d write a few even before then.

Because Logan had a feeling there were going to be a lot more things worth thanking the universe for with every day that passed.

#the cryptid speaks #ts logan #ts roman #logince #fanfic #fanfiction #ts sides #sander sides #soft #I'm so soft #y'all I teared up a bit writing it #I'm such a fool #I hope you like it

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mosmemes-blog · 5 years

Text

bohemian rhapsody quotes╰ * 2018 film. free to change pronouns / wording.

‘i can’t think of anyone more outrageous than me.’

‘promise me you’ll never take it off.’

‘this is shit!’

‘i pity your wife if you think six minutes is forever.’

‘i think we should all take more risks.’

‘i wanted you to hear it from me.’

‘you look like an angry lizard.’

‘do you mind pissing off?’

‘who even is galileo?!’

‘it’s unusual seeing you without your clone.’

‘it’s unusual seeing you be so bitchy.’

‘this is the bbc!’

‘i’ve known for a while now, i just didn’t want to admit it.’

‘ah, there’s seems to be an echo in here!’

‘i think he’s gay.’

‘well done, columbo.��

‘it’s counterclockwise i think you’ll find.’

‘i had a cold last week if anyone cares.’

‘you want me to lip sync?’

‘that thing between your legs, does it bite?’

‘are you joking?’

‘your life is going to be very difficult.’

‘true poetry is for the listener.’

‘i’m just a musical prostitute, my dear.’

‘right now, it’s between us. just us.’

‘sometimes you’re a total prick.’

‘my nuts feel like they’re in my chest.’

‘i’ve got better things to do on my saturday nights.’

‘tell him his daughter’s an epic shag.’

‘you need to slow down.’

‘everyone’s a critic.’

‘my throat feels like a vulture’s crotch.’

‘what’s the sexiest part of a car?’

‘i want you in my life.’

‘you call me sweet, like i’m some kind of cheese?’

‘being human is a condition which requires an anesthetic. ’

‘we’re all legends.’

‘you look like you could use a friend.’

‘i’ve got to make an impression, darling!’

‘let’s see how good a boxer you really are!’

‘not the coffee machine!’

‘we believe in each other and that’s everything.’

‘another word out’ta you and i’ll throw you out the bloody window.’

‘you promised me you would never take it off.’

‘fortune favors the bold.’

‘i don’t need anyone.’

‘i told them exactly what i wanted them to do and the problem was.. they did it.’

‘what have we got to lose?’

‘you think you could do better?’

‘formulas are a complete and utter waste of time.’

‘the time has finally come to get absolutely shitfaced!’

‘you’ve got a set of balls.’

‘you’ve got four million dollars, perhaps you can buy yourself a family.’

‘it’s a metaphor!’

‘don’t you think i sound like shit?’

‘trouble is, we’re just not thinking big enough.’

‘we’ll punch a hole in the sky.’

‘anyway the wind blows...’

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tessatechaitea · 4 years

Text

Justice Society of America #10 (1993)

Fact: Golden Age heroes didn't have penises.

I was starfished on my bedroom floor tonight staring at the ceiling and thinking about how in my teens and twenties, I could revel in it, thinking, "Who am I? Who will I become? What does life have in store for me?" But a grown ass man doing that simply thinks, "This is it, isn't it?" At least I can lose myself in reading comic books I've already read and which I didn't really enjoy that much the first time. It might sound like a waste of time but it gives my life meaning! The most shallow of meanings, sure. But at least I'm not growing old watching conservative news because I need anything at all to light my passion. I'll say this about Fox News: they understand how old people are so bored they'll watch the dumbest shit and then get mad about it. I know other people who aren't old also watch Fox News. I don't know what the fuck is wrong with them. I guess they have fears and hatreds I hope I'll never truly understand. I just don't understand watching Fox News (or any of the other non-propaganda 24 hour news sites). People do understand there are channels which show programs that make you laugh or feel merry or that simply entertain the other non-lizard parts of your brain, right? How do you pick Fox News when you can watch Sci-fi or Buzzr Comedy Central or the Ru-Paul's Drag Race all day channel? I just realized that the people who watch Fox News basically use Twitter the same way. The majority of my feed are funny people so even when they're discussing politics, it's always entertaining (or fiercely intelligent because witty people are smart. Dumb people think they're witty (see Mike Huckabee)). But when I check out the Twitter feeds of conservatives I know, at best they'll retweet a sports tweet sandwiched between forty retweets of Ben Shapiro and Dinesh Souza. Maybe they think some of the right wing pundits they follow are funny. But calling somebody a mean name or tagging everything "liberal tears" isn't funny. It's the kind of funny that the bully's weasely sidekick guffaws over and then says, "You tell 'em, Jimmy!" Speaking of things bullies would say, it's now time for me to criticize Len Strazewski's Justice Society. Previously, some old fart named Kulak made everybody in the world begin to hate. But they aren't just randomly hating everybody else. They really seem to be bonding over their hatred for the Justice Society of America. Is this story a metaphor about me and my hatred of this comic book? Because that would be a terrible metaphor seeing as how I don't really hate this comic. I wish I did though! I'm old and I need to feel passion! I bet if I hadn't dropped cable eighteen years ago, I'd be addicted to Fox News too! No, I wouldn't be. I'm as liberal as you can be while still making offensive jokes. So not really that liberal, I guess? Maybe I'm socially, economically, and politically liberal. But I'm a complete asshole when it comes to punchlines. Don't get me wrong! I don't make offensive jokes at the expense of people different than me. I make offensive jokes about myself and those Goddamned fucking babies. Fuck those parasitic monsters. This issue begins with Starman finally reappearing.

It really wasn't exciting enough for an announcement of his return. He's just another half-balding old guy. But it lets me talk about the DC Universe show, Stargirl!

I decided to watch Stargirl because what else am I going to do with my life? Finish reading Gravity's Rainbow? I mean, I am going to do that now that I'm done re-reading those awful Lando Calrissian books. But I can't spend all of time reading Pynchon! Just too much of it! I mean, I'm only 18 pages into Gravity's Rainbow (which is further than I've ever gotten on my previous three attempts!) and I'd estimate I don't understand 5% of the words he's used. And that's me being an English Lit major who has been a voracious reader his entire 48 years (minus the ones where I couldn't read yet. Like ten or something?). I was in bed reading and didn't have a dictionary at hand so I just powered through. But I think I need to go back through and learn all of those words so I can impress the local Starbucks barista! Or are people not impressed when you use a word they have nearly zero chance of knowing and don't know you enough to keep the conversation going by asking you what that means and instead just smile and nod and glance occasionally at the tip jar? Anyway, so I've watched three episodes so far and I'll tell you how I feel about it after I mention how I've actually watched four episodes. The first episode I watched, I was impressed with because Courtney was already palling around with a bunch of legacy JSA members and the Injustice Society was trying to tackle the "Who is Stargirl?" problem and I watched it thinking, "This is really impressive how they decided to start in the middle of the story like this. I like it!" Then I went to watch episode two and I was confused because it didn't seem to follow after the previous episode. So I kept thinking, "Maybe this is a flashback?" And then eighteen minutes into it, I thought, "Maybe I didn't watch the pilot episode. I'd better check." And I started watching the first episode which I totally hadn't seen. So I guess I started with Episode 7 or something. Here are some of my tweet-thoughts on the show for those who don't follow me on Twitter (why don't you follow me on twitter? What is wrong with you? Is it because you don't know I'm @GrunionGuy?): Tweet #1: "Sometimes you think maybe you're having inappropriate thoughts but then you check to make sure the actress playing a fifteen year old Stargirl is actually 21 and then you breathe a sigh of relief and think, 'I won't be cancelled today! Unless I tweet this experience, probably.'" Tweet #2: "Sometimes you think maybe you're having inappropriate thoughts but then remember it's okay to fuck a car that's been converted into a giant robot with Luke Wilson inside of it." Tweet #3: "3rd episode of Stargirl begins with a dying white woman's final wish to her white husband that he make the world safe for their white son. She dies and he goes out into the enormous hedge maze garden of his mansion to scream into the sky about the injustice of it all. All in all, a pretty good villain origin!" That third tweet was the only one that really makes any sort of socially acceptable commentary on the show. Saying things like "Stargirl's butt doesn't look like my mouth should be inside of it because she's fifteen although the actress is twenty-one so maybe it actually does look like that?" aren't the greatest things to admit even if you're just joking (which I am but just adding this statement makes it sound like I'm not but I totally am (that "totally" doesn't help but I assure you, I'm joking (did the hole just get deeper?))). I mean, sure, her body is super fit because she's a super hero (or will be?). But she has such a baby face! And even at twenty-one, she's just a baby! If I were younger, I'd totally have a crush on her. But I'm 48 and I just don't consider young women proper targets for my sexual deviance anymore. The only interaction I should have with young women these days is warning them against going out to the summer camp at the lake where that boy drowned so many years ago. The girls I had a crush on when I was younger (Christina Applegate (Kelly Bundy), Winona Ryder (Veronica Sawyer), and Stacie Mistysyn (Caitlin Ryan)), I have even more of a crush on now. Judging by the crushes I've had my whole life and not society's stereotype of women, women definitely get better looking as they get older. And probably as I get older. I'm sure that's part of it although I like to think that fifteen year old me would still look at these nearly fifty (or maybe fifty? I'm not so obsessed I know their ages but they're all around my age anyway) year old women and think, "Holy fuck mommy." I'm sorry for that last comment. But I'm only sorry to God not anybody who was reading this. Oh, I forgot to mention that Joel McHale is the original Starman (I mean original in the show although he's Sylvester Pemberton who was never Starman but only Skyman although in the show he was at one point the Star-Spangled Kid and Luke Wilson does mention Ted Knight at some point). And he's funny in his death scene just like he should be because I've obviously decides Sylvester is Jeff Winger's new superhero secret identity alias. Starman heads off with his Cosmic Buttplug to stop Kulak in Gotham City. He doesn't know it yet but the rest of his pals are currently battling Kulak and probably losing. Although Kulak is even older than they are so maybe it's a fair fight. I'm just surprised that a comic book where old men battle other old men has made it ten issues.

I think some editor was fired last issue and the new editor's only job was to make sure it didn't look like Thunderbolt had been speared through the asshole.

Although this editor seemed to think it was okay to have Hawkgirl fucked from behind by Kulak.

I hope this isn't a terrible conservative take on women that exposes how terrible I am at sex but even mind-controlled, I can't imagine licking a woman's shoulder would elicit that response. Although she could be "Ummming" from his pee-hee in her bee-boo.

I know conservative talking points are generally fucking idiotic but Ben Shapiro somehow thinking women can get "too wet" from sexual excitement might be the most hilariously idiotic. I don't think I've been with a woman who was all, "Yes! Yes! Lick my shoulder blade!" and I then I got super into it and then suddenly she was all, "Nope. Too wet. This isn't working for me anymore. I need a doctor, I guess?" Who am I kidding? I know I've never been with a woman who did that because that would mean I've had to have been with a woman! Also, women get wet down there? What's that about? Is it because the vagina cries at the sight of the penis? Kulak takes away all of their super powers but I guess he forgets that Wildcat doesn't have any so I'm hoping Wildcat just punches him in the face soon. Although that Starman bit probably was a hint at how the coming fight might end. You know, with Starman shoving his Cosmic Buttplug into Kulak's third eye, if you know what I'm saying. You probably do because I called it a Cosmic Buttplug. I should try to be more subtle. Kulak's entire purpose is to get revenge on the Justice Society for defeating him way back in 1940. Can't even one super villain just accept defeat and move on with their lives? Or are writers just always going to be so inherently lazy that they'll never give up the crutch of the villain attacking the hero directly out of revenge for that one single time they tried to actually commit a crime and were stopped? The JSA puts up a fight that helps to drain Kulak's power but it isn't until Starman arrives and does that thing I mentioned with his Cosmic Buttplug that Kulak is defeated.

This is the grossest orgasm I've ever seen and my computer is riddled with viruses from all of the previous ones I've watched.

After Kulak's defeat, Jesse Quick wraps up the issue with her super hero dissertation which is less a dissertation and more of a thorough cleaning of all of their asses with her tongue. She's all, "I didn't really do much research or define heroes too good but the Justice Society of America are my heroes so I deserver a degree, right?" Justice Society of America #10 Rating: B. This comic book was as average as they get. I suppose that should garner a C grade but a B grade just seems to say decent but mediocre. By the time I get down to a C grade, I feel like the comic book needs a lot more faults than "I don't really care about stories with heroes who are having strokes during the battles." It's a valid criticism but it's probably too subjective for a critical review. I know, I know! When has that ever stopped me before? Well, I feel charitable today. It probably has something to do with Mars being so close to the full moon earlier this week. My blood is all riled up and wacky!

#Justice Society of America #Stargirl #JSA #Len Strazewski #Mike Parobeck #Mike Machlan

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simkaswriting · 6 years

Text

I’m in love with my car-(Roger Taylor)

Pairing: Roger Taylor x Reader

Word Count: 2.2k

Warnings: swearing, Roger being an all around clueless ass really

Summary: in which Roger finally admits his love for (Y/N) after some soul searching with Brian

A/N- can be read as both irl Roger and BohRap Roger, the story doesn’t specify.

“Please give a warm welcome to her majesty, Queen!” the venue owner shouts into the microphone, a beaming smile present on his lipstick-stained face. He’s rocking a moustache of a true 70s pornstar that he’s no doubt very proud of, and bright red bell-bottoms that could potentially put Freddie to shame.

As he walks off stage, the people around me erupt into a cacophony of whoops and yeahs. Tonight the venue is packed, not that it usually isn’t filled to the brim with fans. But tonight, it seems like the capacity has more than doubled.

Brian and John walk on first, smiles on their faces as they adjust their instruments. The crowd goes wild once again, causing John to flash the general crowd a bashful smile. He’s always been the more reserved one when performing live. Brian finds my face in the front of the crown, and I offer him a supportive smile. Roger walks on stage next, and before he even has the chance to wave at the fans and take his seat, the people all start cheering for him, the distinguishable voices of many women ringing out above all else. But that’s not unusual, Roger has always been quite the ladies man, to my annoyance. Though before the crowd has a chance to catch their breath, Freddie strides out onto the stage, his hands high in the air, a shit-eating grin on his face. He’s wearing sparkling silver platforms and a checked leotard, one he made himself.

Pride washes over me as the guys dive head-first into their first song, ‘Keep Yourself Alive’, and the people immediately start jumping and pumping their fists in the air.

As the guys play through their songs, the crowd gets more wild and into the moment, until Freddie announces that Roger’s going to be singing ‘I’m In Love With My Car’. I can see the teasing smile on Brian's face, and I can’t help but recall the hilarious conversation the guys had at the farm a little while back. Freddie sits down at the front of the stage, knowing well he won’t have to be singing much for this song, just backing vocals. After all, it’s a song Roger wrote as an ode to his beloved cars, so this is on him. Rog rolls up his sleeves to his elbows and winks at the general audience, an act enough to drop the panties off of 90% of women in the room. An act that annoys me, for no apparent reason, other than my deeply-buried adoration for the blond drummer.

As the song goes on, through the many raw vocals and metaphors for sexual acts, I notice more and more women pushing to the front of the stage, flirty smiles on their lips, no doubt wanting to get noticed by the one and only Roger Taylor. And I honestly can’t blame them, he is a sight for sore eyes.

The band finish playing the last few songs, and spend a few minutes at the front of the stage, talking to their fans and signing whatever gets passed their way. I use this time to make my way out of the crown and stand at the bar, watching them with admiration in my eyes. If you’d told me a few years ago that the crazy guys who’d sold out pubs in our home town would become my best friends, I’d have laughed in your face. They were, or rather still are, four misfits who don’t fit together yet despite this call themselves family.

My eyebrows furrow as I see a blonde girl hand Roger a piece of paper, no doubt with her number on it, and press a chaste kiss to his grinning face. The acrid feeling in my stomach worsens when I see him whisper something into her ear before sending a quick wink her way as the guys start heading off stage. I close my eyes for a brief moment, taking some calming breaths. Sure, logically there’s no reason for why I should be acting the way I currently am, all bothered about what I see at almost every gig. Roger is my best friend, an attractive guy who clearly knows it and takes advantage of it. At the end of the day, we aren’t together, despite how much I crave it.

Opening my eyes, I make my way out of the venue and round the back, where the guys are already packing their gear away. Freddie welcomes me with a grand smile, his platforms making him a lot taller than me to my disdain. “How did you find the show, darling?” He asks, stepping out of Rogers way so he can get his drums in the tour bus as soon as possible.

Ignoring the blond, I grin back at Freddie. “Amazing, even better than the Glasgow gig last Wednesday. You guys really know how to get the crowd going.”

John nods to himself. “She’s right, this venue was way more packed than Kings Merchant.”

Roger and Brian lock up the instruments and walk over to the three of us. Roger casually slings his arm around my shoulders, smile not leaving his face. “(Y/N) is always right, you should know this by now.”

Brian and John exchange a look I don’t quite understand, but I dismiss it. Instead, I turn my head to look at the drummer who’s still got his arm around me with a proud smile, and find myself instinctively leaning against his side for support, not that I need it. “You should suck my dick like this more, it suits you.” I tease Roger, looking into his gorgeous eyes with a mischievous gleam in my own ones.

Just as Brian’s about to say something, I assume along the lines of ‘lets get on the road I’m tired of talking about sucking dicks’, there’s a distinct voice begging for our attention. Or rather, Rogers.

The blonde girl from the gig is walking towards us, her smile as bright as this bands future. The arm around me slowly slips off, as if he was ashamed to be in such close proximity to me, and I don’t bother looking at Roger before heading into the bus. I really don’t want to deal with my best friend flirting with someone tonight. The man I’m pretty sure my stupid head has decided to fall in love with. I beeline for my bunk and pretty much dive in, not caring that I’m still wearing the dress I wore to the gig. My capacity for dealing with constant unintentional rejection has reached its peak, and I’m over it. It tires me just trying to be around Roger at this point, when all it does is hurt me. And worst of all, I can’t be mad with him. It’s impossible. With a small huff, I burry my head in my pillow and slowly drift off to sleep just as the bus begins to move.

Rogers POV

“What’s gotten into (Y/N) tonight? She never goes to sleep so early. She should be drinking us all to shame right now.” I ask Brian, who’s trying to read one of his books on stars or whatever. Probably something nerdy. He looks up at me from between the pages of the thick book, watching as I light a cigarette and take a slow drag, before shaking his head. John decides to opt out at this stage and go sit with our driver, whereas Freddy walks away to sit at the back of the bus. They’re probably tired of hearing me talking about her so much.

Did I do something to piss her off? Should I have dedicated my car song so her, like I usually do? Am I not spending enough time with her? Perhaps that’s it. Brian shakes his head, heavy hair shaking like some sort of palm tree amidst a windy day in Hawaii. He sets the book down on the small centre table, before crossing his arms and leaning back against the sofa with one of his signature ‘shits about to get personal’ looks.

“I would really love to take a look inside of your head, just to see what goes on in there. Because by the looks of it, not much.” He sighs, cocking his head to the side.

I scowl at him, standing up and beginning to pace in the limited space we have. Almost obsessively, I take drags of the cigarette until there’s nothing but the burnt filter left. If he thinks he can just insult me without even minimal help, then he can go fuck himself.

“You know what? Fuck you and your self-righteous ass.” I growl and brace myself against the kitchen counter. Why are women so difficult? No, let me rephrase. Women aren’t that difficult. But (Y/N)? It’s like she’s her own specimen at this point. I can’t keep up with her mood swings. If I didn’t know better, I'd go blaming the sudden change of attitude on shark week.

“Roger, calm down. What I’m trying to say is, the answer is as obvious as Freddy’s love for cats. Think about it. When does she get all bothered? What usually happens around that time?” Brian prods further, obviously knowing the answer, but wanting me to figure it out for myself.

With a small breath, I sit down opposite him and begin to absentmindedly fiddle with my fingers. Is there a tell-tale sign? It’s been getting worse with her recently, she’s more moody and doesn’t let me touch her as much anymore. She’s my best friend, I’d do anything to make her happy.

“I don’t know, May. I can’t crack that girl.” I sigh in defeat, officially one step away from taking Fred’s white lizard-like jacket and waving it as the white flag of surrender.

Brian sighs. “Why do you think she gets so hurt the majority of time we play?” It’s quiet for a few minutes, just the humming of the tour bus and the distant sound of John talking with our driver, and his question hanging heavy in the air.

Something that happens when we perform? I try to think of what I said, or did, tonight. I analyse every single thing that happened that could have upset her. She was fine before the concert, and during it. It was just after that she became-

“Holy shit Brian you genius!” I exclaim, shooting up from the couch so fast I almost trip over my own feet. How did I not realise before? I mean, I know I can be clueless, but to this extent? How have I not noticed that the best girl for me was hiding right under my nose?

Brian’s eyebrows shoot up, but a smirk of dare I say pride takes place on his face. “Feel free to say that again.” He chuckles, before making a ‘shoo’ motion in the direction of the bunks and picking his book back up.

“In your dreams mate.” I call over my shoulder, before walking with determination to the bed I know has (Y/N) in it. Sleeping or not, I have a lot of apologising to do, and if all goes well, I’ll be dedicating the next performance of ‘Love of My Life’ to my best friend of 5 years.

I quietly pull aside the curtain, a small smile fighting it’s way to my lips when I see how messy her hair is. It’s like Brian’s on a bad day, but times ten. Gently, I brush some of it out of her eyes, the smile now impossible to stop. She’s beautiful.

“Hey, sleeping beauty, wake up.” I whisper, slightly blowing wind at her face in an effort to get her up quicker. It just so happens to be my lucky day by the looks of it, as her eyes flutter open, momentary confusion settling in before an annoyed expression appears on her beautiful features.

“Would it kill you to brush your teeth every once in a while, Rog?” She hisses, rubbing sleep from her eyes. Always one for snappy comments, no matter the time of day.

I roll my eyes at her, definitely making a mental note of what she said for later. “Yeah, I get that a lot. Listen, (Y/N). I’m not what one calls a good man. I hurt you, and I will forever be sorry about that. I wish I could take it all back, all of those women, the one night stands. I can’t keep kissing strangers and pretending that they’re you.”

She’s quiet, absentmindedly biting her lip, as if trying to digest what I just said. And I don’t blame her. I seldom voice feelings like these, especially towards women.

“I didn’t realise that I’d had my Aston Martin here, in front of me all of these years, and I was just a dumbass chasing after some off-season Morris Marina in the colour beige.” I ramble, frowning and gesticulating left, right and centre. She looks at me in confusion.

“Hold on. Did you just compare me to a car?” She asks, her voice laced with sleepiness and incredulousness. Her eyes scan my face for a few seconds, presumably looking for a hint of amusement or mischief. But when she doesn’t find any trace of it, her demeanour suddenly becomes serious, almost amorous.

I crack a small, nervous smile. “ Well, yeah I did. ‘Cause I’m in love with my car.”

#queen #queen x reader #queen imagine #queen imagines #roger taylor #roger taylor x reader #roger taylor imagine #ben hardy #ben hardy x reader #ben hardy imagine #ben hardy imagines #bohemian rhapsody #bohemian rhapsody imagine #brian may #Freddie mercury #john deacon

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screensirenfic · 5 years

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Black Leather - Chapter 28

The junkyard was pretty much what the name implied; a big stretch of land heaped up with shit that was better left forgotten by time.

I came here with Charlie sometimes to find scrap parts for old cars; usually just found scrap instead.

Everyone knew that the decent scrapyards were out Wyoming way.

Still; the kid had done an alright job, all things considered.

It was pretty defensible as a base, and the school bus looked like it could hold out against nuclear war, and probably was designed that way if the history books were anything to go by.

I could already see some decent scrap we could use as a barricade, and with a little elbow grease; we might even be able to improvise some traps.

“Oh yeah; this will do. This will do just fine.” Steve spoke my thoughts out loud, clearly on the same wavelength when it came to finding a defensible home base.

“Good call; kid.” I praised Dustin, earning me one of those toothy smiles, and I hoped some of my dad’s hero worship wasn’t rubbing off on me.

——————————————————

The best of half an hour was spent spreading round the rest of the meat; only a minimal amount of it ending up being flung at each other, because as much as I liked horsing around with Steve; I valued my innards more, and didn’t want to come across as a tasty snack for a hungry demogorgon.

Our efforts ended with us heaping the dregs of our buckets in a pile in the middle of the junkyard, creating what we’d hope would look like an all you can eat buffet to any unsuspecting monster, and the perfect ambush spot to us.

“I said medium-well!” A voice yelled from across the junkyard, and Steve, Dustin and I all looked in its direction.

Two kids and a shiny new racer bike were heading our way with painfully eager expressions, and I wondered when me and Steve signed up to be counselors at Camp Shitstain?!

“Who’s that?” Steve asked, because he was still painfully dumb, and we were probably gonna have to fix that, but not till I sorted out that look on Dustin’s face.

Steve may have been an idiot, but to me it was glaringly obvious that the redheaded girl on the back of that bike was the object of his affections.

And if the way his face sunk harder than the Titanic was a signifier of his feelings; it looks like Red was already smitten with her speed racer.

“Hey kid; you wanna talk with your friend for a bit? Cos if you want I can keep Red busy?” I asked, giving Dustin an out if he wanted, because there was clearly a discussion that needed to be had here, and it was probably best if the lady in question was out of the picture for that.

“Yeah; that would be good, actually.” Dustin replied, probably sounding the most grown up he had since I’d joined this this party.

“Alright. You just leave this to me.” I reassured him, giving him a hard pat on the shoulder, before approaching the young redhead girl.

“Hey Red; can you give me a hand?”

——————————————————-

So Little Miss Lovetriangle was actually a big help, but maybe it was because at least someone around here wasn’t worried about getting her hands messy.

It did also help that I knew all about unwillingly being the rope in a testosterone filled game of tug of war.

The kid didn’t even seem to have an interest in the boys; and I was really gonna have to start learning names, because Dipshits One and Two and Red were really not suitable names in a crisis.

Right now; me and Red were busy melding corrugated metal sheets to the bus in a last ditch attempt at armour playing against demogorgons, whilst the two boys were still playing therapist, and Steve was off god knows where doing god knows what.

It was almost poetic; really. The two females of the group doing all the heavy lifting whilst the men were too busy bickering and being emotional.

Still; someone had to do it, and me and Red were down to our last sheet.

“On the count of three. One. Two. Three.” I instructed, before we managed to bend sheet metal around the front corner of the bus by hand.

It took some elbow grease, but we still managed to do it, and fuck; if I wasn’t proud of our work, creating our own Firt Knox outta scrap metal and chicken wire.

“Great work; kid!” I praised her; reaching out for a fist bump, which she eagerly returned.

I wiped the beading of sweat on my forehead, taking in what would hopefully hold us safely until Steve and I could figure out a way to kill a mutant lizard.

“You know; I never actually got your name?” I asked the girl; because it was probably rude of me to just call her Red this entire time.

“Max. Max Mayfield.” The girl replied, holding out a sweaty palm to shake.

“Lola. Lola Hopper.” I offered the same in return, taking her hand and shaking it firmly.

“You know; it’s funny...” Max smiled with withheld laughter, still shaking my hand.

“What’s funny?” I asked, letting go of her hand with a smile.

“My older brother goes on and on about this girl he knows called Lola...” She continued; that smile turning into a full on smirk, that sparked my curiosity.

“Well; what’s his name? Maybe I know him?” I asked, my interest officially peaked, and my mind now scanning for any fiery redheads I knew of.

“Billy.” She stated; and I felt the bottom suddenly drop out of my stomach.

She couldn’t be talking about him; could she?

“Billy? Billy Hargrove?” I asked; the question a near mimic of his own introduction to me, though with far more apprehension.

“Yeah. Know him?” Max nodded; clearly not picking up on my uneasiness with the topic, because did Billy really talk about me at home?

“Yeah. I know him.” I replied, not giving anything away with my answer, as there was no real way of knowing what bullshit Billy spurted about me behind closed doors.

“But you can’t possibly be that Lola...” Max scoffed; a small smile of incredulity crossing her face. “You’re not—“

“A dumb blonde with tits bigger than my head?” I asked; having already perfectly painted a mental picture of Billy’s usual type, and knowing that I didn’t fit the bill in the slightest.

“You are that Lola! Jesus; Wow!” She exclaimed; and for once I was hopeful that the gossip Billy was saying about me might at least hold a slither of truth.

“You are so not what I expected.” Max stated, leaning down to help me pick up another piece of metal, and I began to wonder what exactly she’d expected me to be like?

Probably a stuck up, slutty bitch who’d look more in place on a poster in Billy’s room then digging through trash in a junk yard.

Hope I wasn’t a disappointment.

“I’ll take that as a compliment.” I shrugged, deciding that if she’d expected what I think she expected; I was glad I was a big fucking surprise.

“Oh; yeah, totally!” Max nodded in agreement; clearly getting exactly what train of thought I was riding on, and deciding I was the polar opposite of it.

“I mean; I just can’t quite believe it...” She continued; her face a mixture of awe and disbelief as we continued to work on our barricade. “You seem so cool, and Billy’s a—“

“Total dick.” I finished off the sentence for her, not at all surprised that find Billy’s own sibling thought he was a douchebag.

Maybe I really was the first to see a different side to him.

“Hey; you said it, not me.” She held up her arms in surrender, as if she was worried the shadow of Billy would fall over her at any given minute.

But still; it wasn’t denial.

Then we both started laughing, because sometimes it was so damn refreshing to spend some time around another woman; budding as she may be, and I began to think maybe I should introduce her to El.

Of course; that would open a whole new can of worms with dad’s trust issues and secrecy laws.

“Hey; but aren’t you and Billy supposed to be...” She halted our laughing, creasing her red eyebrows in confusion.

So Billy did talk about me.

That, or maybe we were louder than I thought; in which case, I probably owed this kid an apology.

And some ear plugs.

I shook my head in refusal, trying my best to keep from smiling, because dick or not; thinking of Billy made me a little giddy.

“No. Nothing serious; we’re just...”

“Oh my god! You are!” She exclaimed; and I was becoming very aware that Steve could be back at any minute.

“We’re not even dating...” I continued to explain, but kids heard what they wanted to hear, and this one wanted some sort of decent payoff for putting up with a shitstain of a brother.

“You are far too cool for my brother; Lola Hopper.” Max praised, and somehow, her brand of hero worship was one I didn’t really mind.

“Hey; are those shitbirds helping you?” An uncharacteristically severe voice of one Steve Harrington interrupted our female bonding; the man in question coming into view with two folding chairs in hand.

“Steve; really, we’re fine...” I began to excuse, really not finding the idea of playing troop leader for a misfit troop of Boy Scouts appealing, but Steve was already well on his way marching over to the car the boys were not so subtly hiding behind.

“Jesus; is he always like this?” Max asked, chuckling at a rather fatherly Steve Harrington, busy lecturing two rather somber looking surrogate sons; completed with a complimentary hand on hip and finger waggle, as if he couldn’t take the metaphor far enough.

“You know; believe it or not, he’s actually pretty chilled normally.” I commented, smiling at how the boys suddenly started working double time under their “dad’s” direct supervision.

Daddy Steve.

Jesus; what a joke!

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phcking-detective · 5 years

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First Blood Update (4)

in honor of hitting 100 followers--and all the tornadoes repeatedly hitting Oklahoma that might kill me at any time--I’m posting a sneak preview from chapter one of First Blood

Gavin follows after Nines, a little worried he might wander off in his sleep deprived state and get lost in all this square footage of prime fucking real estate. Even saints would have to work to feel sorry for dead people as rich as this.

Finally, he stumbles into a section of the open floor plan that seems to function as the living room. There's a flat screen tv nearly as big as the wall it's mounted on, a coffee table made from a whole chunk of mahogany with a half-full tumbler, and a dead guy sitting in a chair with a gun in his hand and a hole in his head.

The TV still blares out the news, and the vic's own face flashes out at them.

"This the Ponzi scheme guy?" Gavin asks.

"Maverick Russell, age forty-seven." Nines shoves a finger inside the vic's mouth with no shame or preamble. "Blood alcohol level point-oh-nine-seven. The entry wound in his head appears to be consistent with a nine millimeter beretta."

He takes a small packet out of his Cyberlife jacket pocket and somehow has the coordination to open it one-handed. Gavin wrinkles his nose at the antiseptic smell as Nines sanitizes both hands with the wipe, even though he only touched the vic with one finger. Then he lifts that same finger to the victim's head.

"Hey!" Gavin barks. "What have I told you about that shit?"

Nines stares back at him with that unblinking, lizard-eye look. He touches his finger to the entry wound but doesn't push it in. Just brushes it back and forth, which is somehow way freakier.

"The entry wound in his head is consistent with a nine millimeter beretta," Nines says.

"Great."

Gavin walks a perimeter around the designated living room space. At first it's just to keep himself awake, but by the second circle, he's got one of those gut feelings. Something about this scene is off. Fuck if he can tell what though, 'cause the victim was drunk, watching his own metaphorical demise on the news, and has a bullet in his head from the gun in his hand.

"You feel that?" He asks.

Nines cocks his head to the side. "The circulating air temperature is seventy--"

"No." Gavin huffs and starts on another circle. "Do you like … you feel what I’m feeling?"

"Your question is incomprehensible."

Gavin sighs and grinds the heels of his palms against his eyes. He bites back a comment about this being why androids can't make good cops. Fuck knows why. He just wants to get this shit done and go home.

When he opens his eyes, everything swirls with black spots in front of him. What's bugging him about this? The guy is dead, the gun is in his hand, the news says--

Gavin blinks the spots away and stands in front of the vic. Fake tan, but high enough quality that it'd look real if he didn't live in fucking Detroit. Decently fit, and the open kitchen on the other side of the room has one of those blenders that cost more than his car. The loft's decorated in masculine colors, all brown and navy and black leather.

"Go check out the kitchen," Gavin tells Nines. "Tell me what's in the fridge."

Nines does as he's told, but only after considering it. Gavin takes back the lizard comparisons. He's like a cat. One of those big jungle cats that's smart enough to eat the humans hunting them.

"Dannon Oikos triple blended greek nonfat yogurt, coffee, four pack, five-point-three ounce cups," Nines says. "Dannon Oikos trippled blended greek nonfat yogurt, peanut butter banana, four--"

Gavin rolls his eyes. "Just say yogurt. What else does he got?"

"Yogurt. Eggs. Milk. Sparkling water. Chicken breast. Mayonnaise. Sliced ham. Apples. Protein shakes." Nines opens the freezer. "Chicken breast. Chicken breast. Chicken breast. Chi--"

Gavin starts giggling. He can't help it. Nines turns around and glares at him, deliberately flashing his LED red for a second.

"OK, fuck off, it's late," he says. "I'm like, super tired. Just analyze that shit or whatever and tell me if his food matches any of the latest high protein fad diets."

"Yes," Nines replies so instantly Gavin wonders if he actually even looked it up at all. "The victim's food intake matches the Eight Step Enligh--"

Gavin waves him off. "Yeah, yeah. Cool. Does the bar have gin, vodka, and vermouth?"

Maverick Russell, definitely confirmed for one of those ultra-rich masculine gym types. Not like, an actual gym rat, just that generic rich person level of fitness achieved through liposuction, personal fitness trainers, and the latest fad diet.

"Yes, along with seven other distinct liqueurs." Nines finishes checking the bar and returns to the living room. "How is this information relevant, detective?"

"This drink and that gun don't match," Gavin says when Nines returns.

Nines cocks his head again. "Match."

"Yeah. I don't see any Bond memorabilia in here." Gavin takes another quick glance around, but the entertainment center doesn't display any vintage DVDs, and rich film buffs are not subtle about displaying their collections. "He ever purchased anything like that?"

Nines's LED spins yellow for about half a second this time before he replies. "No. There are no significant purchases of memorabilia relating to the James Bond books or movies present in Maverick Russell's finances."

"OK, then why the fuck does he have a beretta?" Gavin asks.

Nines looks at the victim, and then back at him. "That is what he shot himself with."

"Yeah, but why," he stresses. "Would this guy--this self-obsessed, rich guy masc, desperate-to-be-cool motherfucker—have a beretta?"

"It is the tool he used to complete suicide." Nines frowns. "Is there a reason he would not have a beretta?"

"Because it's a ladies' handgun," Gavin says. "This guy's got three different TV remotes, a flat screen covering an entire wall, jesus, how old is that scotch?"

Nines sticks his finger in it, because of course he does. "One hundred and twenty-three years old, consistent with--"

"Shit, I would've thought this guy was trying too hard when I was twenty," Gavin mutters. "Look, I fucking promise you, this particular man literally wouldn't be caught dead with a beretta--unless he's a James Bond fan. Even then … hey, Garrett!"

"His input is unnecessary, detective." Nines cleans his hands with another sanitary wipe. "If you would be more clear--"

His jaw shuts with a click as Garrett jogs over.

#reed900 #reed900 fic #dbh #gavin reed #detroit become human #writing #my writing #uglytrashgoblin

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lettersfromn0where · 5 years

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Star Wars marathon semi-live-blog: Ep. V

So. Last night, I decided on a whim to rewatch every single Star Wars movie for the first time since I was seven this Christmas break. As I knew I’d have many things to say about this, I started messaging @marypoppinswasmyfatherbitches about my opinions and observations while watching Episode IV. She apparently thought they were amusing because she told me (several times, ily) that I should live blog, and i was already halfway through last time but wanted to do it, so I guess I’m doing so now. So, to everyone who questions why this entirely unnecessary liveblog of “The Empire Strikes Back” even exists...let’s just call it a Christmas gift for my ever-encouraging tumblr pal. (Is it a liveblog if you wait until the very end to post your collected thoughts? Nah? Maybe?)

Wow, I really was BABY when I saw this last. Literally, I was in second grade. I’m now just months from my high school graduation. What the heck? This is gonna seem so different than it did then...

I like the opening crawl way better sans weird capitalization.

I’m not sure why the tauntaun noises are such a mood, but they are.

17-year-old me is now remembering that 7-year-old me 100% had a baby crush on OG Trilogy Luke and I really don’t know how to feel about that. I guess I thought he was pretty...?

Peak romance: protracted gazes across a room.

“I can arrange that. You could USE a good kiss!” GOSH, THIS BICKERING IS PERFECTION. Again. Peak romance. I definitely was not able to appreciate that as a second grader but now it’s kind of the best.

HOW IS LUKE STILL CONSCIOUS IF HE’S BEEN UPSIDE DOWN FOR HOURS? Also this cave scene is lowkey incredibly tense for a few seconds.

I have no clue why but the way people fall over in these movies always cracks me up.

Snow planet makes me really freaking glad that I live in SoCal.

Chewbacca’s vocalizations sound like my Labrador’s and I’m not sure what to make of that information.

Literally everyone in this movie looks prettier in snow planet outfits.

The way that tauntaun falls over is an accurate representation of my AP chemistry grade after exams.

Is muttering the same phrases over and over a hypothermia symptom? Because I did not know that if it is, and if not, why the heck is Luke doing that?

“This is Rogue Two” *cries in Rogue One*

This tank thing is REALLY unfortunate. Leave the unconscious person half-naked in front of literally everyone, why don’t ya?

I probably missed something but I’m still not sure where the name “your worship” came from.

“Why you stuck-up, half-witted, scruffy-looking, nerf-herder!” Iconic for a reason.

Ewwwww that kiss is noooooo. (If they weren’t siblings though I would be dying @ his reaction)

I wanna know who sent Chewbacca on a stealth mission. I WANNA KNOW.

Seeing Han and Leia in this makes me wish the other series either had a central romance, or that the one they had was well-written, because it’s one of the best parts of the movie. See, guys? If it’s good, romance can actually enhance the plot of a movie that focuses on something else!

It’s driving me crazy that the AT-AT walkers remind me of some sort of animal but I can’t put my finger on which one.

“Someday, you’re going to be wrong, and I just hope I’m there to see it” is a very underrated line.

The fact that Leia’s immediate reaction to Han doing a stupid and dangerous thing is “you don’t have to do this to impress me!” is my favorite thing ever.

“You said you wanted to be around when I made a mistake...this could be it, sweetheart” -> great payoff of that line earlier. I love it when they circle back to old dialogue. Also adorable that Han remembered she’d said that. (Get you a guy who listens!)

I always feel so bad for droids because they have to be on the outside of the ship, exposed to such harsh conditions. I know they can’t feel things, but I still :(.

Ohp, R2 just gotta YEETED by that Loch Ness monster thing.

“Sorry, sweetheart, I haven’t got time for anything else.” -> she walked right into that one. ALSO. SMOOOOTH.

One of the few things I remembered from my initial watch as a little kid is that I was always freaked out by how you never saw anyone eat onscreen in these movies, to the extent that I wondered if people had to eat in space. (Idk, i was SEVEN.) but there’s an eating scene in this! Vindication for baby me!

I...did not remember Yoda having this much crackhead energy. At all.

The way Han looks at Leia when she calls him a scoundrel! I AM DECEASED

C3PO be out here ruining moments.

Yoda goes from crackhead to wise elder in approximately no seconds. We love.

On a scale of 1 to C3PO, how terrible are you in a crisis?

Worm thing is the stuff of nightmares.

96% sure I just saw a live iguana in the background of that scene. HI, FRIEND!

AND THERE WAS A MONITOR LIZARD! Friends! I love all of the reptile friends on Dagobah :)

This cave fight with the sonshadowing must have been absolutely insane to watch when this first came out.

Guys, i realized...Yoda’s combination of pithy sayings, crackhead energy, and anti-establishment ideals make him seem like a typical midcentury hippie. *writes essay about how Yoda is actually a metaphor for the 1960s countercultural movement*

If this ship levitating scene didn’t inspire your kid self try to use the Force to lift your parents’ car, did you even have a childhood?

R2’s little “REEEEEEE!” screams whenever he gets thrown bring me LIFE.

Okay, Han is enjoying stopping Lando from hitting on Leia WAY too much. (They both are...)

The forehead kiss! In the middle of a fight! PEAK ROMANCE(tm)

“One last kiss before i face certain death” is my absolute favorite and hi this is not okay with me :)

“I love you.” “I know.” I DIED. (@my 11th grade English teacher: I used parallel structure!)

I remember thinking the fight choreography with lightsabers in the last movie was really awkward and it’s WAY better here.

Do lightsabers cauterize the wounds they cause? It would make sense, since people who get stabbed or sliced by lightsabers never seem to bleed.

This falling sequence is the weirdest-looking thing in this movie.

The fact that Lando is the only person in this movie who pronounces “Han” with a short A rather than the long A that everyone else uses bugs me to no end.

I had completely forgotten how iconic this movie was. Off to watch the next one 👀👀

In my defense, I did say this was going to make no sense...

Until next time!

#sarah rewatches star wars #by request #epV

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