#like its the duality of man and its actually very normal but its very hard to capture in fiction but benedick does

[viksalos]

4, 7, 11, 12, 15, 20, 31, 40, 46, 48, 56, 57, and 58

so understandably this got very long lol

(ask game)

4. thing i'm looking forward to: hmmm short term i'd probably say for Skinny Puppy to reschedule their Pittsburgh show, and for a friend's wedding coming up at the beginning of next month :) longer term to graduate with my fking doctorate aughhh

7. what my life was like last year: about the same? i hadn't made as much progress in my degree but i did hit a few important milestones at least, so it was frustrating but i was getting somewhere. last year was definitely the year that live music *really* started back up since the pandemic began, so i started getting out and doing that a lot more. was a bit nervous to get back into crowds but i thought it was really good for me to have a hobby where i get to see other human beings regularly and slowly make friends in the local music scene 👍

11. music i'm listening to rn: ya i got the thou/ragana split repress in the mail yesterday so i'm spinning that

12. something i want rn: i mean most of my immediate needs are taken care of so i feel like this kind of ties in with 4 lol--skinny puppy show, my doctorate, cure for my chronic illness maybe idk

15. personality description: hmm!! well shy but friendly, tries to be careful with my words but ultimately a chatterbox, sad sometimes but full of love for others & tries to be compassionate in all things. duality of woman or whatever

20. favorite song rn: ohhh that is hard, my favorite song changes like every day lol. i guess since i'm listening to the thou/ragana split rn and it just came on i'd say The Void. i know the void!!

31. 3 random facts: uhhh off the top of my head. 1.) have skydived 2.) when i was a teenager i went to an "explosives camp" which was billed as a way for troubled kids to get out their destructive urges but really it was just a way for the local mining & engineering school to recruit people to its program lol. but i did learn how to set up & detonate C4 among other stuff 3.) was a member of a local cult/megachurch for a few months as a kid

40. favorite memory: ohhh this is HARD. i feel like i have to say my wedding though. there was a lot of stuff leading up to the wedding that was difficult & painful but it was mostly like, pandemic and terrible relatives, but our friends really showed up for us and the actual day went as well as it could have :)

46. last text: "none really"

48. turn offs: idk, like sexually or personally? sexually i guess not much shocks me but there's plenty i'm not willing to do, including discussing this too much on tumblr lol. on an interpersonal level though i'd say my turnoffs are mostly just like, making being a hater your whole personality i guess? like you could otherwise be a totally decent person, have politics that completely align with mine etc., but if everything you say or post is about how X harmless phenomenon or group of people is annoying or trash or whatever then i'm not gonna want to be around you, even if X harmless phenomenon is something i also don't like. wish you the best tho

56. answered

57. favorite domestic animal is probably the humble kitty cat :) favorite wild animals are probably servals and snakes. i think all animals are cool tho & i like learning about them

58. description of my best friend: uhhh physically he looks somewhere between kaidan alenko and harvey guillen. he likes podcasts, video games, and synthpop. also kind of a shy-but-friendly personality, maybe a bit shyer than me tho. normal human man, keeps me sane 👍

[berenshand]

pLease talk about why benedick and claudio are foils!! i’ve only just gotten into much ado and i’m thirsty for analysis 👀👀

hoooo eee you opened a can of worms here my friend. there is literally nothing i would rather talk about than this. im so sorry i am not kidding when i say i wrote an essay in response to this

Ok so, a big theme in Much Ado is realistic vs idealized love, and there’s also a lot of generalizations about love, but Claudio and Benedick generalize about love in totally opposite ways. At the beginning of the play, Claudio sees Hero and immediately thinks ‘she is beautiful and I would like to marry her’. Sure, he’s seen her before, but he was distracted because he was, you know, about to go to war, but in the first scene, he tells Don Pedro that he “liked her ere I went to wars.” Like, he didn’t realize he was in love with her til after, but it was love at first sight.

Claudio, through the whole play, is idealistic – he wants everything to be perfect, to be black and white. There is no room for ‘maybe’ in his character (which, unfortunately means he does not use his brain cells). When he talks about Hero, he almost always talks about her beauty or her chastity. He’s focused on the superficial, and he’s hyperbolic (almost like Romeo). He’s trying really hard to be the perfect courtly lover stereotype – he can’t just say ‘Hero is beautiful’, oh no, he has to say “she is the sweetest lady that ever I looked on”. Benedick even says Claudio used to speak “plain and to the purpose” but now his words are “fantastical”. So Claudio is way over the top.

Claudio expects everything to be perfect. Another big theme in the play is appearance vs reality. Claudio thinks that because Hero looks perfect, she must be perfect, and Claudio seems to be incapable of interpreting things beyond the surface-level, which is foreshadowed when he sees Don Pedro with Hero. He literally planned this with Don Pedro, but as soon as Don John and Borachio show up and say ‘oh by the way, DP’s in love with Hero’, Claudio’s like ‘damn, Don Pedro must be in love with Hero’. Y’all know Shakespeare loves a soliloquy, and Claudio does get one here, but it isn’t a ‘hm should I listen to Don John who is notoriously untrustworthy’ soliloquy, it’s a ‘well I guess Don Pedro screwed me over’ soliloquy. Claudio sees/hears something, has no evidence to contradict it and says ‘well, that must be true’. He doesn’t look for counter evidence or take Don John’s character into account. He’s gullible, black-and-white, and idealistic. If someone says something he can’t, for a fact, disprove, it must be true.

Later, when he accuses Hero, he says, “O Hero, what a Hero hadst thou been, / If half thy outward graces had been placed / About thy thoughts and counsels of thy heart!” He’s finally learned that people aren’t always what they seem, but HE LEARNED IT FROM THE WRONG PERSON because he always sticks with his first impression, instead of like, trusting the person he loves and wants to marry. His first instinct was to believe Don John at the party that Don Pedro isn’t a loyal friend, and a few scenes later, to believe Hero isn’t a loyal fiancée. His trust is completely based on perfection: he wants people to be perfect, and when they aren’t, he doesn’t just like. move on. He completely goes off the rails. In the party scene, he’s furious with Don Pedro, which makes him snap at Benedick and storm off in a huff (meanwhile Benedick is stood there like ????????????), and when he accuses Hero, he can’t just do it quietly. Like Beatrice complains, he waits til they are in church in front of God and everybody and completely destroys her life. He learns one negative thing about her and her perfection is destroyed and he will never love again.

Benedick, on the other hand, does not believe in love at first sight. He doesn’t believe in love at all. Nearly every single one of his lines in the first scene is him complaining about love. He says every man who marries will eventually “wear his cap with suspicion”. (This means married men have to wear caps to cover up their cuckold horns – Elizabethans had a sort of… urban legend that if your wife cheated on you, you would grow horns). So Benedick is basically saying ‘women will never be faithful’ (the irony of this is apparent later when Balthasar sings “men were deceivers ever”). However, Benedick also says a lot of stuff about being a ladies man??? He’s very inconsistent – the whole ‘appearance vs reality’ thing comes up with him too bc its like he really doesn’t want people to think he’s interested in romantic love but he also really wants them to think he can Get It. Who is the real Benedick????? We don't really know bc he keeps swapping personalities. Personally I think it’s interesting how Shakespeare seems to like flipping the connotations we expect… in Romeo and Juliet, he gives day a negative connotation and night a positive one, which is almost unheard of in western literature, and in Much Ado, the consistent character (Claudio, who is consistently gullible and idealistic) is a much less positive character then the inconsistent one (Benedick, who has no clue what he is doing ever).

A few scenes later, Benedick is in the garden complaining about how men make fun of other men who fall in love, then become the exact thing they’re complaining about by falling in love “and such a man is Claudio”. He goes on to say he will never fall in love (methinks he doth protest too much), but if he does the woman he loves will be perfect in every way. On the surface, it sounds like he has high standards, but what he’s really saying is ‘I will never marry because no such woman exists’ (not unlike Beatrice saying a man with no beard is too young for her but a man with a beard is too old – she’s saying she won’t marry because there is no such man in between – you either have a beard or you don’t). Benedick is an idiot, but not that kind of idiot. He knows the perfect woman doesn’t exist. Where Claudio is idealistic, Benedick is realistic.

……and then like one page later, he hears his friends say Beatrice loves him and he goes ‘oh hell yeah I will be horribly in love with her’. His soliloquy from earlier that said ‘men are idiots because they mock love then fall in love’? He’s proving himself right. But the difference between him and Claudio is that he can always acknowledge Beatrice’s faults. Even in the very beginning, he says Beatrice is prettier than Hero, though she is unfortunately “possessed with a fury”. Even now, when he’s deluded into thinking she loves him, and he’s listing off her virtues, he can still say she is “wise, but for loving me; by my troth, it is no addition to her wit”, and not only is he acknowledging her faults, he’s also acknowledging his. He even decides to be kind to her because he hears his friends roasting him and thinks ‘wow am I like that? I need to fix that’. While Claudio refuses to even consider that he might be wrong about distrusting Hero, Benedick is making a list of his own flaws and calling it Things I Need To Work On. Claudio’s list is more like Things I Am Right About Without Doing Any Critical Thinking.

What this all boils down to, for me, anyway, is again, that idea of realistic vs idealistic. Claudio is idealistic about himself too. He always thinks he’s right. Benedick knows he has flaws and actively tries to fix them. Claudio has unrealistic expectations of perfection. That whole ‘love is not love which alters when it alteration finds’ thing does NOT apply to him. If he finds an alteration he will not only stop loving you, he will give up on love forever, and ruin your entire life in front of every single person you know. He thinks love is nice. That it’s a warm fuzzy feeling that makes you feel like chirping birds helped you get dressed in the morning. But Benedick knows that love is a choice. His love for Beatrice isn’t love at first sight. In fact, they had a past relationship that ended badly. His feelings for Beatrice change on a dime because he decides he is going to love her, which is a crucial part of any real relationship, romantic or otherwise. We have to choose to love people in spite of their failings because everyone has failings. If we give up on everyone who fails us, we will be alone – just like Claudio and Don Pedro end up isolated from everyone in Act 4 and 5.

When Hero and Claudio reconcile, they slip right back into their dramatic overwrought nonsense – Hero’s all ‘I truly was dead, because you killed me, but I have returned to life’. Beatrice and Benedick are like “I take you for pity” and ‘here’s a shitty sonnet you wrote about me lmao’. Claudio and Hero feel like Romeo and Juliet 2.0, but Beatrice and Benedick sound like your favourite real-life married couple because they can make fun of each other. So again, Shakespeare is playing with expected connotations: the person who’s more serious should probably be a more positive character than the one who can’t take anything seriously, but it’s Benedick, who literally never stops joking around, who is the positive character, and Claudio, who takes everything Very Seriously, who ends up looking like an idiot.

This is a really long answer but basically, they’re foils because Benedick is unserious, realistic, and introspective, while Claudio is serious, idealistic, and self-righteous.

[blitzgamev]

Happy four hundred and eighty-nine months in limbo ghostbur :D

[luvluvnitrodynamite]

jealous jujutsu kaisen characters <3

ft. itadori yuuji, gojou satoru g/n!reader (sfw, with some suggestive themes in gojou)

itadori yuuji - watching itadori get jealous is a bit cute, if you're being honest. i mean, take what happened in the grocery store yesterday. ~ "yuuji, we're out of rice," you say to him, re-checking your list. "we're out of rice??? impossible. i just had some yesterday." you sigh. "be that as it may, that doesn't change the fact that we don't have it anymore. can you grab it really fast?" he pouts a bit. you're not sure if he genuinely doesn't want to leave your side or if he's just stalling to remember where the rice aisle is. regardless, you don't want to stand here all day. "yuuji, i'll give you a kiss as a reward if you get it for me." he perks up immediately, giving you a grin and a thumbs up before dashing in the opposite direction. you smile to yourself. itadori may have been an idiot, but he's your idiot. the thought warms your heart. you push your cart of the produce section and into a large selection of rows, choosing one closest to you. you seem to be in the tea aisle. oh good, you think. we've been out of tea for a couple of days now. you peruse the section, picking up some green tea. you get some chamomile as well, stacking the boxes carefully so they won't get crushed by fruits. mmm what about chai? you search the boxes, only to see it's at the very top self. you reach up, fingers just barely touching the platform it's on. you can't even brush up against the box. you try standing on tiptoes, looking a bit silly as you try to extend your body beyond its natural length. you're thinking maybe you should wait for itadori to get back when a different hand easily plucks the box off the shelf. you follow the hand to its owner, to see it belongs to a tall guy about your age. he's cute you suppose, but it's no itadori. still, you smile sweetly and charm him with a "thank you! there was no way I was going to reach that." He smiles broadly back at you. "No problem," he replies. "You like chai tea?" You want to be polite and he's nice enough, so you respond "definitely! I don't know if it's my favorite, but it's a staple in my pantry." He blushes a bit, and scratches his hand behind his neck. "Yeah, same," he says. "There's actually a really nice café that opened up a few blocks away from here. They make a mean cup of chai, and they have these delicious little cinnamon rolls that go really well with them. If you're free any time soon, do you want to try one with me?" You open your mouth to politely turn him down when you feel a protective arm wrap around your waist. You turn your head to see a pink-cheeked itadori glaring at the stranger. he does look mad, but you also think he just looks so cute. ah, the duality of man. "oh, hi yuuji! did you get the rice?," you ask him. you have priorities, after all. "yeah," he says, not moving his arm or his gaze. "who's this, love?" oh, he's really jealous if he's pulling out the love. you try to defuse the situation. "oh, this guy just helped me get some tea from the top shelf. thanks again!" you say. the guy was not expecting a wild itadori to emerge from the tall grass, and is trying to figure a way out. "no problem," he repeats. "i'll see you around, yeah?" without waiting for a response, he puts the tea in your cart and walks away. "did you know that guy?" you ask, as itadori relaxes and puts the rice in the cart. "no, but it sure looks like you did," he says, a bit annoyed. "yuuji, are you jealous?" you tease. "no! of course not!" he retorts. his cheeks are still pink though, and now he's looking around like he expecting another guy to run through and sweep you up in their arms. you decide to take mercy on him, and tug one of his hands in your own. "hey, don't i owe you a reward for getting my rice?" he perks up, and flicks his gaze almost imperceptibly towards your mouth. you sweetly press his lips to his cheek, and smile innocently when he gives you an annoyed look. you turn around to go the cart, only to see that the tea guy has returned. itadori sees him too, and he looks mad again. however, instead of confronting him, he looks at you and says,

"c'mon, i meant a real kiss." he gently places his hands on your face and pulls you in. it's a light, yet passionate kiss. the rhythm is slow and soft, but there's a definite intensity behind it. his tongue has just swiped your bottom lip, entering your mouth when you remember that you're in public. you pull away and glance at the end of the aisle. the guy is gone. you glance at itadori. he is grinning triumphantly at you. you smile in spite of yourself, going back over to the cart. "yuuji?" he comes over, wrapping his arms around you and placing his head over your shoulder. "yes, my love?" "you got the wrong kind of rice." ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ gojou satoru - a jealous gojou is not a good gojou. if you think he's annoying normally, it's about to get so, so, so much worse. ~ "satoru please!" you beg. you're feeling desperate now, there's no other way out. you two have gone to the park for a picnic to savor one of his rare days off. the spot you chose was warm and sunny with few people around; the day was supposed to be lovely. and it was, at least for a while. you had spent just the last hour cloud-watching, peacefully pointing out odd shapes in the sky. really though, you were just taking an excuse to lay on his stomach and talk. you two get so little time together like this that you try to savor every moment. however, in your analysis of a banana-shaped cloud far on the horizon, you noticed a familiar shape. the shape of your ex, to be precise. you stiffen, and gojou notices. "hey," he says. "what's wrong?" you don't respond immediately; your mind is swirling with schemes to avoid them. if you guys packed up now, could you go without being noticed? no, you were too close. could you hide? no, there wasn't anywhere to duck behind. you had to stop time somehow, but how? gojou waves his hand over your face. "hey? everything ok down there? have you gone into the void?" he asks. you start to glare at him, but then his words hit you in the face. the void. he can draw your ex into the void while you make a hasty getaway. you sit up, dropping your angry look and switching to a more saccharine one. "satoru," you start. "can you do a favor for me?" he gives you an easy smile. "of course, anything for you," he replies. "great, can you trap the person in the white shirt over there into the infinite void?" that certainly gets his attention. "i'm sorry, what?" he asks incredulously. "ok, so that's my ex over there. things ended kind of...awkwardly, and I just don't want to deal with this right now. could you trap them into the void before they notice me?" "i don't think the relationship was the thing that was awkward love. maybe you should just, you know, face the problem head on?" he suggests. "it can't be that bad. and even if it is, at least it'll be entertaining. actually, i'll give you two some privacy!" he says cheerfully, and promptly leaves. that brings you to your current predicament. you could be responsible and mature, but that would involve getting over your breakup. you may have slightly understated the awkwardness of the situation. truthfully, you got dumped and you pined over your ex for weeks afterward. you especially did not take it when when you were being broken up with. you begged them not to leave you while crying, making quite the scene in the restaurant they had chosen. now, with no lingering emotions, you just feel guilty and embarrassed for how you acted. but that was in the past, and you could move past that as long as it wasn't walking up to you. and now with gojou walking away, and them walking up...oh no. oh no oh no ohnonono. you take a deep breath in, and breathe out. i'm not the same person i was then, you think to yourself. this thought steadies your nerves; in fact, maybe gojou was right. you have been wondering what they’ve been up to, after all, and you might stop feeling guilty if you apologize. a bright and cheerful “hey!!” jolts you out of your thoughts; there they are. “hey,” you respond, a bit less cheerfully. you push yourself up off the ground to

greet them, and are a bit surprised when they pull you into a hug. it’s a more intimate hug than you would have guessed, with their hands snaking around your waist and gently cradling your head. they smell...nice, you think to yourself. as you pull away, you feel watched. you’re not sure from where, since you can’t see him, but you know gojou is watching you. well, good. he refused to help you out of this mess, so maybe you’ll make him suffer a bit. neither one of you say anything for a second.. “so….i guess how are you?” they ask you, smiling. “i’m great,” you reply. “how are you?” you ask. “good.” you stand there, neither one of you wanting to interrupt the delicate silence. “so,” you both say at the same time. you guys laugh, and just like that, the weird silence dissipates. “you go first,” they say to you. “well, i just want to say that i’m sorry. i know breaking up was probably hard for you, but i think i just made it harder by, you know, being unable to let us go. that was unfair to you and it definitely made things harder for me, so i’m really sorry about that.” “oh, wow,” your ex say, a bit surprised. “well, that sort of contrasts what i’m about to say. i was going to say that you were right.” huh? what? you furrow your eyebrows together, and stare back with a bemused expression. “i was right?” you venture. “about...what?” your ex sheepishly scratches the back of their head, giving you an embarrassed smile. “about us, i mean. you kept telling me that we were better together, and that we would only be unhappy apart. i know it’s been a while since we were together, but lately it’s all i can think about. i….still think i love you.” well, that was a bombshell. you just stare at them, stunned into silence. “sorry, i know that this is way too much for just meeting again; you just looked so beautiful and it reminded me of when we were together and i just miss being together and -- ah, i’m rambling like a crazy person now, aren’t i?” they wryly ask. you giggle. “just a bit,” you respond. they take your hands into theirs, tracing their thumb lightly over your skin. their eyes are honest, and their face is hopeful. “i know this is really sudden, but would you maybe want to get dinner with me soon? you don’t have to, of course, but…?” they pull one hand out, and drift it up to your face, caressing your jawline with such care that if you were not previously engaged, you might have melted into their arms right there. but you already had a boyfriend, even if he was an annoying one. you thought briefly about pretending to accept their offer, just to needle him, but decided against it. instead, you just kindly smiled at your ex, and pull their hand from your face. “this is really sweet,” you say. “but, unfortunately, i’m already taken.” their face falls, but they quickly mask it with a smile. “ah, i get it. someone as amazing as you would get snapped up fast. it was just my mistake to let you go,” they say, pulling back. “well, why don’t we start over with this. how about instead of a romantic dinner date, we just get coffee sometime. no love attached,” they add. “sure,” you respond. “i have been wanting to know what you’ve been up to.” “same here, how about tomorrow at 11?” they ask. “it’s a date!” you joke. “now, what’s a date?” you hear a familiar, slightly pouty voice from behind you. of course. why wouldn’t gojou appear at the worst possible time. you turn to your boyfriend, who has a shit-eating grin on his face. he’s planning something, but what? “hey ‘toru, this is my ex." you face your ex. "this is my boyfriend, gojou satoru." your ex smiles at him, blissfully unaware. "nice to meet you. we were just planning on getting some coffee soon." “oh, is that so? you’re not trying to steal my love away from me, are you?” there’s no threat in his voice, no hostility, but all the same your ex seems to pick up on his vexing energy and straightens up a little bit. “no, of course not,” they say. “hmmm, i believe you. but all the same, i could have sworn i heard talk of

a date. that reminds me love, weren’t we just finishing up on a date ourselves?” you sigh. “yes, we were.” turning to your ex, you turn back to say goodbye. that, however, is cut off by your lovely boyfriend picking you up and throwing you over his shoulder like a sack of flour. shocked, you pound your fists against his back. “gojou satoru, put me down right now.” gojou ignores you, instead sticking one hand out to shake your ex’s hand. “sorry to cut this short, but we simply must finish our date back at our place. wish i could invite you, but this is a more private activity.” he cheerfully states. mortified, you start kicking him and hitting him even harder. “ ‘toru! put me down so i can dump you right here and now!” “ahh, can’t have that now. we’d best get going so that someone learns a lesson, see you around!” with that and a quick sweep down to gather the picnic supplies, gojou carries you kicking and screaming out of the park. once outside, he puts you down. “satoru, what the absolute hell was that??? that was so embarrassing!” you cry out. “it was your idea to let me deal with that, and then you swoop in once it’s all taken care of? now they’re going to think i’m...i’m... i don’t even know what they’ll think of me, but i’m sure it won’t be positive!” “shhhh,” says gojou. “you might make a scene.” if you were mad before, well, now you’re apoplectic. “a scene???? i might make a scene?” you spit out seethingly. the entire way home, you tear into him for embarrassing you in front of your ex and an entire park full of people. finally, you get home and you drop the j-word. “and all this because you were just jealous??” now that you’ve dropped the threshold of your front door and pulled the trigger, gojou’s entire demeanor shifts. he drops the picnic supplies and picks you up again, but instead of going over his shoulder you’re now up against the wall. you instinctively wrap your arms and legs around him to keep from falling, skillfully intertwining your bodies together. his blindfold has slipped off, and now his piercing blue eyes are pouring into yours with a powerful intensity. your previous angry words slip off into the void, as you’re transfixed by the way he’s staring at you. he leans forward to rest his forehead against yours, the tips of your noses just barely touching. “yeah,” he breathes. “i got jealous. i let an ex come up to you and try to take you away, and i only sat there and watched. i knew you would never cheat on me, but i just got annoyed with myself for encouraging that. you mean too much to me to just let you be taken by someone else, so i really wanted to get you out of there as fast as possible. so, yeah, i’m sorry for embarrassing you. let me make it up to you?” it’s hard to say no in this position, but you try to hold your resolve. “satoru, you just can’t do that. promise me you’ll never do that again?” he’s still looking at you with that seriousness, so he replies “yes” with uncharacteristic sincerity. there’s nothing out of character though about the way he moves in to kiss you though, full of desire and need. you fall into a steady rhythm, a sweet push-and-pull of dominance flicking between you two. gojou suddenly takes over, and just as suddenly, he pulls away and starts carrying you to the nearest flat surface. “let me show you how much you mean to me, yeah?”

[tempenensis]

Nanami: the duality(s) of man

Nanami Kento (七海 建人) is arguably one of the more complex characters in jjk. A lot of contrasts are packed in one character, it’s actually amazing. And yet, he is still so relatable. 

Nanami’s name in kanji is actually interesting. His family name, Nanami (七海) is written with “seven” (七) and “sea” (海) kanji, but it also can be read as “seven” (七 = nana) “three” (三 = mi), a suggestion to his cursed technique. His given name, Kento (建人), is written with “build” (建) and “man” (人) kanji. 

1. Office worker and Grunt work

Nanami is introduced by Gojo as his peer and junior, a trusted and reliable friend. He is depicted in a full suit and tie, with neat haircut - nothing less than salaryman image Gojo calls him. Without his unique glasses, you won’t be able to differentiate him from common office worker. He’s the stiff seriousness formality in contrast to Gojo’s easy, overly friendly and overly informal attitude. Even during their first meeting, he demands a formal introduction from Itadori. He also returns Itadori’s formal introduction with one of his own, even if it’s used for comedic effect.

“Where moderate effort is sufficient, use moderate effort.”

His words in answer to Itadori’s excitement and going all out when the boy is finally getting his chance for mission in the field. Only people who is familiar with routine, boring works in office can say things like this. Routine work is indeed, sufficient with moderate effort, nothing anyone should exert too much effort. In addition, during combat or “work”, he is strict with his time allocation. At a glance, it looks like another part of his salaryman image - even if it is actually something else. 

All these formal conducts are direct reflection of his nickname of an ex-salaryman. But compared to his image, his cursed technique is far from the image of an office worker. 

Nanami’s innate technique is called Ratio cursed technique (十劃呪法 : Tookaku juuhou), where he forcibly creates a weak point in his opponent by dividing them into tenths and hit it on the critical point of seven-to-three. He uses a wide sword wrapped in seals for it. It is a technique that demand physical strength and excellent eye-hand coordination of the user - which are usually not attributed to office worker, but rather, manual laborer who uses their physical strength.  

Unfortunately, I’m working overtime now

Here, the original text of Nanami’s Overtime Work is 時間外労働 (: jikangai roudou). 労働 (roudou) can be translated both as general term of working and manual labor. During Overtime work, the technique he uses is Collapse (瓦落瓦落 = garagara, literally “Tile fall”, but it’s also an onomatopoeia for rattling sound), which is fundamentally similar to Itadori’s attack - a physical blow from his fist infused with huge amount of cursed energy.

2. Anti-social and people-magnet

Nanami is someone who thought himself to be distanced from people, either normal people or the same jujutsushi, but in actual... well, people-magnet is not the right term but Nanami is someone who is attracted to people. He come off as stiff and cold, but he is highly empathic to others, just like Itadori. 

Right on their first meeting, after introducing himself, Nanami said that he doesn’t acknowledge Itadori as a jujutsushi, because even if he doesn’t like it, he still follow the rules. He asks Itadori to prove himself despite housing Sukuna. 

Itadori is Sukuna’s vessel. He should be executed immediately as per jujutsu rules. It’s only because Gojo’s protection that he still breathes, even get to be educated as jujutsushi. Not too long ago before this moment, he was killed by a special-grade that Gojo suspected to be a foul play from the upper management. And even after this, Itadori is targeted by other jujutsushi who want to kill him without first trying to know the human he actually is. 

Nanami at the first glance looks like he is too serious, too fixated to the rules imposed to jujutsushi. However for Nanami, a rule-abiding jujutsushi, willing to cooperate with Itadori - the Sukuna’s vessel that others want to executed - on a mission, give him a chance to prove himself, and even teach him stuffs, speaks how he is actually not so cold-hearted as he makes himself to be.

At first, on the mission, they don’t get along. Itadori who can make friends with people he only just met in a heartbeat, has a hard time reading Nanami. Not only because of their different personality, but Nanami is also protecting Itadori as a child. For an adult to be able to see the Sukuna’s vessel as an actual child, even protecting him, it really speaks something. 

And further down, he also protects Itadori as the more experienced jujutsushi. He wants to protect Itadori’s innocence as young jujutsushi as long as possible.

Itadori is highly empathic of other people. His motivation is to give people proper death - whoever they are. Nanami realizes this when Itadori gets angry about the transfigured human they fight in the cinema, that their death are wrong in his eyes. This mission is the worst early mission for Itadori - someone who is highly empathic but has to face an enemy that transfigure human. Killing people will hurt him emotionally. That is why Nanami forbid Itadori to go after Mahito with him.  

Nanami works as jujutsushi after he retired from being an office worker. And before that, he ran away from jujutsu world because of the accident with Haibara. Haibara was his friend in the same grade who was killed one year after Hidden Inventory arc.

後は頼む (I’ll leave the rest to you)

It is possibly the final words that Haibara said to Nanami, making him realized how shitty jujutsushi are - as he was forced to abandon the live of his friend for the sake of other people. The death of Haibara hurt them badly - it did not only made Nanami run away from being a jujutsushi, but also the final push that made Getou finally stray from the “right path”.

And ever since, Nanami distanced himself from jujutsu world, and to an extent, people. He called his office job to be “out of human cycle” and poured all of himself into earning more money. He forced himself to be apathetic. It didn’t matter if he had money - or so he thought. 

He just exorcised a small fry to make the baker’s feel better, but the emotional effect of the passing gratitude on Nanami is very deep. He stopped to be a jujutsushi because of people, but he also returned to be one because of people. He is even still empathic to transfigured human used by Mahito in their fight, despite claiming that he doesn’t bring his personal feeling to work. 

3. Adult of adult 

Finding more hair loss on your bedside, your favorite deli bread disappears from local convenience store... The accumulation of those little despairs is what makes someone an adult.

The way we move on from despairs, little or big, the way we accept it as part of ourselves, let it mold us to be the person that we are today. Nanami refers the “despairs” to come from the smallest things. But accumulation of small things can become a mountain - and vice versa, a mountain is accumulation of small rocks.

The death of Haibara is something that he has to "accumulate”, shaping Nanami to be the adult that he is and maybe even forcing him to be “an adult” earlier. Ijichi even calls Nanami 大人オブ大人 - adult among adults, due to his maturity despite being younger than Gojo. The way he protects Itadori as a child is mainly because he is still affected by this tragedy during his youth and doesn’t want Itadori to face the harsh reality of being a jujutsushi so early, as Itadori is still pretty new not only as jujutsushi, but also to the overall jujutsu world. 

Unfortunately, the harsh reality decides to go right to Itadori’s doorstep - and the only thing Nanami can do is to trust Itadori to do the right thing, as he believes Itadori has what it takes to be a proper jujutsushi. 

4. Greed and Acceptance 

I am a human who never related to “things worth doing” or “things worth living for”. I’ll earn suitably until 3,40 years old, then I’ll enjoy living easily in country with low living cost.

Retiring early was Nanami’s main drive after he left Jujutsu high. He worked away from people and wanted to retire to a place also away, especially from his kind of people. And all that’s left for him to cling to is the greed to earn more money. 

But Nanami is far from actually greedy. Being greedy implies to die with regrets and as Principal Yaga said, no jujutsushi dies without remorse. If Itadori won’t regret the way he lives, then Nanami is the person who is actually able to die without leaving any regrets. And that alone speaks how much closer and similar Nanami actually is to Itadori compared to others.

There are only a few moments Nanami smiles - and both instances are when he is on the verge of death. First before he was saved by Itadori (more accurately Sukuna) from Mahito’s domain, and then his actual last moment, he smiles as he passes his last words to Itadori. The same last words that Haibara said to him before his death.

I’ll leave the rest to you 

From Haibara to Nanami, from Nanami to Itadori. He passes this words with heavy feeling, as it will “curse” Itadori to keep moving, to keep being a jujutsushi and walk in this harsh reality. It is not something that Nanami want Itadori to face - even young Nanami couldn’t bear the burden of being jujutsushi. 

But this is the path that they have decided to walk on, and the way of living that they won’t - and in Nanami’s case didn’t - regret. And the only option left for Itadori is to continue walking on this path with all its harsh reality. 

And now, Itadori is “cursed”. 

[ironmandeficiency]

I saw y'all discussing potential zodiac signs for Pascal's characters, what's your take on the major ones? I personally believe Marcus Pike is a cancer, Catfish's a pisces, Din's a virgo, Whiskey's an aries, Oberyn's either a leo or a libra, Ezra's a gemini or a sag, but I lean towards gemini. Javier's the poster child for Scorpio. Don't know about Maxwell Lord.

pedro character star signs

i’m so sorry it took so long, i was tweaking this so much bc i wanted to make sure i got it right! these are just what i think based on my astrology opinions, i hope you like it! 💕 i added their moon signs for flair bc i can. gonna tag a few friends i think may be interested, hope it’s not an inconvenience

max phillips: aries sun & moon. his ambition and charisma paired with the carefree attitude and optimism are an optimum fire sign duality and despite the fact i shouldn't, i love it so much. he has an inner child that he spoils with the riches of his conquests (good and bad) & gets emotional contentment when he succeeds in achieving his goals. knows what he wants & is quick to make those wants known. you never have to worry about where you stand with him because he will not hesitate to tell you.

javier peña: taurus sun with scorpio moon (the real guy is a taurus & i can see it but w heavy scorpio influence). he has his own structure and routine and will fight to the death to maintain it. very work oriented & does his best to rationalize his emotion-driven scorpio moon with his taurean logic, it's a tossup as to whether it works half the time. has a lot of emotional needs that aren't always met day to day & thats why he smokes and drinks and fucks. but don’t let anything make you doubt his love for you because the only thing stronger than his stubborn streak is his heart and its capacity to love you so damn much.

maxwell lord: libra sun with a sagittarius moon. the charisma? attractive and engaging af. oddly adept at chameleoning himself into whatever social group he's trying to vibe with. will draw eyes no matter what because so many people know him & if they don't already, they sure as hell want to. it takes him a while to learn to balance healthy relationships and his work life but when he does, you can visibly see how much healthier he is because of it. normally tends to his emotions in private but with help, he can start sharing a bit more. more optimistic than he sometimes should be but it could be worse

frankie morales: pisces sun with a cancer moon. his caring and sometimes cautious nature (with a twinge of homicidal tendencies) make him one that you don't just casually fuck with sexually or otherwise. catches feelings very easy & makes a lot of emotionally-driven decisions. these two water signs have a propensity towards codependence & defensiveness when hurt. is at his best when he feels loved and is supported by those he loves. emotions are always fluctuating and there’s some trouble with self-discipline (which is not the same as self-deprecation). because of this, he needs someone who can ground him

jack "whiskey" daniels: his swagger!! his charm!! his generosity!! the protectiveness over people he cares about!! this has the makings of a leo sun. this charismatic sun sign paired with his capricorn moon create a living example of the most balanced "work hard, play hard" you've ever seen. has a tendency to set high standards for himself and others & is a smidge more accepting when people fuck up, wanting to help them be better in the future. his emotions are often repressed in the name of responsibility but when he feels safe, he isn’t shy about them in the slightest. very confident in his skills & one of those that he’s the proudest of is his ability to cheer you up when you’re sad

din djarin: he is the most virgo virgo to ever virgo, a double whammy of it in both his sun & moon placements. very logical, disciplined, and tradition-oriented. knows how to bargain and budget, approaches problems with as little emotional attachment as he can (doesn't always work though), and is selfless af. needs something to keep him from being a worry wart bc otherwise he will spend every waking moment fretting over anything he can find. remarkably well-rounded & somehow the most emotionally stable

ezra: everything about this man radiates aquarius sun + gemini moon and you will never convinve me otherwise. he's just enough of an intellectual elitist (the big words and flowy shakespearian vocabulary) for it to border on unique and fun & annoying as fuck. every aquarian i've met has a quirk that sets them apart from everyone else & ezra's quirk (besides murder) is his vocabulary. it takes him a long time to learn to not talk over people on accident (sometimes he does on purpose just to be a bastard), but you can tell when he’s really trying to be conscious of it.

marcus moreno: now this man is what you call a pisces. a softie with a heart of gold that is constantly being underestimated, he has more power than most think. his silly and carefree nature detracts from the badassery he's capable of so it sometimes catches you off guard when he goes into Badass In Charge™️ mode but it’s there. his moon is also in pisces, which adds to his gentility and desire to be understood by his partner. this man just needs some love dammit, give it to him already!! his empathy makes him the Cool Dad™️ bc missy and literally any other kid get the vibe of “yeah this adult will actually listen to me and value my opinions”

dave: capricorn sun, aries moon. he thrives with people who can handle their own shit competency kink anyone? and doesn’t have patience with those who should know better. his standards are higher than a stoned giraffe, and is at his best in controlled environments. has a strong sense of self & a short list of people he would risk it all for. not as outwardly expressive but he does have a couple cues that you learn over time. also knows what he wants and is very meticulous in how he goes about getting it; there are very few places where he takes no for an answer. is a very good provider but don’t expect him to be mushy when you thank him for things he does for you.

oberyn martell: gemini sun & leo moon. he’s got more charisma than can fit in the ocean and sometimes it gets him into trouble. this man thrives on validation from loved ones. there is never a worry about not knowing what he’s feeling because oh boy is this man expressive. he’s a protector and a provider (and a gossip but don’t let him hear you say that). can and will cause a scene if there’s ample opportunity, he enjoys watching shit go down. will only interfere if it directly impacts him or someone he really cares about but otherwise will just pop the popcorn and pull up a seat. somehow has all the details of everything that ever happens but you learn to not question it.

pero tovar: scorpio sun (but specifically october scorpio) & aquarius moon. he’s highly rational when it comes to emotions but does have a temper. he’s observant af of his environment & the emotions of everyone around him, and chooses his actions carefully based on those. doesn’t confront his deeper emotions as often as he should bc it’s easier to default to Angy™️ and let the rest of the world come to their own assumptions. has no tolerance for lies and other bs, wants the truth and though it makes him seem power-hungry and manipulative, that’s not his intention. it’s just his way of looking for someone he can trust with the most intimate parts of him

marcus pike: this man? taurus sun, cancer moon. has a fear of abandonment that takes a while to quell but once it’s gone, he’s all in. he’s very empathetic and observant af, will know exactly what you need before you voice said need. will feel guilty for his baggage sometimes and the guilt will make him recluse for a short period until he’s reminded just how appreciated he is. does not play around when it comes to affection & is very eager to give and receive it whenever possible

my friends that i think might be interested: @scribbledghost @autumnleaves1991-blog @dyke--grayson @max--phillips @dindjarindiaries @pikemoreno @ohnopoe @pedropasscals @forever-rogue @engineeredfiction @bitchin-beskar

[gojoscloset]

“Hello, I just read your writing d**k appointment and I like it very much. And suddenly, I saw that you open the request NSFW dialogue prompts. Would you please write prompt 60 “Looks like someone wants to be a dad/mom” with Gojo or Megumi please 🥺”

Bahaha omg I’m so sorry I’m late as hell I’ve been busy with a lot mentally cause I have the attention span of a goldfish.

Please please enjoy, thank you so much for requesting lol. I’m back on my bullshit ✨

60. “Looks like someone wants to be a mom/dad”

WARNINGS: N S F W

Reposted from previous account

Smut obvs.

Breeding kink???? (if you squint)

Cream pie

Mentions of Pregnancy

No proofread??

————-

“Looks like someone wants to be a mom.”

You didn’t dare look away from what you thought had to be one of the cutest pairs of baby shoes you have ever laid your eyes on.

“Hmm? What do you mean? I just thought they were cute!” you lifted the pair of shoes up and gave your boyfriend a grin.

But Satoru was no idiot.

You see, these past few months have been filled with nothing but waves of emotions and ideas that you would have never thought you would have contemplated this early in life, but a pregnancy scare earlier in the year shook your world and turned it on its axis.

Of course you had imagined a life with Satoru, possibly married in the later years, and a potential family way wayyy down the line. However, you were content with where you two stood. A strong and healthy relationship, 2 consenting adults in love. But you also had to remember you were 2 powerful sorcerers in love. So even with your line of work, kids at the moment seemed really out of the question. Hell, even being in a relationship with someone like Satoru was a blessing with the lives you two lived. So even the idea of bearing his child seemed like you were asking for a lot from the universe.

When your period came late, all your little fantasies and thoughts of having a family took a step closer to becoming reality, you melted at the idea of becoming a mother and all your fears and doubts were thrown out the window.

But alas, the joy left just as fast as it came you were back on your regular schedule the day before your doctor's appointment. Relieved of course, but things weren’t the same.

Day after day you caught yourself indulging more and more in the idea of what your life would be like with a child. Would your first child be a girl or a boy? Whose features would they take on the most? Oh how you prayed to the gods that they would look more like Satoru than anything.

Would you be a good mother? Would Satoru be a good father? There was no doubt in your mind that he would be.

Don’t even get started on the names.

Your gaze would linger when you would pass up children and their parents at a park. Or when you would pass up baby clothes at the shopping strip, you would stop in your tracks and imagine your future child wearing that outfit.

Secretly you would shop for clothes online just to ‘see what they look like’ Or secretly read first time mom forums on breddit just to ‘See how it feels’ but it was so much more than just a passing curiosity.

And of course, You weren’t the only one who noticed the change.

You and Satoru have been in the love game for a respectable amount of time, and have spent the seconds, hours,days,weeks,months,years, in each other's presence. He would absolutely be able to acknowledge when you’d turn your head in the kids section or when your gaze would linger on the little girls in princess dresses at the market, corners of your lips curling just a little.

Or when a toddler at the grocery store handed him a fake phone,in which he pretended to answer with such enthusiasm you would almost believe he was actually on the phone with someone,he could visibly see how your heart melted at the sight. You looked at him like you wanted to marry him on the spot for the rest of the day. A personal favorite memory of his.

Satoru was a dumbass, but he was not stupid.

You didn’t know how much he loved seeing these little things, the little changes in you. Behind his tinted shades and through his long lashes, he would carefully watch your duality go from powerful sorcerer to something maternal.Something you never did in all the time he has known you until after the scare.

It made him want to jump your bones on the spot and put a baby in you every time, but you never brought up the topic despite seeming to be interested in motherhood, and respectfully he left it alone. But you had been caught red handed almost always.

Satoru held himself back when he had various opportunities to talk about it, do you know how hard that is to do as Satoru?

He wanted to press on. He wanted to pry and ask you all kinds of questions regarding the sudden change, but he knew that there was a time and place for everything, and now was definitely not the time nor location.

“Hey, not bad!” He allowed his glasses to slip off the bridge if his nose ever so slightly to get a better view.

“I would wear these if they came in my size”

He joked, you smacked his arm playfully and laughed.

“Cmon lets g-“

You were about to place the shoes back on the rack but he stopped you before you did. He pulled out his phone and snapped a few photos of the shoes and tag.

“I was being serious” he stated plainly, earning another laugh from the both of you.

——

The rest of the day went on as normal, for the most part. The little interaction at the store replayed not only in your mind but Satoru’s as well.

‘Did I make it too obvious?’

‘Did I overdo it with the shoes?’

‘Is it time to talk about it?’

—-

‘Toru..’ you whined but that didn’t stop him from continuing to bend you like a pretzel while plowing into you.

“Don’t be shy now, you look so good like this. ...And those faces you make....” he licked his lips reaching out to grab your jaw, thumb running across your lip.

Even though you were whining about the embarrassing positions he kept putting you in, your body was on fire and didn’t want this to end.

With every position he managed to go deeper and deeper, hitting places only he knew how to hit. He utilized the curve of his dick just how you liked it, grazing your favorite spots with every thrust.

The way your walls fluttered and clenched against his made them his favorite spots too.

It was crazy to you how Satoru knew your body like nobody else did. He knew every curve, every dip, every corner. He knew what made you weak in the knees and what you disliked with a passion. He knew what made you cream, what made you wet, what made your back arch and your toes curl.

“You like that Hmm?” He bucked his hips, folding your legs up, pushing your knees as close to your chest as possible.

He gazed into your eyes, watching the way your face wrenched in pleasure. He needed that, he loved that. Being able to see your expression contour and twist because of him, god it got him off.

He looked down at you, his usually spiky hair now flattened with sweat, strands sticking to the side of his face. He bit his lip, and gripped your hips with force, bruises were guaranteed.

He brought you closer, you slowed your breathing to control the ride. You two had been fucking long enough to know the Cues, the way your body twitched and the little sounds you would make when you were close triggered the muscle memory and he moved in the way he knew would push you over the edge.

“D..Don't slow down!” You commanded, throwing your head back into the sheets, the familiar tingling sensation starting at your core, his pace picking up, hands trailing down your abdomen, fingers circling around your clit, wet with its own slick.

He couldn’t help but suck on his own bottom lip watching your body rock in rhythm with his, the way your breast bounced, he couldn’t help but grab a handful.

“That’s right baby….” he spoke softly, voice just above the lewd sounds you two we’re making. The squelching, skin slapping skin, the gasping sounds when he would thrust back into you.

He was getting carried away, letting the words just spill from his lips. “Mmmm fuck yeah baby, you feel so fucking good.” He groaned “fuck around and put a baby in you-“

You had been with this man for many many moons, had been through thick and thin, but nothing had prepared you two for that awkward moment.

All movements ceased the second he stopped talking. Both of you pulled away and just looked at each other, embarrassment demonstrated on both of your faces.

Both of you seemed to think about the Barget incident, and then every other incident which made the dirty talk hit different.

“Sorry” Quickly he spoke, in hopes of somehow saving his ass in case things went south.

“W-what for?” You continued to try and mask your feelings about the situation(s), but nothing could get past his eyes.

He was no idiot, you knew that, but you still tried him, because sometimes he lets your shit slide. But not this time.

“Please y/n, I’ve seen the change in you.”

The air was thick, momentarily, but the smile on his face gave you clarity.

“The lingering looks, the shoes at the store… I’ve noticed” his large hands cupped your face, thumb brushing calming shapes against your cheek.

“Is there something we need to talk about?”

He released you from your position and sat up straight.

“Toru…do you really wanna talk about this now?????” Sheepish under the circumstances

“Don’t give me that. We’ve been together too long for you to try and play this game with me.”

His hands found their way to you once again. Pulling you by the wrists, he sat you up and made you look at him as he continued to speak.

“Communication remember?” He was soft, yet stern.

“You haven’t been the same since the missed period incident.” Your jaw dropped, he was on it even with the timing.

There was no sense in hiding anything anymore, this man knows all, this man sees all.

“I’d be lying if I said you were wrong….you see..” you began to pour your heart out, trying your hardest to keep eye contact with him.

“The pregnancy scare heightened the want for a family with you, Satoru. I envision a lot of things, and you being in my future for a long long time is one of them...”

He held your gaze while looking at you like you were the most beautiful thing in the world. He listened intently like you were whispering the secrets of the universe to him.

“But I never brought up the topic of family because we’re-“

“Sorcerers” He finished the sentence for you, the small smile he held earlier now turned into a flat line.

The speed in which he did was almost enough to make you flinch. Bittersweet in a way,at least this confirmed that he too thought about a family with you at one point but considered the circumstances.

A“Exactly..” you continued. “And the scare made me realize what I want in life..with you. But it’s out of reach and it’s not something I wanted to project onto- “

His large hands placed themselves in either side of your face and Satoru showered you with kisses.

“I. Love. You. So. Much.” He spoke in between kisses.

“I love you too, but- AH!!! What are you doing??!”

Satoru pulled you by your ankles, placing himself in between your legs once again.

“Putting a baby in you, that's what.” He gave you such a sweet and loving look, it didn’t match the words that spewed from his lips.

“T-that’s not funny…” Quickly, you covered your entrance before he even thought about it.

“Exactly, because it wasn’t a joke sweetheart.”

“Wait, but what about-”

“We’ll be fine, i’m the strongest, remember?” he gave you a playful wink and grabbed your wrists, playfully prying your hands away, he wasn’t going to do anything though, not without your consent, but seeing how flustered he could make you fed the already enlarged ego he owned.

“Now tell me, do you want a boy or girl? Ooh, what about their names?”

“ Satoru… wait… are you sure? Don’t you wanna think about it a little more?”

He let out a playful laugh and pointed a finger dramatically at you, “Are you sure?”

Without missing a beat you nodded, you wanted this so bad, and by the looks of it, so did he.

“That’s all you had to say, let me take care of you, my pillow princess”

-------------

The sultry night was young.How many times have you came already? It didn’t matter.

His arms were wrapped around your entire body, holding you in place as he bounced you up and down his shaft.

“My pretty girl… my sweet sweet princess.” He whispered against your skin, tongue grazing from your collar bone up to your jaw, tasting your sweat. He wanted to breathe you in, and make you his air. The words replayed in his mind as he fucked you senseless.

“and you being in my future for a long long time is one of them...”

“Toru…” Your breathing hitched,, his praise made your walls twitch around him. He got the hint and immediately went to work. In a swift movement you were beneath his form. His skin glistening with a layer of sweat.

“ How do you want it?” he groaned, draping your leg over his shoulder while grabbing the other one, spreading you wider. You were grateful for the change of position, you have been wanting to touch him for a while now but the grip he had you in earlier was not letting it happen.

Your hands hungrily made his way to his chest and arms.

“As long...as I get it…” you managed to mutter through moans. His thrusts became erratic, a sign that he was coming undone as well.

“Look at me..tell me how you want it....tell me how you need it” he licked his lips with desire. You managed to look at him through half lidded eyes, giving him exactly what he wanted, he always did the same for you.

You lifted your hips up some, grinding harder against him, letting more of him fill you up, you could swear you felt his head kiss your cervix. You did a kegel, walls giving his dick a hug.

The actions earned you a breathy moan, he almost lost his cool, it threw off his pace momentarily but when he picked back up, the speed was doubled.

“You like to play dirty, hmm? “

“The only way I like to play…”

“Very well then” he said through grit teeth, finger moving to where you were connected, rubbing your clit in circles without mercy. You were pushed over the edge quickly, mouth Ajar, and body convulsing against him, his movements did not falter.

“That’s my good girl”

He lowered his body down mouth to cage you between his arms, droplets of sweat falling onto the sheets as he tried to avoid sweat falling into your eyes.

“Are you sure?”

He asked once again, not moving an inch until you gave him the go.

You simply stared up at him, goofy grin he always carried on him plastered onto his handsome face.

You gave him the go once again and he bucked his hips.

This particular moment was sweet sweet bliss. Normally Satoru would be careless with his movements when it came to chasing his orgasm, but not this particular one. His touches would linger, fingertips burning themselves into your skin with passion, making their way from your hips to your hands, large fingers filling in the gaps between your own.

His kisses were oh so immaculate. Sweet and soft, but most importantly, abundant.

And the way he spoke your name. Only Satoru could make his words come out like they were coated in honey.

His hips snapped and he gave your hand a squeeze, face in the crook of your neck, the hot breath against your skin forced chills down your spine, with you

“I love you so much…” he groaned into your ear. With a few more bucks of his hips you felt his seed spill into you. You were running on fumes at this point, overkill with the overstim, but that’s how you liked it.

You felt your clit throb, your walls still fluttering against him from your previous climax like they were sucking every last drop of out of him.

He looked down at you silently, but the look on his face, the calm waters in his eyes said everything he needed to say. You couldn’t tear away your gaze, you were already high off the blue dream.

His eyes moved from yours to your lips, they looked needy to him. He bent his head down and planted a kiss, despite the scenario, it was chaste. Innocent. Refreshing.

“I love you.” He repeated, though he had no doubt you felt the same. “I know you do...there is not a single doubt in my mind...and I love you oh so very much, more than I could ever put in words.”

There was another comfortable silence, however, the small smile that was on your face quickly turned into a flustered look when he pulled out of you and spread your legs open, looking at the mess he made inside of you.

“W-what the fuck are you doing?!!”

You laughed nervously and tried closing your legs, but he held them open, too strong for you to try and fight against it.

“I just wanted to see the masterpiece I made. Plus-“ he positioned himself between your legs again

“I’m not done, I want to make sure I get the job done right.”

He gave you a wink, and immediately you knew you were in for a long night.

A very very long night.

[sprawa-przybyszewskiej]

Gnostic inspirations in Przybyszewska’s works

At the highest point of her intellectual life, Stanisława Przybyszewska spent over 12 hours each day simply on writing her own works, continously, and with maniacal care, educating herself on absolutely everything (she was constantly looking for fields in which she might be a natural genius) and she rarely did anything else at all, which included things like earning a wage or sweeping her own floors. The effect of such existence was of course that she was severely depressed, but also thoroughly educated. It means that traces of whatever matter from history or philosophy can be spotted in her works, are most likely intentional and put there exactly with the hopes of showing her erudice.

One of such matters was gnosticism. Gnosticism is a set of beliefs which put emphasis on obtaining liberation from this life through gnosis (knowledge) and cast aside all that is not of the mind – so not only the flesh, but also the spirit. Without going into details of some specific gnostic rite it is simpler to say that gnostics value gnosis higher than any of their base beliefs and teachings (in Europe gnostics are mostly mentioned in relation to early christianity, Cathars are an example of this). Then the contrast one can find within religion (for example sin and liberation from it) is replaced with earthly illusion and gnosis, which frees one from the illusion and guarantees a higher level of life, of sorts (in gnostic beliefs, our presence on Earth is not linear, leading from birth, through life and death to afterlife, but resembles more of a ladder, with each rung leading closer to obtaining total knowledge, and simultenously losing all that tethers one to earthly illusions.

In literature, strong contrasts are a good indication we can look into it to spot gnostic inspirations or at the very least make a strong case they could be there, even if unintentional. In Przybyszewska's case, however,  they are all the more probable, for I vaguely recall she was well aware of the presence of these beliefs and everything she wrote on the nature of genius points in the same direction, too. She held these beliefs in her own, private set of core values, and there isn't any better place for her to show them to us but through her works. She presented us with an utopian vision of mental progress in her plays, while in her prose works, she focused on the darker side of the same things.

The axis of conflict in gnosticism is between the mind and the spirit. Robespierre is without a doubt a man of the mind much more so than of the spirit, and all the important figures surrouding him are more on the spiritual side of things (with Camille being the most prominent in this regard). Maxime has achieved the gnosis, the crown that will burn [his] brains right through.Before it happens, though, he is elevated onto another plane of understanding, a place where no other person can reach him, or even understand him:

Danton, of course, is lying.

(There is, sadly, no French translation of Thermidor; on another note, it took me this long to realize the French decided to change the person's tag from Camille to Desmoulines, which is suprising in the best sense of the word).

Robspierre is clearly constructed to be a genius, standing above everybody else and thus bearing greater responsibility, something which demands of him more than it does of others.  Madness which he suspects within himself at the end  is only a threat because it potentially leads to commiting mistakes, and a mistake is an unforgivable offence when it is committed by the one who ought to know better. Mistakes by a hand of another – for example Camille – are a different story altogether, for the majority of people not only don't achieve gnosis, but even cannot achieve it, their mental state isn't developed enough for them to grasp at the higher concepts. I think this is one of the reasons why Saint-Just's words: It is not madness, it's despair, are actually calming Robespierre down. Despair is simply a sign of being weary, something to be expected.

Maxime's knowledge and better judgement of everything is of course still a curse, leading to his death. In gnosticism, death isn't meant in a macabre sense, since it leads to yet another, higher rung of the metaphorical ladder we're standing on, but the gnosis obtained beforehand makes a death a good one instead of a waste. When Robespierre is going through his moment of despair at the end of The Danton Case, he betrays the gnosis he has in favour of admiting that the future will turn out differently than what could be expected: his death won't be a natural progression, but a failure, his depaire sets him back into the crowd of the sad, grey mass of the people who are not – like him – predestined to understand more.

From the linguistic point of view, I find it interesting that in the original and in the French version, he is using somewhat esoteric language (the future is under the sign of Danton – to my eyes, it is a clear refereance to the Zodiac signs, something which is supposed to predestine our futures, and which is also esoteric and ritualistic; given all the hints that she was abused by her satanist father, it makes a really sad, hopeless final note on the grand scheme of things for the humanity, that we, as humans, are incapable of running away from the brute forces which will continue to rule us simply because the world is built like this – not to mention the inability to change the future or even just the fate of one's life is a staple of gnostic beliefs).

No matter what he says about it, the inability to escape from one's fate is something which we rarely associate with Robespierre, because – as much as Przybyszewska makes it clear, thet he is a genius and thus everything he does he is not only allowed to do, but must do it for the greater good – he seems a bit like a self-made man, perhaps because we see him all the time in situations which are hard and difficult, but not impossible. A much more tragic situtation of the lack of escape from his own poor choices is being presented to us through Camille.

Camille has had a chance to be continously tethered to Maxime, securing for himself relevant safety in the public life, and calmess or even happiness in his private one. Yet he breaks with Robespierre over and over again, starting even before the plot of the play. Maxime reaches out to him against his better judgement, and Camille – also against his better judgement – decides to stay loyal to Danton. He is as if glued to his leader, even though he sees him clearly for what he is. Camille is an apotheosis of a spiritual being, someone ruled by impulses, perhaps even with the best of intentions, but whose mind will never achieve gnosis, the clear vision of what is right and true. When Robespierre argues with the Committee by demanding they leave Danton (and Camille by proxy) alone, he plots against Maxime in his newspaper; when Robespierre goes to him under the cover of night, he doesn't want to see him and then throws him out; when Robespierre tries to either break him free from the prison or at the very least console him by admitting his love (I never actually knew what was his plan here), he follows the advice of his bad influences and doesn't admit him. It's as if a strange force kept him by Danton's side, and I don't think it was any normal feeling (of shame or guilt) keeping him away from Maxime. In The Last Nights of Ventose he makes it quite clear being a stronger person's lap dog would never bring him shame, but honour, thus I don't think he'd have any problem with returning to Robespierre after a long while of abuse and slander.

The relationship Camille has with Danton is another aspect of gnosticism, namely its duality. Danton is a stand-in for Maxime, which doesn't work because Danton is anti-Robespierre, his negative double (much like in some gnostic beliefs world was created and being conducted by two gods, one good and one evil). It is unclear whether Camille had any real, true potential to serve "good" Robespierre, but  even if he didn't, if his friableness kept him from serving a greater purpose (which I don't know if I believe, in The Last Nights of Ventose we are presented with a very different portrayal of Camille, one who could achieve something much greater than he did if only he was by Robespierre's side at all times), serving the "evil" Danton couldn't possibly have a good outcome.

He even does return to Robespierre, for a short while, steered by emotions rather than anything else. But in this dualistic, gnostic reality, emotions have little to do, they aren't worth very much. What's more, if we focus solely on Camille, we have to admit that – as in every story, revolving around a single character – a person is in a way stuck in time. He can go about in the space his life takes, but time is more like a deity, untouchable and something you cannot pact with. For Camille, it doesn't matter how many times and at what point in time (before their fallout, during the crisis or at the last hour) Maxime asks him to break with Danton and go back to him, because time and predestined fate hold all the power of what is happening, while individuals hold none (and the aforementioned last statement of Robespierre explains right away that it is so even for the "great" individuals, who in other aspects are being held to different standards, but against time and fate they are just as powerless).

I like to think, though, that Przybyszewska has left a small postern for Camille to achieve gnosis or its more humane equivalent by drawing a symbolic parallel between two scenes, which are only made significat by their possible relating to each other, but mean next to nothing on heir own:

In the first scene, the key could have been a completely incidental choice of words/tools, after all it's a logical conclusion of the scene. There is, however, a more symbolic reading of it, as a key is of course a symbol, and a pretty easy one at that. If Camille gave Robespierre the key himself, this could be read as an end to their relationship, Camille returning the power  that Maxime holds over him to Maxime's own hands. But since we only see Lucille relay the key, and we know that Lucille is also capable of influencing her husband and directing his steps (even if she says she can't; Robespierre's words, seeing as he's the genius here, are the final judgement of this), this could mean she is giving her portion of power to Maxime, whom she trusts to save her husband. And Maxime uses this one more time, when he tries to visit Camille in prison. That he fails miserably is against Camille's wishes, because Camille even in his demise only succumbs to wishes of others.

But we know he regrets this step mightily and we know it precisely because he dreams (or rather has a nightmare) about the very key he was supposed to convey to Robespierre earlier. He regrets the desire to give Maxime his power back, he regrets that by doing so in any way, shape or form he has finally given up his life. Choosing a beautiful death over an ugly, humiliating life only sounded good in his head, but in truth, he is beyond terrified and would love nothing more but to Maxime to come in again and if not save him, then at the very least – forgive him. But for that, they'd have to meet again, and he couldn't throw Maxime out. I also don't understand why both the English and French translation added the word "effortlessly" when describing his last moment with Robespierre, because make no mistake, it is very much an unnecessary addition, going against everything that he has been portrayed like so far. Their last conversation is just as much a tragic one for Camille as it is for Maxime.

Przybyszewska took great pains to paint Camille in front of our eyes as someone so weak that we find him as more of a comic relief than anything else, but in reality he is just a differing portrayal of powerlessness when faced with fate. Camille is not a comical character, but a tragic one, he is just the same as Robespierre, his other half: they both believe in their own agency, they both believe they are the ones making choices and pushing their lives forward, but it is not a coincidence that they both end up in he very same place, in a span of mere weeks.

This post would not have been born if it weren't for @patricidefan​.

[wolf-stark]

You ask I deliver — both tfatws asks in one!

tfatws weekly ask 1

i finally saw ep1!! i wont be able to see ep2 until thursday at the earliest but i already have some Thots on this ep. here are the ones I remember

first is, and i'm so sorry for this, a grammar lesson. an appositive is when you stick an additional phrase in between commas, dashes, or the like. i actually just used one! the "and i'm so sorry for this" in the first sentence of this paragraph is an appositive. thing is, most english speakers don't normally use them when they speak, only in writing. so i'm always on high alert whenever i hear somebody in tv or movies use one. (it's generally a marker of bad screenwriting). anyway there was one right in the beginning of the episode. the white army guy yelling at sam wilson said "first lieutenant Torres, our intel officer, will be helping on the ground." yeah so. the writing of this series started out on the wrong foot for me. but the rest of the episode was obviously tons and tons better (every interview i see with malcolm spellman makes me love him more and more)

the contrast between the opening minutes (falcon action sequence) and the rest of the ep.... i would 100000/10 rather watch a series with just sam and bucky dealing with life. i dont give a single crap about the flag-smashers or any of that. i just want sam, sarah & fam getting their boating business back on the ground & yeeting racist dickwads, bucky going through therapy and making amends, sam and joaquin being bros, sambucky homoerotic tension, etc.

the cinnamontography! wandavision mostly used cinematography to signify era n stuff. tfatws doesn't have wv's premise to go off of, so here's some tricks i noticed:

with sam there's obviously all sorts of shots with the captain america iconography next to his face, but he hasn't totally claimed it. there's the mural of steve rogers in the background; there's sam staring into the shield like it's a spectre of steve's face; there's sam looking into the exhibit, the shield and sam separated by glass and a layer of camera focus. steve is a constant spectre, always there, an idea, a symbol himself. sam's relationship with this iconography is distanced. he is separated by glass exhibit walls. by painting canvases. he doesn't yet feel worthy to take on that iconography. this whole thing was pulled off quite well but also a bit on-the-nose if only in quantity. there's just sooooo much fancy iconography stuff

speaking of the exhibit, there's something that i get real pissy about. it's when like, there's an action going on you're supposed to be paying attention to but the cinematographer is like,,,, hey! check out this location! or this headline! or something! there was a lot of that in the exhibit. the camera was like, you could focus on sam and rhodey's convo (which was fine but could have been so much better with an extra like 10 minutes of deep character study talk) but noooo you want me to look at the symbol for the united nations and read all the text about bucky who hasn't even showed up yet. shut up i know the lore and ill watch the shot-by-shot breakdown yt vids you don't have to make the shot this long jkdsalcjklasejf

my fav trick was with bucky and the therapist. i had seen a clip of the scene with bucky and the therapist beforehand and i thought the cinnamontography was super obnoxious, but then i was like, oh duh. the shots frequently change the distance between the camera and its subject. sometimes it's uncomfortably close and sometimes it's really far. a clear allegory for the duality of therapy, esp for bucky! therapy is an invasive process wherein he is ruthlessly examined, picked apart, and berated for his trauma (this therapist is crap in every way btw, "mean therapist" works for greg house and greg house only). so the camera goes close. it makes the viewer claustrophobic like bucky. but when he's like "no i haven't had any nightmares" the camera suddenly goes really far. we see bucky as this tiny head in the center of the bottom of the frame. we are distanced from him. he has pushed us away. we cannot see him. he lies because he is vulnerable. so yeah, amazing work there. the therapy scene was hard to watch on purpose!

did bucky slip a note to yori inside the dollar bill? bucky stop making me emooooo. the suuper awkward fake smile has me 😭 (veteran trying to adjust!)

mark my worrrrds when sam asks someone y the govt picked john “white bread” walker they’re gonna say “we needed somebody everyone can get behind....someone uncontroversial, someone everyone can see themselves in” like that exact racist dog whistle

tfatws weekly ask 2

just saw ep2 so im taking advantage of the 2 seconds i can be on tumblr without worrying about tfatws spoilers before new episode drops

when isaiah said "your people put me in prison for being a hero" and bucky thought "your people" means hydra. 🤦‍♂️

speaking of racism, the interplay between sam being Black (anti-Black racism) and sam being the Falcon (negrophilia, "can i take a selfie w you as i deny you a loan?") and the intersection between the two (j*hn lichrally called sam "steve's wingman"! he takes the crypto out of crypto-racist in like 2 seconds!) !!!!!!!! a Black celebrity's Black experience, the separation of man and identity!!!! (thinking about vanessa bayer in snl in that skit "beyonce is black" telling her black friend "you're not black, you're...my girl!")

after sam gets racially profiled by cops we see j*hn standing in front of cop cars cinematic parallels turns out j*hn is racist who knew

this therapist sucks major ass but she got bucky and sam together in the same room and ready to collaborate...that's something ig. it was lichrally couple's therapy she said she used her miracle exercise with couples sambucky antis get blended

bucky says "he was wrong about you so maybe he was wrong about me"...that's not how people talk. when therapist asks bucky, the guy who doesn't talk at all about himself, "y do you hate sam", the last thing bucky's gonna do is actually connect his hatred of sam to his own self-worth issues. bucky generally refuses to talk about himself, so why would he talk about himself in the one context that nobody ever links back to their own neuroses: hatred of other people? one thing human beings hate most is admitting we're wrong. admitting you hate someone because of your own issues? that's a major therapeutic step. bucky would absolutely have to be prompted to do that. even like one or two lines of dialogue more would have set up that line better. but in terms of the actual thought? an amazing way to take the sam/bucky relationship. bucky bases his self-worth on steve believing in him, and if steve is wrong bucky has no self-worth, so 1) he has to develop self-worth disassociated from steve's assessment of him and 2) he has to love himself before he can love sam, and 3) he has to realize that sam giving up the shield is a sign of sam's humility not his unworthiness.

conversely, we don't get into why sam hates bucky? yeah sam has the right to hate a guy that has tried to kill him (albeit while brainwashed) multiple times, and now shows up in his life just to bash him but. everything happens so fast i cant follow their relationship

in fact i dont feel like i understood much of anything. like y did bucky and sam go on that mission together? how connected are sam/bucky/joaquin with the government? doesn't bucky just want to retire now? literally what is everyone doing/feeling and why???

if battlestar becomes a knowing commentary on the black best friend stereotype i'm gonna party, but i dont expect much of that

the interplay between man and symbol. captain america is obviously a symbol. the shield is obviously a symbol. but steve rogers? the. man behind the cowl? he too seems to become a symbol. a paragon of a good guy, so good he's unreachable. steve was just a guy stop idolizing him the last thing steve would want is to be idolized

as the resident musician/music nerd on mcublr, 1) that captain america rally music slaps, but 2) re: the song at the end of the ep, if you're just gonna rip off mozart's lacrymosa then at least play mozart's lacrymosa. we wont blame you the lacrymosa slaps (if you dont know what im talking about go on yt and search it up youll recognize it fo sho

look i love enfys nest as much as the next guy but if tfatws is gonna get erin kellyman to play another innocent little gurl blackmailed into the fakeout-villain position (her text seemed to suggest as such) then 😡 like why can't women just....be evil? young, freckly, innocent-looking women? girls are not untouchable pure objects but full of rage and resentment just as much as anyone can be

bonus ep1 comment: bucky says about that senator whose car he hijacked, "she continued to abuse the power i gave her." fictionaldarling on yt say that he says "i" because he can't disassociate himself from his winter soldier persona which begets endless and senseless guilt. like dude. can i not be emo for like 1 second.

OKay. First off, as much I enjoy your sending it to me, what made you decide to send me these??

-

TFATWS WA #1

Don't worry about getting this to me as early as possible. I usually don't watch the episode right away.

1. Cool writing lesson.

2. Everyone wants a comedy show [like Friends] about the MCU superheroes.

3. Cinematography is always a beautiful thing.

4. Sam definitely has to carve his own Captain America status for himself, outside of Steve's ya know everything.

5. They have to do that for people who was just now tuning in because they're in love with Sam Wilson or Sharon Carter.

6. I think the therapist was taking a 'tough love' approach for Bucky, because she likely has some very strong opinions about the literal assassin she's been assigned to give therapy too. She did not choose to talk to him, she was assigned that make that clear in the second episode.

And, Bucky isn't lying when he said it wasn't a nightmare. It wasn't a nightmare, it was a resurfaced memory. So, technically he wasn't lying - and yes, the camera does move away because while he's saying he didn't have a nightmare, he's not expanding on what actually happened - so, he's still pushing the therapist/us away.

7. Bucky, and Steve, have/had a TON to adjust to.

8. Yeah, I agree that will be the bullshit line they give. If they ever actually talk about it.

TFATW WA #2

Yeah, always got to take advantage of avoiding those spoilers lmfaoo.

1. Honestly, that line was double meaning. Both about White people and Hydra [which is made up of mostly white supremacists/nazis] So, the line is gesturing to both White People in general and Hydra assholes together. I think the terminology is “double edge sword”??

2. This whole paragraph structure confused me, ngl - so I'm going to answer it the best I can. I do like that they're not ignoring the fact that Sam being Black is 1000% the reason he's not the Official Captain America - because the gov't is racist as hell.

I also like the little lines about how they point out little things about Sam's Falcon persona, like that kid calling him 'Black Falcon' specifically and Sam's response show the split between Sam and Falcon itself.

John is a dick for calling Sam the wingman of Steve Rogers. Sam was a hero all on his own before Steve asked him to join up again. [Side note, it's lichrally??]

3. Exactly, the parallel of Sam being profiled and surrounded while just on the street and John being surrounded by fans and being able to spring Bucky with apparently only a few sentences shows a Loooooot

4. Honestly, at this point I wonder if she's not actually a therapist and is just an agent assigned to assess Bucky outside of an Official Building. I do know, however, that her 'look at each other and speak' exercise is actually a real therapy practice. It's just a little slower.

5. Actually, I think he would've blurted that out. That whole line. I don't think Bucky hates Sam. I think they could've done the scene better, but I think that had Sam prodded him/the therapist been more annoying Bucky would've lost control of his emotions and blurted out the whole "If he was wrong about you, he was wrong about me" but I feel like the writing for this show is just... not there. Sometimes you blurt shit when you get overemotional and I think that was what Bucky was supposed to be like.

6. I don't think Sam hates Bucky, I think he doesn't trust him though. I do wish they'd talked about that though. The whole 'talk to each other' scene should've been a LOT longer and a LOT slower.

7. Sam and Bucky's relationship is being fast tracked because they don't really know how to work the relationship out, writers-room-wise. Bucky is technically retired, but I feel like he's trying to live up to Steve's expectations and doing what Steve would've done and we all know that if Steve was there, Steve would've jumped on that plane with Sam. It looks like Sam/Bucky/Joaquin are a side-team based from Military services but as Sam says they're all free agents so...?

8. Sadly, They seem to just be propping up to be another stereotype.

9. Captain America is a symbol. Steve Rogers is a man. But now Steve Rogers is an idol because of all the shit he's been through and honestly, it's not a bad thing he's become an idol for people - it's using Steve as a reason to make White Bread Walker the next Captain that makes Steve's idolization so fucked.

10. I don't know anything about music so I have no opinion here, sorry.

11. Enfys?? Also, I think they did the whole Innocent Girl Thing as side commentary for Bucky lowering his guard about seeing a young girl rather than a guy.

12. Bucky is the Winter Solider. The Winter Solider is Bucky. That is how Bucky will always see it because although he was brainwashed, it was still him and he remembers all of it. When you have constant memories of something 'someone else' did, you tend to not be able to pull the two personas out of each other. I want Bucky to take up the title, White Wolf instead of Winter Soldier. Honest.

This is all my opinion, I’m honestly a little disappointed with the writing of TFATWS so far so... I’m not really optimistic about this.

[cynozurka]

My notes from watching bo Burnhams inside when I thought it would be a good idea to just write about every song /bit xd

Fixing the world w comedy

I mean it was fine

Some good points

Self aware and all

How oppressors will do performative activism

But also contextualised with his persona its a bit weird

is he scared of becoming that or is he already that

Like he IS doing a bit here and I know that It factors into the whole self awareness debuckle but idk it's a bit iffy to me

Also not really productive i think (yeah I know that's not the point but let me ramble)

You can still educate through comedy and you can do both actually

BECAUSE NEWS FLASH YEAH YOU C A N USE YOUR PRIVELEGE TO HELP AND IT DOESN'T HELP ANYONE THAT YOU THINK IT'S SELFISH

Like idk i understanding where he is coming from but perpetuating that mindset isn't really helpful imo

Facetiming with mom

Too little i think? I mean a fine little song but didn't get much from it

* making a profound experience out of a superficial face time with mom but maybe it has actually become profound, how little we speak to our family kinda, deep shit*

But that's kinda? Known? And not really nuanced at all?

That's how the world works

Well I really liked that one

Bo shows how it depends on the oppressed to be polite to their oppressors (using those terms loosely, the class with power and the powerless etc) to have a slightest chance to be listened to

Like that was a nicely done bit

Also I maybe a bit of critism to "socko" for the not considering educating the character, maybe I'm reading to much into it

I was pleasantly surprised because I thought the special would be kinda epty with half statements and nothing said explicitly

Tho the joke in the contrast of a sock puppet /a children's character telling something unexpected or dark does scream millennial humor

The brand thing

Good but I think it's been done many times before

White woman's ig song

Cool, like the white woman's Instagram concept seems a bit 2017 but it's well done,

Couple interpetations

1how we only show good sides of our life on social media

That one is honestly too simple, been done many times, obvious

2How priveleged for example an American white woman owing the Instagram is not knowing this (is this heaven), the Instagram is very status quo with performative activism, "normal" is priveleged

The bit about the mom either

About venting on social media/furthering the theme that life isn't perfect (basic)

Or

Humanizing, the white woman is still a person

We shouldnt antagonize priveleged people just because (it's actually important to have them on our side, the revolution is about destroying the class divide not creating more (that interpretation is generous tho)

Anyway the song is fine but I felt it could've said more and was a bit style over substance

About the theme of shutting up

Kinda? I mean I understand? But also not really it's important to exchange ideas and that everyone can do it imo, like I think it's a good social change that we can freely (well debatable) say our opinions but maybe it just went in a misquided way and it's just an illusion of everyone telling their opinions when we're still talking about like western world but I might be going to far but I think I know what he's getting at but also hhhhhh

The format of the reaction video seemed a bit condescending at first but I actually find it compelling mostly because I struggle with the same stuff and the cycle of self awareness is very familiar to me and the coping mechanism of saying you know you suck because then you feel you have an advantage over the people who would say that to you but it's not healthy to do that and you're also self aware of that

Bezos

I mean sure

I get it

You can say it had to be short to be punchy and it was just a transition

But also could've been more

Maybe I just prefer essays to poems

When he's laying on the floor and talking abt exploiting children and end with the statement of being horny idk didn't sit right with me I guess we can interpret that as the duality of man kinda thing where the world is so complicated yet we are simple creatures but idk it felt kinda invalidating just the vibe of the bit

A lot of my reactions was kinda like yeah no shit you aren't inventing the weel here

Sexting

As an asexual person it didn't really concern me

Felt outdated and too little and maybe a little not nuanced?

Like sure there were some good observations but also it was a bit too little again i think

Being funny stuck in a room sing

Fine, wanting to be seen as a kid but not as an adult because being seen can be dangerous

I think that was cool

But also idk it's not that funny or clever for me when he shows that he's taking multiple takes, wow who whouve thought people do that

Problematic

I feel nothing about it

I don't want to feel anything about it

Why the belly button close ups tho

The 30 thing

Really sad but also we know it's a performance so it felt a bit weird

The song was fun but like yeah not much said, again, we all know

Welcome to the internet

I mean sure again no shit

But it's a nice song

That funny feeling was very enjoyable actually

Anyway the overall performance is good, it's art and all but also I'm kinda done but also I think I am judging this differently than his previous songs and my judgment is harsher, like they're fine in the grand scheme of things

it was good, sometimes mediocre, overall probably very good and i hated it

not because it hit hard, it didnt really, nothing suprised me, it was just personally uneccassary for me to go through this

But also that's a very personal perspective and I understand how it can be good to other people

Also bo is a big comedian so good that he's talking about stuff like the bit with the sock

Anyway I need a break

[hetacakes]

clink.

terushima yuuji x fem! reader

in which reader is the cute, shy nerd of johzenji high that terushima has for some reason set his eyes on. she lets him in on a little secret of hers, and the two make a bet, deciding the fate of their possible relationship

or alternatively, reader is cute but secretly is a little shit and terushima is head over heels for the duality

i wrote a proper one shot for once (even though it's super self-indulgent) and not a half-assed drabble, yay!

warning for cussing

word count: 4,971

   Terushima really, really liked his tongue piercing. Hell, he loved it, because it a: made people flirt with him more, and b: made people kiss him more. The number of times people have told him his piercing makes them want to jump him couldn't be counted on his fingers, or his teammates' fingers, or the fingers on his whole team combined, which Terushima was very proud of and appreciated, thank you very much. 

   That being said, he did have one question.

   "What does it feel like?"

    If there was a school with the most cliche stereotypes in its student body, it was Johzenji. The student athletes were the volleyball team, the popular kids were the basketball team, and every school has their self-proclaimed outcasts, with their limited freedom to be anti conformist due to the school dress code.

   And of course, there were the smart, always a pleasure to have in class students: top of their classes, and focused only on their studies.

   Lucky for you, you were one of the quiet, bookworm types, unsuspecting and safely away from any spotlight of attention, whereas others are accurately named "teacher's pet". More often than not, you were curled in the corner of the library or classroom, books open in front of you as you wrote neat, organized notes, color coded and highlighted. Yeah, people labeled you as a nerd most of the time, but if being a nerd meant actually having a normal high school life without the added stress of drama, which then made it easier for you to stay on top of your school work, which then would help you get into a good university, and then have a smooth ride from there on out, then whatever, guess you're a nerd now. Plus, it made your parents really proud of you and gave them bragging material to other parents, so if you really needed drama, your parents always knew what gossip floated around.

   Terushima doesn't know why he even bothers. She isn't even his type! Though he doesn't exactly have a type that's more specific than hot, pretty girl. Yet there he was, stepping into his classroom, making a beeline for the desk in the corner. Others find it surprising that he was in the "nerd class", but Terushima knew that he was smarter than most, and wasn't some mindless idiot who knew nothing more than girls and their right hand. But that was a secret he kept to himself, because he liked having that trick up his sleeve, so when other students watched curiously as he walked into one of the top classrooms, he shrugged it off, telling them he wasn't sure why he was there, too.

   You saw him approach from the corner of your eye, and inwardly sigh. Trying your best to focus on reading the notes in front of you and preparing for the history test you had in less than fifteen minutes, a shadow appeared over your notebook as an arm draped over the back of your chair.

   "No book today?" a husky voice whispers directly into your ear, which would've gotten a reaction out of you if you were in a better mood.

   "I don't need to take notes from a book if I already have notes, obviously," you said without looking up from your review, avoiding giving Terushima a satisfying amount of your attention. It was tiring, honestly. All you did was mind your business and study! You never stood out, and most people forget you even exist, at least until they need to copy notes they conveniently forgot to do themselves, to which you always said no. You did nothing to gain his, or anyone's attention, yet there he was, resting his cheek on your shoulder and turning to speak, his breath ghosting over your ear. His persistence was starting to get on your nerves, and you couldn't afford to get distracted from your education with him. You had to figure out a way to scare him off, fast.

   "Aw come on baby, can't you at least let me see your pretty face?" He twirled a lock of your hair around his finger, trying and failing to get any sort of sign that you were even listening to him. Every other girl he flirted with fell for it, so why was it so addicting to him that you never did? Why is he trying so hard for you, why is he so pulled to you? To him, this was as real as soulmates could get without an actual red string manifesting in front of his eyes.

   As usual, you ignored him. Just as he opened his mouth to sweet talk some more, the bell rang, telling him to get over to his seat or face the consequences.

   "I'll see you later, baby." He straightened, sending a wink in your direction.

   While most students filed out of the classroom, ready to either get home or attend club activities, Terushima strolled to the side of the door once everyone left. 

   That is, everyone except you.

   There you were, diligently jotting down something in your planner, slipping both your notebook and textbook into your backpack.

   As you approached the door, he blocked your way, staring down at your shorter form with a charming smile on his face.

  He took in your appearance, noting how your skirt wasn't short, but short enough to let his mind wander, showing him the exposed part of your legs between the hem of the skirt and the top of your socks, which came to your knees. The cream colored sweater you wore over your white blouse gave you a cute and innocent look, sweater paws included, and your olive jacket was tucked neatly over your arm, hanging by your side. He almost drooled at your oh-so-kissable lips, as pink as the ever present rosy liveliness on your cheeks. Your eyes stared up at him, like a kitten, in a way that made him want to coo, and had you not been glaring at him, he would've basked in the cuteness of your appearance, soft clothing and all.

   "Please, just one kiss? Don't you want to feel my piercing for yourself?" he asked suggestively, smirking down at you.

   "Not really. Do you?" You asked as you set your bag down on the nearest desktop.

   He was taken aback by your response. "Well I- I mean- uh-"

   You cut him off by tiptoeing, pressing your lips on his. Oh damn, they were soft as hell. Yeah, this is why he was so attracted to you. Yeah, he'd like to get your kisses way more often. He even almost forgot what you had just said.

   As he licked your bottom lip for permission, he then realized what you meant.

   Clink.

   You pulled away, snickering at the confused look on his face. You pulled a childish face at him, pulling at your eye and sticking your tongue out at him, confirming his suspicions.

   In the middle of your tongue sat a shiny silver bead, the twin to the one in his own mouth.

   "Nobody's gonna believe you," you taunted, slinging your bag over your shoulder and walking out of the classroom as he stepped to the side distractedly, dumbfounded, obviously still processing what just happened. 

   Then it struck him.

   Well, shit.

   "I'm telling you man, she has a tongue piercing too!"

   "Yeah, whatever dude. A girl like her? The most she's ever done is probably truth or dare in middle school, and she'd only pick truth!"

   Terushima had to admit that he used to think the same of you, based on the way you wore mainly comfy sweaters and kept quiet,  speaking softly and rarely. "Bobata, I'm serious. We kissed! I even saw it!" He insisted, yet as the words came out of his mouth, he himself didn't know if they were true or not. If it did happen, then you were right, nobody was believing him, not even himself. 

   "Dude, she probably doesn't even know how to kiss," Bobata laughed as he walked away, joining a two vs. two match.

   Terushima had walked into volleyball practice after he got over what had just happened, though it still felt like some fever dream, and the coach and Hana had gotten mad at him for being fifteen minutes late, and he had to warm up by himself before he could play a match. He would've skipped it, but then they would've killed him for being so careless, and he didn't want to face their combined wrath again.

  "Nah, that was a hella good kiss," Terushima whispered to himself, staring at the ball in his hands, "but was it real?".

   "Can I have another? Please?"

   You almost laughed at the way he was asking you, like a child asking his mom for another cookie or something. "I didn't give you anything," you said, tilting your head.

   Terushima stared. "Yes you did! You gave me the best damn kiss I ever had!"

   "I haven't even had my first kiss yet," you lied straight through your teeth, pretending to look surprised yet embarrassed.

   "Nobody calls a kiss like that their first kiss."

   "I really don't know what you're talking about. Now, stop bothering me." You flushed, proud of the fact that he basically called you one of the best kissers, but you played it off as being embarrassed that he was making a big deal out of your so called "first kiss", or rather, the lack thereof.

   He could see the genuine innocence in your eyes, which frustrated him to no end. Either it was real, or he was on drugs. He hoped it was the former.

   "Then explain your tongue piercing!"

   "Tongue piercing? I would never get something as wild as that. I barely got ear piercings!" You looked scandalized, like a strict mother's embarrassing teenage years being exposed to Helen and all her kids at the PTA meeting.

   "You have one! And how else would I know if you didn't kiss me!"

   "Terushima, I really don't know what you're talking about, and frankly, I'm worried for you." You looked at him, concern in your eyes. "You're in this class with me because you're smart, and as far as I know, you're not flunking out. So why are you saying all this nonsense?"

   Terushima didn't know how to feel. On one hand, he felt like preening, taking in your praise at his hidden intelligence, but on the other, he was frustrated that you kept calling the truth nonsense.

   "Fine! If you don't have a piercing, show me."

   "I'm not a child; I'm not going to stick my tongue out at you."

   "If you don't, you're admitting defeat."

   "Fine! If you insist," You relented, sticking your tongue out at him.

   To his dismay, there was nothing there, no bead, no flash of something shiny.

   He looked you in the eyes.

   Well, shit.

   "Am I tripping or did yesterday actually happen?"

   "Of course yesterday happened, it was yesterday," you sighed, looking at Terushima, not in the mood for more of his antics. Once again, it was you and him in the empty classroom, the campus deserted. Just yesterday, your camera broke, and you turned it over in your hands before slipping it into your bag. So long, photography club.

   "You know what I mean!"

   An idea popped into your head. "If you mean this," you purred, lightly pushing on his chest with one hand until his back hit the wall. You used your other hand to pull him down by his blazer, placing your lips on his.

   Clink.

   "Then yes. Just in case you needed to ring a bell."

   "You damn tease. Why are you doing this?" Terushima's eyes kept flitting to your lips. Who would've guessed that he was also into tongue piercings?

   "At first, I wanted to drive you away by telling you something no one's gonna believe, so you'd go crazy or something. Now, I think I'm having a little bit of fun with it," you said, swiping your tongue across your bottom lip. Terushima watched as the silver bead flashed, reflecting the light coming from the windows.

   "You put it back!"

   "Of course I did, what's the point of getting a piercing just for it to close up? Now, Teru, how about we make a bet?" You stood on your tiptoes, whispering into his ear. There was no way he could've suppressed the shiver that ran down his back. Well fuck him, you were pushing his buttons in all the right ways, a stark contrast from the cold shoulder you've been giving him the past two weeks. Hell, he was loving it, fully pulled in by you and your addictive flirting.

   "Depends on the bet," he whispered back into your ear, lightly kissing it. He held your waist in his hands, humming appreciatively at your sharp intake of air as he pulled you closer to him.

   You backed down. "If you convince at least one person that I've got a tongue piercing, I'll do a favor for you, no questions asked." You wrapped your arms around his waist, resting your chin on his chest.

   Oh god, Terushima was sure he ascended to a higher plane of existence. If his eyes were cameras, he would've taken a dozen pictures of you hugging him, staring up at him with those adorable kitten eyes, chin on his chest, his chest! He couldn't stop himself from cooing, "Awe, well when you're looking up at me like that, how can I say no?"

   You smiled, amping up your cute factor as soon as you realized it was working in your favor. "Then if you win, I…?"

   "You go out with me," Terushima said simply, to nobody's surprise.

   "And if I win, you stop bothering me. Deal?"

   "Deal." Both of you knew that if you won, Terushima wouldn't follow through with his penalty, but well, at least he'll make an effort.

   "Seal it with a kiss?" He knew he sounded desperate, but honestly he was: desperate to kiss you again, to feel your lips on his, to hear the soft sound of your piercings meeting, to finally call you his.

   You didn't answer, instead pulling him down again to give him a light peck on the lips.

   "Bye!" You slipped your backpack over your shoulders, waving a hand in the air as you looked over your shoulder.

   "Wait, not like that! I want a real one!" Terushima called, running out the door, watching as you walked away and out of sight. 

   Well, shit.

   He saw you sitting a few tables away, chatting away with your friends around you. When you caught his eye, you stuck your tongue out at him, taunting him with the bead that only you, your friends, and him knew the existence of. He did the same, watching as the two of you started making faces at each other, each one worse than the last, like elementary school rivals.

   "Bobata, when I tap your knee, you have to look where I'm looking, okay?" Terushima whispered, a plan to win the bet in his head.

   Bobata looked at him weirdly, "Sure dude, whatever you say."

   Grinning, Terushima stuck his tongue out more, making sure his piercing was as clear as day. When he saw you open your mouth to do the same, he quickly tapped Bobata's knee.

   "Dude, I don't even know where you're looking. There's nothing there."

   "What?" He exclaimed, watching helplessly as you turned around, piercing hidden yet again.

   "There's just the back of some girl's head."

   It was then that Terushima realized your friend sat across from you, effectively shielding you from prying eyes.

   Eyes that would've sealed the deal for him, in his favor.

   Terushima turned to Bobata, devastation clear on his face.

   "You've got to be kidding me."

   "Guys, why don't you just believe me?"

   "Believe what?" Futamata looked at Terushima, confused. 

   "He's been going on and on about how the girl that sits in the corner all quiet has a tongue piercing. A tongue piercing! He's gone crazy," Bobata said, leaning back in his chair.

   "It's true! I was gonna show you earlier but some girl was in the way!"

   "Why would she have a tongue piercing in the first place, and why would you know?" Futamata asked.

   "Because it's the only piercing nobody can see unless you show them, so she only told me about it because she knew nobody would believe me! Like you two right now!" Terushima exclaimed. "How often do you guys see my piercing everyday?"

   "All the damn time," Futamata and Bobata said in unison.

   "Okay, how often do you see it when I'm not going around showing it off?"

   "Now that I think about it, I never see it during class the way I can always see your ear piercings," Bobata mused.

   "That's because it's in his mouth," Futamata quipped, hiding his laugh behind his hand.

   "Exactly! Hers is in her mouth too!" Terushima insisted.

   "Why would she show you in particular, though?"

   "'Cause I've been trying to get with her and she always rejected me and she got tired of it but now she's always flirting but nobody believes it and it drives me insane but I finally have a chance if I can just prove it to somebody!" Terushima ranted, exasperation setting in.

   "Dude, you gotta realize how unbelievable your story sounds right now. You're basically saying Hermione Granger from Harry Potter had a tongue piercing," Futamata pointed out, Bobata nodding in agreement.

   "Okay, but Hermione Granger was badass."

   "Yeah, you're right," Futamata said. "But that's not the point! The thing is, all she does is study, take notes, pass classes, and get the highest grades! She's just so, ordinary. She seems so innocent and naive."

   "Yeah, but so was Hermione until we found out she was cool as hell," Terushima said.

   "Good point," Futamata added.

   "Fine, fine. If I see it, I'll believe it, one hundred percent. Deal?" Bobata relented, watching as Futamata repeated after him.

   "Deal."

   Terushima leaned over the desk next to yours, looking down at you. He watched as you looked up at him, memories of yesterday flashing in his head.

   "Can you watch me play volleyball?"

   "What do you mean?" You asked, unsure of what he was asking of you. There were no games, and the Interhigh Prelims were already over, so what could you watch?

   "After school. Sit and watch us during practice, you can even help Hana if you want," Terushima offered.

   You looked at him skeptically. Something about his request felt off, like he had an ulterior motive, but you didn't know for sure, which is why you answered the way you did.

   "Sure, I guess."

   You stood outside the gym doors, shuffling your feet from side to side. Just ten minutes earlier, you were wrapping up some notes and flashcards you were using for an upcoming literature test as Terushima walked out the door, waving goodbye. Back then, you thought nothing of it, deciding to visit their practice after they were done. Now, you regretted that, because you had to open the doors alone, by yourself, and interrupt whatever they were doing.

   Basically, you had to bring attention to yourself, which you hated in the first place, and knowing how chaotic the Johzenji volleyball team can be, you weren't sure you'd live to tell the tale.

   Sighing, you braced yourself, placing a hand on the door handle.

   Three.

   Two.

   One.

   You pulled open the door, timidly peeking inside. As soon as the sound of the door opening echoed throughout the gym, the sounds of sneakers and bumps quieted. It was as if everything has paused, freeze frame. A ball in the air fell to the floor, bouncing away.

   And the whole team was staring at you.

   "Hey! You made it!" Terushima called out as his face lit up.

   "Um, hello. Terushima told me to come and watch the practice," you explained softly, glancing around the gym.

   "Oh, great! Come over here," their manager, who you recognized to be Hana, said, waving a hand at you. You dropped your bag by the door before making your way over.

   "Hi, I'm Hana Misaki, the third year manager, and this is our coach, Anabata Takaaki," Hana introduced, motioning to the coach. He waved politely, saying, "Nice to meet you."

   Someone tapped you on the shoulder, and as you turned around, you were met with the face of a girl, obviously a first year, looking down at the floor.

   "I'm Ryuna Kuribayashi, and I'm the first year manager," she said, shyly looking up at you.

   "Nice to meet you Ryuna," you said warmly before introducing yourself as well, watching as she gave you a gentle smile in response.

   "So, what brings you here? Other than that idiot Terushima," Hana asked, throwing a glare towards Terushima's direction. As if he had super hearing, he turned around, pouting, just as one of his opponents, number eleven, sent a ball in the air, landing on his head.

   You stifled a laugh as you overheard him complain loudly. "Nothing else, he just told me to come by, and since I had nothing to do, I had no reason to decline," you answered sheepishly, rubbing the back of your head.

   "So you have no club activities?"

   "Yeah, I was part of the photography club but my camera broke and I haven't had the time to either fix it or replace it, so I've basically just been a placeholder."

   "Well, how about you become a manager for these bunch of crazy kids? Soon, you'd be the third year manager, and I'd really appreciate it if we continued having two managers, just in case they decide to tear Ryuna apart, since once their tournament is over, I'm leaving," Hana sighed, watching as Ryuna shrugged her shoulders. You looked at the team, playing two versus two matches, jumping and yelling like madmen, then back at Ryuna, who was watching fondly, albeit a bit worried.

   "Yeah, okay. I can see why you can't trust them with one manager." You gestured at them with your head, just as Terushima jumped in the air, yelling his lungs out.

   "Great! If you come here for a second I can give you a form to fill out, and- oh wait. Do you know anything about volleyball?" Hana asked. "It's just one of the things I'm supposed to ask you, since it's a volleyball club and all."

   "Yeah, I played in middle school," you assured.

   "Great! Here," Hana said, handing you a form. Fishing a pen out of her pocket, you took it gratefully before putting the paper against the wall, filling it out.

   "Then that settles it! I'll call a break and tell them the news." Hana turned to the coach, waiting for him to finish correcting one of the teammates. She tapped him on the shoulder and asked for a time out. The coach blew the whistle, and Terushima called, "Alright!"

   Once everyone had gotten water and a towel, Hana called for everyone's attention. "Everyone, this is (L/N) (Y/N)! She's a second year, but most of you know that because I hear a fly keeps buzzing around her." Hana sent a dirty look at Terushima, who put his hands up and stuck his tongue out, guilty as charged. "She's becoming our third manager to take my place once I leave," the team whined, obviously going to miss her, "so when next year comes around, we'll have a third year and second year manager. Since most of you will be graduating with (Y/N), when Ryuna is a third year, we may only need one manager, since she might be actually looking after a volleyball team, not a group of overgrown kids." The team protested, unknowingly proving even more so that they were a childish bunch. "Yeah, yeah, I'm just kidding. Everyone, welcome (Y/N)!"

   "Welcome to the team!" The team chorused, jumping in the air, reminding you of a certain redhead you used to go to middle school with.

   "Thank you," you said, bowing slightly.

   "Alright, back to work!"

   "So I heard you're becoming a manager? Why, you need to keep tabs on your man?" Terushima sidled up to you, towel around his neck, water bottle drained.

   "No, I just feel bad for Ryuna having to deal with you all the time," you replied, looking over your shoulder at Ryuna handing out water bottles to the crowd of teammates around her, looking overwhelmed before Hana came and smacked them in the head.

   "Well then, meet some of the team. Hey, Bobata! Futamata!" Terushima called to numbers 2 and 3.

   "Hey, I'm Bobata Kazuma," number 2 said as he jogged over, tipping his head slightly. 

   "I'm Futamata Takeharu," number 3 introduced as well, nodding towards you.

   "And I'm number one!" Terushima yelled proudly, with you looking unamused. 

   "So who's the captain? I bet it's Futamata, he seems better than you, Terushima," you said, trying to make fun of and get a reaction out of Terushima, and it worked.

   "No! I'm the captain, number one!" Terushima insisted, pulling at his practice jersey.

   "Fine, fine. Do you guys really only play two on two matches?" You asked, looking at the three of them. Damn, they towered over you. No wonder Ryuna was overwhelmed earlier, had you still been your little first year self, you too would've been intimidated.

   "Yeah!" Bobata answered proudly, "It's what makes us the 'party team'."

   "But volleyball is six on six…" you trailed off.

   "Well yeah, but doing two on two makes it more competitive," Futamata pointed out.

   "Yeah, but when game time comes around, you all will be running into each other, because two suddenly tripled." You rolled your eyes, already seeing them crash into each other like bumper cars.

   "But when that happens, you'lll come and save us, right?" Terushima asked, looking at you with puppy eyes.

   "I guess…" you grumbled, not wanting to indulge Terushima.

   "Aw, c'mon! You'll help us with anything, right?" Bobata pulled the same act, dodging as Terushima tried to elbow him.

   "Just say it! If you say it, we'll believe it!" Futamata added, catching on to something, something you were suspicious of.

   "You're being awfully insistent," you looked at them dubiously, raising an eyebrow.

   "Just say it! 'As your manager, I'll help you with anything'," Terushima said, speaking slowly. As he spoke, his piercing glinted in the gym's lighting, the sun already setting, unable to provide its sunlight.

   "No, that's weird."

   "Just do it!"

   "No!"

   "Please?" All three of them chorused.

   "Fine! As your manager, I'll help you with anything," you relented, not noticing the incredulous look on Bobata's and Futamata's faces.

   "Say it slower, just in case I heard wrong," Terushima suggested, looking at you evilly.

   Seeing as you were in no position to refuse, you did so, "As your manager, I'll- oh." Your face fell as you realized why they made you repeat those exact words.

   When you said 'I'll', your piercing was out in the open, exposed to two of Terushima's friends, who were looking at you with disbelief written across their faces. You mentally smacked yourself for overlooking the fact that when Terushima said it, his piercing was visible, too.

   "I believe the bet has come to an end? And the winner is?..." Terushima said slyly, looking like that cat that caught the canary.

   "You…" you mumbled, unwilling to admit it.

   "What? I couldn't hear you."

   "You!" You huffed, looking to the side.

   "Wait, bet? I thought you were just trying to not go insane," Bobata said as Futamata agreed with him.

   "You see, if I was able to prove she had such a piercing to at least one person, I'd be able to do this." He snaked an arm around your waist, pulling you into his side. "And you, Bobata, Futamata, make two people."

   "So what did you win?" Futamata asked, not following.

   "I won this one right here," Terushima replied happily, stepping to the side to hug you from behind.

   "Everyone!" Terushima suddenly yelled, waiting for everyone's attention. "Meet my girl, (L/N) (Y/N)!" Terushima declared proudly, leaning back and lifting you up into the air from the waist, peeking over your side and snickering as you protested loudly.

   "Hey! Put me-"

   You were cut off by the team's wolf whistles and yells, their cries loud enough to be heard miles away as they all jumped in the air excitedly. Do they ever stop jumping? Even Hana and Ryuna were clapping, fond smiles on their faces. 

   Accepting your fate, you crossed your ankles, holding on to Terushima's arms for dear life.

   "Thank god you're in good shape," you whispered, squeezing his bicep.

   Terushima grinned. "Like it?"

   "Love it," you rolled your eyes as he preened, hugging you even tighter, before putting you down.

   "Guess I got my girl after all," Terushima said as those who overheard cheered softly for him.

   "Yeah, yeah, it took you three weeks and a bet to get little old me."

   "Yeah, but little old you tricked everyone by having a tongue piercing, so I wonder, what else are you hiding behind that innocent façade?"

   "I don't know what you're talking about," you said, crossing your arms and petulantly looking to the side.

   "Well, can little miss innocent give me the hottest kiss of my life?" He said mischievously, eyes sparkling at you.

   "Whatever you say, mister handsome-as-hell," you smiled, leaning up as he bent down, your lips meeting in the middle.

   If it was even possible, the team got louder, and even the managers were whooping for you, relieved that you finally got together and happy because you two made a really cute couple.

   Terushima smiled into the kiss, wrapping his arms around you and pulling you even closer.

   Clink.

[kiwismoon]

how many shots would it take for you to fuck every era of harry

I can’t provide pictures becuse i was edting the documert and making it in a diff tab and i closed da tab so its kinda gone now sorry lmao i mean i’ll do this though

@finelinesupremacy here is the thing im talking to u about btw

Frat Boy Harry:

literally none at all like,,, he looks so like,,, hard but soft u know like like he’s the fucker who’s like super sweet and probably someone you went to highschool with and you saw him and remembered watching him grow up from a boy who used to play with you to being kinda further away, being the boy who sat with his friends and mixed his vegeteables with chocolate milk at school to gross his friends out, to being awkward around girls, a slightly gangly, awkward 6th grader who was starting to make friends and get comfortable in school, to being like,,, like probably on the basketball team and like,,, probably slightly popular around maybe 9th or 10th grade, slowly becoming more ‘desired’ in school whether romantically or not, to being...this...just,,, sweet faced,,, kinda like,,, in the way you see a ‘popular kid’ and think oh,,, boy.... like the ones normally ‘most attractive’ and with that sort of,,, confident vibe you know??? he gave off those vibes and he just looks like he could win anyone over in once glance but then when he starts talking and you realize he isn’t that, you fall even more because you realize he’s actually not very confident, slightly more introverted than he likes to put on. not at that that’s....harry duality he looks like he’d fuck you over/up in a relationship as “frat boy harry” because thats what i think its general sterotyped u know??? but idk so basically none <3 Prince Hair Harry:

again like...none. he looks so,,, cottage core soft if that makes sense he looks so,,, old and wise (no longer highschool ignorance ;c and shenianangians) and like,,, more put together to the outwards??? like appearnce but he also looks like,,,, idk i dont have to !!! justify myself okay !!! none because i SAID SO okAY SO ITS FINE AND IT DOESN’ FEFLK IT DOESN’T  MAAAATTTT

Long Hair Harry

maybe half a shot of of pure sweet NOTHING. HE COULD TURN??? RAISE EYEBROW PUSH BACK HAIR??? PEER AT ME??? UP AND DOWN??? I WOULD DIE???? I WOULD BE MELTED INSTANTLY AND LITERALLY??? ONE MOTION I GO BOOM BOOOM BOOOM BOOOM I WANT YOU IN MY ROOM- Dunkirk Harry: I’m sorry this is getting repeditieive, but like,,,, honeslty noone??? same story except OH MY GOD HE’S SO MATURE NOW???? NOT MATURE IN A BAD WAY BUT LIKE... 🗣 🗣 🗣 YOU KNOW KINDA AGGRESSIVE 🗣  IN A VERY GENTLE AND GENTLY AND  🗣 🗣 🗣 🗣 CARING WAY I GUESS I DON’T KNOW LIKE HE’S NOT AN OLD MAN BUT HE’S NOT AN ASSHOL?? BECAUSE HE’S MOATRE THATS ALL I MEAN OKAY??? BUT ALSO HOLY FUVCK???? PRINCE CHARMING???? HELLO IS THAT YOU ???? JESSUS CHRIST HE WAS THE BELLE OF THE FUCKING BALL LIKE WHAT?

Bandana Harry:

Feels kinda  🗣 frat boy 🗣  and WE KNOW OHOHOHO WE K N O W HOW I FEEL ABOUT FRAT BOY HARRY SO ITS THAT BUT ALSO PRINCE HAIR HARRY!! SO REMINISINCT OF WOODLAND ADVENTURES AND FAIRIES,,, SO BEAUTIFULY????? HOW IT WOULD BOUNCE IN THE BFRESSE??? IMAMCUTLRE 🗣 🗣  SO NONE,,, NONE EVER LETS GO ROUND 6

Fine Line Harry:

🗣none, ‘nuff said.

Lot Harry:

none

SNL Harry

none,,, ever,,,,,,,, really honestly just lets go harry round 8, come on

Don’t WORRY DARLING :) (OOH GODD DD,,D,,,, DONT WORRY DARLING HARRY IS JUST SOO GOOD)

LITERRALYY DONT WORRY DARLING HARRY IS LIKE,,, ERROR 404 FILE NOT FOUND BECAUSE OH WHATTTT THE FUCK???IM 

Pilgrim Harry: (Kidding)

none tho

(kidding)

( 🗣 🗣 none 🗣 🗣 )

SO YEAH THANKS FOR ASKING,,, SORYR GUYS I  KINDA  🗣 🗣 🗣 🗣 🗣 🗣  LOOSE BRAIN RN OKAY  OKAY, GOODBYE (@FINELINESUPRECENM)

[notapaladin]

life is a road and i wanna keep going

“I will write a fic for Acatl’s birthday!” i say, a month and change AFTER his...actual...birthday. (February 24th, mark y’all’s calendars for next year). I do not plan ahead. Anyway, have some fluff.

also on AO3

-

Acatl woke up cold, alone, and with a nagging feeling that he’d forgotten something. The first two were normal—it was the tail end of the dry season, after all—but the third wasn’t. His memory was usually a reliable thing.

The conch shells were still blaring outside, heralding the dawn. He made his devotions to the gods, hoping the pain would jar loose whatever it was. There were no festivals he needed to prepare for, it wasn’t market day or any of his siblings’ birthdays, and his temple had been refreshingly free of any suspicious deaths for a while, so what…?

Nothing sprung to mind. Pinching his ears to stop the flow of blood, he went to wash his face and hands. There was a thin skin of ice on the surface of the basin, and he broke it with a muttered curse. As he bent his head, a lock of loose hair fell into his eyes.

There was a sliver of white in it. No. I have to have seen wrong.

He hadn’t.

He scrubbed at his skin quickly and rifled through his hair until he’d separated the offending strand—no, two strands. Two. He would have bet a fistful of cacao beans that neither had been there yesterday. He heaved a disgusted sigh and yanked his hair back, tying it tightly out of his face and his sight. But not being able to see it didn’t mean he could forget it was there. I’m getting old. The thought was disquieting. He was barely into his thirties, for the Duality’s sake, and surely it was too soon for him to become decrepit.

When he rose to his feet, his knees complained. Apparently it wasn’t. Wonderful, he thought sourly. Just wonderful.

But then he stepped out into his courtyard and found it occupied, and despite himself his gray mood started to lift. Teomitl sat under the tree, looking fresh-faced and lovely as the dawn, and when his gaze lighted on Acatl he beamed. “Good morning.”

He frowned back at him. Yes, of course he was happy to see him, but there really wasn’t a reason he could think of for the man to be here. It was far too early for his usual lunchtime intrusion—which, admittedly, had become less of an intrusion and more of a pleasant routine reminder that he was indeed supposed to eat something, even if Teomitl did keep scowling when he told him that. There had been no recent damage to the boundaries, and if anything had happened to Mihmatini he knew very well that Teomitl wouldn’t be smiling about it. Maybe he just wants to see you, whispered a voice in his mind. He ignored it, as well as the resulting butterflies in his stomach.

“...Teomitl, what are you doing here?”

Teomitl all but bounced to his feet. That smile was downright infectious, and he had to look away before it caught him too. Then Teomitl spoke, and all chances of that were over. “I wanted to be the first to wish you a happy birthday.”

“A what.” Acatl blinked at him, hearing the words but not understanding them. Wait. Wait. Yesterday was Five Grass, which means today is...oh, gods. He’s right. At midnight, he’d became another year older. And it had slipped his mind entirely. I am getting old.

“...Did you…” Teomitl stared back incredulously. “You forgot your own birthday?”

He dropped his gaze to the ground, feeling his heart thump hard against his ribs. “It’s not important.” It was never important. He was a priest, sworn to give his life to the gods; ever since the day he’d announced his vocation, even his own family hadn’t done more than mildly remark upon it. It would have bothered him more if there hadn’t been so many other, worse reminders of their disapproval.

“Of course it is.” Teomitl drew himself up to his full height, eyes narrowed in a way that dared Acatl to say otherwise

He didn’t. His heart was hammering too fiercely. He cares. And yes, he’d known that—it was hard not to, with all the little reminders that Teomitl had no intention of leaving his life unless Acatl threw him bodily out of it—but it felt more real, now. The hope that he’d ruthlessly beaten back was cautiously trying to raise its head again. “I…”

Teomitl smiled, faint and victorious; clearly, he’d realized there would be no arguing on this point. “You’ve survived another year of everything Tizoc’s reign has thrown at us. That’s deserving of celebration.”

“...That explains it,” he muttered. Even without any major catastrophes, the constant awareness of paper-thin boundaries and a singularly unworthy Emperor were enough to turn any man’s hair white.

“Hm?”

He felt his face heat. “Nothing.”

And now Teomitl was scowling lightly at him. “Acatl.”

He’d promised himself that he would never lie to him, even over something as embarrassing as his own vanity—and it was vanity, which seemed even more ridiculous now with the pulse point of Teomitl’s presence beating under his ribs. “...I thought I was too young for gray hair. I was mistaken.”

Teomitl shook his head dismissively and stepped closer. Acatl suddenly noticed that his courtyard was much smaller than he’d thought it was; from this distance, he could pick out the myriad shades in Teomitl’s dark eyes. He hastily averted his gaze, but not before catching the edge of Teomitl’s frown as the man informed him, “You’re only thirty-two. That’s not old.”

“Older than you,” he pointed out with what was perhaps a bit of a justified huff in his voice. There were times it didn’t bother him. There were even times he forgot entirely; Teomitl swam in the political currents of the palace like an ahuitzotl, and it always made him question which of them was the younger. But a man was entitled to feel his age when his hair started showing it, Duality curse him.

“...I don’t mind. Gray hair makes you look distinguished.” Teomitl shrugged with feigned carelessness, a faint tinge of color in his cheeks. Before Acatl could ask what on earth he meant by that, he continued, “Anyway. I, uh. I thought maybe...I could buy you something to eat? If you’re not busy. Today should be the day that Cozcatl’s running her mother’s tamale stall, and I know you love her cooking.”

Cozcatl made tamales that could wake the dead. She did things with chilies that would have made the head imperial chef weep for joy. They weren’t expensive or extravagant, nothing that would make it onto the palace banquet tables, but if Acatl hadn’t been a priest, he thought sometimes that he might have married her for her food alone.

He found himself smiling. “...Thank you.”

The temple could manage without him for a single morning. It was his birthday, after all.

- -

The Sacred Precinct was busy as it always was, but the city beyond it was even more so. Neither he nor Teomitl had dressed formally—though Teomitl’s crimson cloak and the gold in his ears marked him as a man of imperial blood, drawing more admiring eyes than just Acatl’s—so the jostling crowd meant they had to stick close together. Even though it warmed him from the inside out each time their arms brushed, he didn’t mind.

He should have minded. He was being selfish, wanting what he couldn’t have; his face burned all over again when fingers brushed his arm and he thought fleetingly of catching them in his own. Teomitl was a dozen years younger than him, soon to be Revered Speaker, and married to his sister. It wasn’t so very long ago that he’d been Acatl’s student. That had mattered once.

Teomitl cast him a sideways, smiling glance. “I know you don’t want a celebration, but I should probably warn you that Neutemoc is going to invite you to dinner.”

Neutemoc’s favorite way of celebrating birthdays when they’d been children had been to heave him into the nearest canal and run away laughing before he could wrestle him in too. He closed his eyes briefly. “Ah.”

“I thought you probably wouldn’t like it. I wanted to treat you to something from the palace kitchens instead.”

He shook his head, redirecting the little bubble of joy from the idea of Teomitl thinking so much about him to something more appropriate. “No, that’s fine. It will be good to see the children again.”

“Mm-hmm.” Teomitl’s smile turned fond and wistful, as it always did when they lit on the topic of Acatl’s nieces and nephews; though the age gap between him and his brothers meant he’d been an uncle himself practically since birth, evidently it was a different matter entirely when it involved the family he’d married into. The first time Mazatl had called him Uncle Teomitl unprompted, he’d beamed so happily that Acatl had fallen in love all over again. “I can’t believe how tall Necalli’s getting! Soon he’ll be looking me in the eye. Time’s flown.”

Strands of silver in his hair. Teomitl smiling on the temple steps, meeting him as one man to another. The tidal shift when he’d looked at him—gods, he couldn’t even remember what the occasion had been, some meal where Teomitl had been wiping crumbs off his hands and chuckling at Acatl’s first truly honest description of what he thought about Quenami—and instead of garden-variety fondness he’d thought oh and Duality preserve me, I love you.

“It has.” Things changed, and sometimes it was for the better.

The sun was warm, but not as warm as the look in Teomitl’s eyes.

He had to turn his face away again; the crowd around them and the noise of a living city in his ears wouldn’t let him forget they were in public, and he focused on that and not the occasional slide of their cloaks against each other’s limbs. Gradually he became aware that they weren’t alone—that as they made their way through the markets to Cozcatl’s stall, a group of men with the bearing and battle scars of Jaguar Knights were attempting to follow them unobtrusively and not doing a very good job of it.

He cast a glance in Teomitl’s direction and saw him unbothered. It didn’t help. “Are the guards really necessary?”

“For you? Yes.” Teomitl’s quick smile was far too innocent. “You can’t deny you tend to attract danger.”

“Hmph,” he muttered, and forcibly bit back the part of him that wanted to ask is that why you’re still around, then? It felt too close to flirtation for him to risk. Remember Mihmatini, he thought—but remembering Mihmatini didn’t help, because then his memory was happy to dredge up the conversation with her where she’d maintained unwavering eye contact as she’d told him that she and Teomitl had come to an agreement and she didn’t care if her husband had feelings for anyone else, and her gaze had been far too searching for comfort.

Before Teomitl could say anything else that could make his heart feel dangerously soft and open, he spied a familiar striped awning set over a broad window and made a beeline towards it. He could have found Cozcatl’s stall if he were blind and operating on smell alone, but the awning did help.

The woman herself was indeed setting out the morning’s selection of flatbreads and tamales, and beamed at them as they approached. Cozcatl was a little older than he was, a widow with three young children and a wide streak of gray in her hair, but her crooked-toothed smile made her beautiful. “Good morning, my lords! Will you be having your usual?”

He took a moment to look over the steaming pots and their maize-wrapped offerings. “If you have it, yes.”

She looked very much as though the idea of her not having their usual orders—fish with chili for Acatl and cactus fruit with honey for Teomitl—was laughable, but only smiled as she handed them over and Teomitl, as was his custom, paid her far too much for them.

Acatl blinked at the two tamales in his hands; he’d accepted them without thinking, but he was sure he’d only ordered one. “Ah, you gave me an extra.”

She waved him off. “It’s a gift.”

As they walked away, Teomitl grinned at him. “I think she likes you.”

He unwrapped one tamale and took a bite, closing his eyes in bliss. Ah, there was the flaky fish, the shreds of bitter greens, the sharp heat of the chilies. Delicious. Then Teomitl’s words registered, and he glared at him as he swallowed. “She does not. She was just being polite.”

“Don’t look at me like that,” Teomitl huffed. “You’re a likable man, Acatl.”

“I…” It was rank flattery, just on the verge of being an outright lie—even if Teomitl seemed to be fond enough of him, it was hardly as though anyone else was lining up to agree—but it wasn’t anger that made him flush and fall silent. Teomitl’s tone hadn’t been teasing or mocking in the least; he’d said it as simply as he might have remarked on the weather, and it struck him to the core. I am short-tempered and petty and pessimistic, and he looks past all that and calls me likable. He could have melted on the spot.

Of course, then Teomitl commented, “I wonder what she would have done if I’d told her it was your birthday?” and that effectively slaughtered the moment in cold blood.

“Gods, please don’t.” Even the idea made an embarrassed flush crawl across the back of his neck.

“I won’t!” And Teomitl smiled, all sunshine. “What do you want to do now that we’ve gotten something to eat?”

He took another bite of his tamale, humming in pleasure at the bright burst of chili across his tongue. “I should check on my temple.”

“Alright, then we’ll go back there and—” Teomitl cut himself off as they turned a corner, the indistinct shouting they’d been hearing suddenly much louder and immediate. It seemed that a pen full of turkeys had gotten loose; since they were disinclined to remain caged, half the market was now engaged in either trying to catch them or figuring out who to blame for it. “...It’s a nice day. Let’s take the long way around.”

“...Good idea.”

The alternate route past the markets took them along a narrow canal that would fit perhaps two boats abreast. The streets were narrow here too, which meant that though there was no one around he still had an excuse for walking closer to Teomitl’s side than propriety dictated. He was happily listening to a tale of how hunters in Maya lands had brought a black jaguar and a white crocodile all the way to the House of Animals and agreeing that yes, he would like to see them when something in the water caught his eye.

“Is that—” he began.

And then the tlilcoatl latched its jaws around his ankle and pulled him into the canal.

“Acatl!”

Teomitl’s scream followed him, but he was in no shape to respond. Tlilcoatls were massive black serpents, a full armspan around with venomous fangs and jaws that could swallow a person whole, but the real danger was in their coils. If it pinned his arms, it would crush him to death. Frantically he tried to reach his knives, but the serpent had dragged him under before he could even take a breath, and his lungs were already burning.

And then it looped a coil around his chest, and he knew he was doomed. He still struggled, but it was the uncoordinated flailing of a desperate, dying man.

Pain.

Black spots in front of his vision.

The sudden bright bloom of ichorous blood in the water, and the coils around him jerking as something struck them. Teomitl…?

He renewed his efforts, but the snake weighed more than he did and its throes of pain were churning the mud at the bottom of the canal, making it impossible for him to tell which way was up. But there was Teomitl’s hand holding a knife and glimmering with Huitzilopochtli’s power, and there was another crimson bloom in the water, and suddenly the serpent’s coils went slack and his limbs were free.

Strong hands grabbed him under his arms and hauled him towards sunlight, and he broke the water with a gasp. Nothing felt broken, but everything hurt. His leg was a snarl of pain, and if Teomitl hadn’t been supporting him he never would have made it to dry land. Even when he did, it was some time before he could finish coughing up water and get back on his feet. It was early in the season for tlilcoatls; they usually came with the rains, and ones this size were thankfully rare.

He looked down at his ankle. Painful and bloody, but it bore his weight and wasn’t turning black, and he could still think clearly enough. A dry bite, then. The snake’s forked tail had caught Teomitl across the ribs, leaving two nasty-looking slashes he was currently prodding clinically at; it made Acatl bite his lip in agitation, but since he wasn’t wheezing or clenching his teeth in pain he probably hadn’t broken a rib. Probably. Gods, let him not be too badly hurt. I couldn’t bear it if he was.

Teomitl clearly had other concerns. He pressed his cloak to the wounds and huffed, “Well, that wasn’t the birthday present I’d had planned for you. Are you alright?” and all Acatl could do was stare.

The words flowed like tar through his mind. A birthday present. That’s right. I’m thirty-two today. I found gray hair this morning. Today’s my birthday, and Teomitl...Teomitl wanted to celebrate...

And then he burst out laughing. He was aware it was vaguely hysterical, but he couldn’t seem to stop. “A birthday present—” His laughter was a wheezing, near-silent thing that turned his face red and had been known to startle small children, and he literally couldn’t remember the last time it had been startled out of him. He might have snapped or screamed or stormed off, but Teomitl’s words had jarred him into hilarity instead. It was just too much, the last straw for his mind. Oh, my sweet man. My beloved.

His legs folded under him, and he crumpled slowly to the ground—now Teomitl was looking concerned, but he could no more have stopped laughing than he could have flown. It felt like an eternity before he could wheeze anything reassuring through an aching stomach and too-tense ribs. There were tears in his eyes. “Ah...hah, forgive me...it was just...the snake on top of everything else, and the way you said it—”

Teomitl smiled at him, warm and...gods, he could almost call that look tender, and it made his heart flutter. “It’s more than alright. Come on, let’s—”

“My lord!”

Ah. There were the Jaguar Knights, far too late to be of any help. They took in their charges’ soaking wet and bloodstained appearances with shock that only lasted a moment before they registered that Teomitl was deeply unhappy with them, and then it was replaced by very sensible and appropriate terror. After angrily commandeering their cloaks, he ordered them into the canal to drag out the tlilcoatl’s corpse before it could pollute the waters and then dropped to his knees by Acatl’s side, slicing the thick cotton for bandages and muttering viciously under his breath. There was some truly impressive profanity involved. As Acatl let himself be bandaged, he found himself smiling despite the pain. Some things didn’t change.

“There. How do you feel?”

Teomitl didn’t quite look at him. Acatl hoped he wasn’t blaming himself. But he flexed his foot and it didn’t hurt any more than it had already, so he couldn’t see why. They were both reasonably unhurt; Teomitl’s side had already stopped bleeding. There was nothing the man should have been castigating himself for, not after saving his life.

“I’m fine,” he said, and meant it.

- -

Teomitl didn’t speak again until they made it back to his house, though Acatl could feel simmering frustration pouring off him in waves. It felt a little like walking next to an unleashed jaguar, though the growling was replaced by stony silence and a steady flexing of his hands as though he’d like to wrap them around someone’s throat. Acatl wasn’t sure whether to comfort him or keep his distance.

Then they limped into his courtyard and Teomitl stopped, turning to meet his eyes directly. “...Acatl, I’m sorry.”

He blinked, trying to remember if they’d had a disagreement recently. He’d said he was fine. “For what?”

“Well, my guards are incompetent, for one thing. And…” Teomitl dropped his gaze. As Acatl watched, he started to blush. Gods, it was so much more appealing than it should have been. “I wanted…” He gestured helplessly, nothing at all like his usual stabbing motions, and visibly groped for his next words. “I wanted the day to be good for you.”

Oh, he thought. He felt like he was melting all over again, and for a moment he wavered on his feet with the sheer force of the love that pulsed through him. “It was.” He was bloodstained, sore, and still hungry, but he remembered the sweet pain of that laughter and all the myriad ways Teomitl had shown he cared for him.

“But—” Teomitl bit his lip and fell silent, looking so disappointed that it yanked on all of Acatl’s heartstrings.

He couldn’t blame what he did next on pity. Love and desire, yes, but not pity. His mind simply went from I want to make him smile again to the lightning-flash realization of I can do that in an instant, and without a second thought, he reached over and took Teomitl’s hand in both of his.

He felt his heart skip a beat as the man met his eyes and slowly—so slowly—started to smile. He’d been right. Words spilled out of his mouth, raw with the truth. “You were there by my side. So far, I’ve had a wonderful day.”

The very edge of that slow smile turned teasing. “...Only so far?”

He huffed, feeling impossibly fond even as a spike of honesty prompted him to murmur, “Well, it could always get worse.”

Teomitl took a step forward, well into his personal space, and lowered his voice. “It could get better, too.”

He still hadn’t let go of Teomitl’s hand.  It could get better was a meaningless platitude, the sort of thing that was easy to dismiss—but not when Teomitl was looking at him like that, with so much warmth in his gaze that even the thought of it heated his blood in return. He would have dismissed flirtation; he wasn’t someone to be played with and set aside. But Teomitl’s gaze was as steady and direct as it ever was, and it made him swallow hard. “...How so?”

“Well, I was going to take you on a tour of the palace gardens, but now...I’m not sure.” Teomitl shrugged almost carelessly, but the spark in his eyes was anything but. “Maybe we could find out. Together.”

The coward’s way would be to drop Teomitl’s hand and this line of conversation, to go inside and lay down before he fell over. He was done with being a coward. Amazed at his own daring, his heart hammering against his ribs, he whispered, “Maybe we could. I’m sure you have a few ideas.”

“Mmm. I do. Do you want to hear them?” They were very close now, and Teomitl leaned in closer. Warm breath puffed gently across his face.

He wasn’t sure he was breathing himself. He had to lick his lips several times before they were moist enough for him to speak. “Yes.”

The brush of lips against his own felt like a hummingbird’s wings—that soft, and that fast. By the time Acatl blinked, Teomitl had already pulled away. His voice was barely audible as he breathed, “Well?”

So this was what it felt like to live in a world where Teomitl had kissed him. The breeze was cold, but the sun was warm on his back and the hand in his was warmer yet. His ankle still throbbed, but the pain was bearable. A loose lock of hair in front of his face showed him yet another gray strand. His breath came slow and measured, his heart thumping like a great drum in his chest.

“I think,” he murmured, “that we should continue this inside.”

They did.

All in all, it was an excellent birthday.

[bts-story]

Have you heard of Nick Cannon's show "Wild 'N Out"? There's this segment in this show called "Got Damned" wherein each team has a representative to roasts their opponent, and if one of them takes too long to insult the other or their insult is a bit "shaky", the other team gets the point (It's also in youtube, check it out! v funny 😂 ) I would like to request where Namjoon and y/n (couple) were guests on the show but were on different teams, and have to roast each other. Up to you who wins :)

Got Damned — RM

Where is the line between something funny and something mean?

“Well, let’s roast!”

Being mean is intentionally hurting someone else. Anyone manifesting a will to harm, someone looking to attack and, or injure pain in any way. In this very situation, we talk about painful words. Something that is specifically aimed to hurt someone’s feelings, targeted like an arrow with its mark. It’s talking or pointing out the things about someone they complex about. In all, being mean is something wanted, meant to harm with the simple purpose to hurt someone exactly where there’s already a lot of pain.

“God of Destruction, they call you. Aren’t Gods supposed to be well-built?”

Being funny is the other world past the line. Someone, or something funny, is amusing and likely to make people smile or laugh. Something meant to entertain and distract someone. The good part of this segment, if you will, is how to embrace the amusing part of the joke. It’s to understand no harm was meant, no intended attack was targeted. Only pure amusement to divert the audience.

“Okay, now try again, but use your big-girl words, baby.”

It’s odd to imagine a reality show where all you have to do is mock and making fun of your opponents. The duality of this is, of course, understand where stands the line between being funny and being mean. The thing about entertainment is to find new subjects to distract the spectator because, let’s face it, we all get bored pretty easily by watching all the same things again, again and all over again.

“You know what, I don’t even argue with idiots. They just lower me to their level and I clearly can’t beat experience.”

A wave of laughter erupted from all around the studio, denouncing fingers pointed here and there, mouth wide open and some of the people around even clapped hard with their hands, holding tight at their belly. What’s good to notice about this show is to learn how important it is not to take any targeted joke seriously. People will only use physical normalities against each other, they would lash about something they may have said or done before. In all, it’s all calculated, directed to be as funny as possible with only merely crossing the line of being mean.

“You thought about that one on the way here, didn’t you? How many more do you have?”

“Oh, shaky, shaky,” the emcee warned with a disapproving shake of his head. But Namjoon still adored this smile at the corner of his lips, listening, carefully thinking about his next comeback. He wasn’t roasting just yet, only counter-backed your attacks. It may be a good sign because Namjoon has never really been good with insults, in all honesty.

“Yeah, too shaky. Like the first time you asked me out. ‘W-would you like to go-go on a date w-with me?’” It wasn’t true. Not one word about this was true, but no one had to know about that.

The joke was just too easy not to make, and considering the chuckle escaping Namjoon’s lips, you knew he wasn’t mad. In fact, he nodded his head, licked his lips before the emcee turned his head towards him, waiting for his response. “Need an answer or you’re out,” the other guy said, a warning in his eyes and he was already ready to call out Namjoon before the latter answered something among the lines –

“It’s pointless to make fun of her,” he argued to the man, “‘cause it’ll take her the rest of the day to figure it out.” Once more, all laughter erupted from all around. Namjoon had this unbeatable smirk at the corner of his lips you desperately wanted to beat off. It was smug and satisfied and it’s true to say Namjoon only wore it when he was proud of something (or ready to jump out on you and kiss every single each of your body).

You shook your head, clearing your throat as you quickly tried to think about a next insult to throw out. “If I throw a stick, will you leave already?”

It’s easy to say. Some jokesaren’t specifically meant to harm, and you know Namjoon wouldn’t really take it personally. He’s smart enough to understand the rules of this game, intelligent enough so he wouldn’t get hurt by the way of your words. “Speaking of leaving, why don’t you take your ‘I wish I was a model’-ass out of here?”

It’s more or less meant to spike. You can tell by the devilish spark in the middle of Namjoon’s irises, you can tell by the never-ever-fading smile on his lips. You nodded silently, trying to take the joke too seriously and it was about to get real because, you expected sooner or later, one of you would start to bring in real talk in the game.

Something the other might be insecure about, anything, really, that would destabilize them in any way possible. Still, no harm meant. “Why don’t youtake your weird lizard-looking, mama’s boy-ass out of here?”

“I would but mama makes such delicious cupcakes,” Namjoon said in a high-pitched voice, proudly. “At least she can cook.”

You wouldn’t even be able to cook to save your own life and, yes, Namjoon can’t possible do as well either, but the fact was directed for you and if you expected anything, it wasn’t that because, it’s just too easy. “Keep talking, you’ll probably end up saying something clever one day.”

It took a moment of laughter all around, a nod of Namjoon’s head before he continued, “You have fake hair, right? Fake nails, fake tan and if I’m not wrong, fake eyelashes too? Aren’t you…” Namjoon laughed, a hand on his chest to emphasize his words, “weren’t you actually made in China?”

It all ends that way.

Making the difference between something mean and something funny. It’s hard to tell where stands the line and it’s even harder to be able not to cross it. But what happens when the line is crossed, however?

Well, this is this feeling. When your heart breaks a little, and suddenly you’re not laughing anymore because something made your stomach twirls and your heart sting a little. There is nothing funny and the harm is already said and done. The line is already too far behind, and nothing anyone can say or do will magically suppress anything.

It’s that sick feeling, when you can actually feel the pain in your chest from hearing or witnessing something that really breaks your heart. But it’s all a game, well, it’s supposed to be a game. And games are meant to be fun and enjoyable. But when it’s not anymore, what do you do?

It wasn’t that big of a threat; however, it was enough to leave you speechless. An effective knockout which was indeed calculated because it’s the pure truth. The public chanted all together, celebrating how Namjoon knocked you out so easily. The smug smirk on his face growing larger as his teammates celebrated their little victory. Shaking your head, you let a slight laugh escaping your lips before disappearing behind the next player.

“Are you mad at me?” Namjoon asked later on, when the chaos of the studio had been shut down and you found yourselves back in the van, ready to head out back to the hotel. It’s safe to say you started to feel a headache forming inside your skull, literally hearing your heartbeats with each second passing.

You snuggled yourself further in his embrace, shaking your head side to side to deny. However, he knows you and he knows all your moods and all your flaws. And he knows when something is wrong or when something, anything, is bothering you. “M’just tired,” you tried to argue softly, hoping it’ll leave his doubts flowing away.

But he knows better. “It was just a game, yeah?” he stated quietly, holding you closer before planting a kiss on top of your head. His hand came to find yours and still moving from time to time due to the holes in the road, he caressed absently your fingers one by one.

“Yeah,” you replied lazily, already feeling your eyes shut down.

But it wasn’t enough for Namjoon, he needed to be sure you wouldn’t hold anything against him. That you wouldn’t be mad or annoyed of anything he might have said. After all, you said things too but, once again, he knows when something is wrong.

So he detached his fingers from yours to put them under your chin, lifting up your head to meet your eyes. And there was exactly what he loved the most about you. One can see so many things in the two orbs made to see, and your eyes always made him feel like he was the only man on earth. The only important thing that ever existed and kissing your lips delicately, he cupped your jaw, caressing the skin under his fingertips.

He does not need to say anything more, because looking right into your eyes, he finds all the answers he was searching for. You’re not mad.

You’re not mad, and you’re really just tired because that type of recording takes so long, and it literally drains your energy. But of all the things you said, and all the things he said, it was all just fun, and not harm was meant.

The line stands there. When you love someone, you know of all the things you can say and all the things you don’t. When you love someone, you make sure not to ever cross that line.

—————

Is it safe to say I’d let Justina Valentine step on me?! 

This took SO long and I’m SO sorry bby 

I hope it’s fine enough!! 

- Nageoire 

[dukeofriven]

Re-Reading Good Omens After Fifteen-Plus Years: A Review

[I a so sorry I didn’t get a chance to finish it before the show dropped the way i wanted - I had to bow out of Tumblr for most of the last few weeks to focus on a project. Bugger bugger bugger. Here it is now, later that I would have liked. Apologies, gentle readers. Spoilers, obviously for the whole book] I last read Good Omens some fifteen to seventeen years ago for probably the tenth or even twentieth time. I read it a lot. In the heady days of... I want to say grade ten?... no book seemed smarter, wiser, made me laugh more, and me feel smarter for having read it. I think my order of operations was all the Discworld books (up to, or just before, Night Watch) -> Good Omens ->  Sandman, with the later changing how I understood the nature of story itself (but that’s for another day.) I suspect that Good Omens, along with The West Wing, Tolkien, and The Golden Compass, along with an enormous Colonial Chip on my shoulder (and a pretentious stick up the ass) eventually led me to becoming a Classicist after a brief and dreadful dalliance with the theatre. At the very least it certainly helped. So, what do I know think of Good Omens, a book I once read at least ten times (probably more) back when I re-read favourite books the way other people  breathed often? (i.e. with constant regularity) Well, it’s not bad. It is not a bad book. It’s just not a great book. It’s not a terribly… cohesive book. It reads exactly like the kind of book that might get written if you and a fellow writer swapped a floppy disc back and forth in the mail a bunch of times adding bits as you went. Which, of course, is exactly what it is. The things I remember about the book remain as good as I remember  them being - which is a shame because all the really good bits I remember about the book are, with a few exceptions, in the first half (Death still incorrectly says Revelations instead of Revelation in the second half like I remember. He’s still wrong, and it’s still weird given that the right name is in the book earlier more than once.) Everything goes rapidly downhill the moment Armageddon actually kicks off...  something of a problem in a book about Armageddon whose entire second half is Armageddon. I remember Aziraphale and Crowley being great together. What I didn’t remember is that they spend most of the book apart, a crime because they’re at their best bouncing off one-another and far weaker solo, especially Crowley who really only has Hastur to talk to and he’s not a great conversationalist. If I could ditch Crowley Drives Really Hard and swap it for A&C Do Shit Together  I would. I remember Newt and Anathema becoming a couple. What I didn’t remember is that they are entirely superfluous to the narrative, as are the prophecies of Agnes Nutter herself. I kept trying to remember why it is that Newt and Anathema needed to be at the military base - turns out they don’t. Newt doesn’t even stop the countdown, that’s all Adam willing it otherwise. N&A then wander over to the main group and just kind of stand around. The only purpose of the prophecies is to give Aziraphale an idea of where Adam is. That’s it. This is extremely frustrating because Anathema talks about how working-out prophecies has allowed her family to triumph down the ages, and it sets Agnes up as someone who was executed for being a truth teller - for being an other - even though one day her prophecies would be so important for the world. But they're not! Their one tangible impact on the plot is to have Aziraphale make a phone call that he immediately hangs up. the prophecies only document the end of the world, they are irrelevent to the aversion of the End Times, which feels like one of several moments where the book Is Making A Point About Human Nature And Reader Expectations but is undone by my old friend lousy framing. Toy cannot position someone as having “they know not what they do” importance and then just not follow-through on that. There is, I think, a sense in the book that What It’s All About is quiet humanism: that the story isn’t really about Armageddon, but the smaller human stories that happened around it: Newt and Anathema falling in... love, I guess?  Mindy Newt: Homer Anathema, What’s wrong? Homer Anathema: Like you don’t know! We’re going to have sex! Mindy Newt:: Oh … We don’t have to. Homer Anathema: Yes we do! The cookie Book told me so

Or Shadwell and Madame Tracey. And that’s great - that’s a great theme. But the book fails to pull it off - largely, I think because once Armageddon kicks off it loses the human dimension its trying to argue is important for keeping the planet grounded, not because its trying to make that point, but because the authors get so distracted by writing a bunch of crazy Armageddon stuff that the actual important work - like fleshing-out characters and their stories properly - goes away in the hurly-burly of Important Shit Going down.

Take Adam. Adam lacks any real sense of interiority and wears his heart on his sleeve, which makes the will-he, won’t-he nature of Armageddon on which the whole book rests have... well, zero weight. Will Adam give in to his more evil nature? No. Of course he won’t. It’s not even a case of “of course he won’t ‘cause I know how stories go don’t I ain’t I clever” - it’s that Adam has no evil nature. None at all. A bit of child-like self-absorption , but that’s it. The book climaxes with Aziraphale realizing that the AntiChrist won’t pick sides because he is neither entirely Good or Evil - he is Just A Human, and therefore kind of both. The book has done a great job showing that duality of humanity: Mr. young, for example, isn’t a bad man. Nor is he a good one. He’s an average man, with all sorts of awful little prejudices and thought patterns, but equally enough basic decency that nobody could call him a monster anymore than a saint. So often in the book people do Bad Things without being depraved lunatics - they just get caught up in the churning mediocrity of life, what Arendt dubbed the ‘banality of evil’ after the Eichmann trial. The telemarketers aren’t child killers, and they don’t deserve their (frankly sickening and brutal) deaths - but every day they hurt people in small, irritating, vexing ways, perpetuating some horrid not because they’re nightmares but because it’s just their job. Again, that’s great. That’s why the first part of the book is the strongest: it’s full of the kinds of humanity you don’t normally see in literature outside of the Golgafrinchan Ark Fleet Ship B. Desperately ordinary people - the real kind of ordinary, not the ordinary that tends to turn into anime heroes. But Adam isn’t ordinary. Not remotely. The book says this again and again, calling him a young Adonis, alluding to his unearthy Luciferian beauty, to his passions, to his commanding voice, to his leadership skills. His friends adore him, and for all that they might get argumentative with him the sheer god-like weight of his Presence cannot be ignored.  So when Aziraphale explains:

"He was left alone! He grew up human! He's not Evil Incarnate or Good Incarnate, he's just… a human incarnate.” 

My response is a rather limp “Um, well... no. No he’s not.”

“Aha!” I hear you cry. “The book’s not saying he’s ordinary, it’s saying he’s the embodiment of humanity: all their vices and virtues are amplified within him, and that’s why he has superhuman powers.” To which i reply that yeah, it’s certainly what the book is insisting in the case. But it’s not demonstrated within the text. I said above Adam lacks interiority: what you see is what you get. And what you get has zero amplification of evil. Adam seems like a genuinely good kid - in fact he is such a good kid that the book actually makes a point of commenting on how he is basically living in a parodic homage of a Boy’s Own Adventure novel. If Jack Trent, Frank Hardy, Tom Swift, and half the cast of Aladdin Paperbacks‘ first decade of publishing rolled up in a clown car and asked Adam if he wanted to hang, he’d fit right in. And they’re all painfully decent people. Adam status as a “troublemaker” - that is, even the vaguest implication that he is capable of “mischief” - is undermined by the book highlighting that the kind of people who complain about that sort of thing are Doddering Tory Blowhards like R. P. Taylor who wouldn’t know fun if it dressed like Margaret Thatcher and dry-humped their legs.  For Adam to be the incarnation of humanity there has to be a sense that he is more human than human - that his capacity for good and his capacity for evil are so great that with him him the form of gestalt of pure humanity. But that’s rubbish. Because Adam does nothing the book seems to think is worthy of meaningful censure, or at least nothing that literally any child might do as well (like ruining his sisters dress while dunking her in the water). If the best the book can do to balance out Adam’s Local Boy Heroically Saves Summer Camp And Solves The Mystery Of The Puzzle Riddle Enigma is that well he’s kind of inward facing like every other 12 year old then, well... that really takes the wind out of the book’s big summating point. The same kind of language that gets used about Adam feel like you could copy past it into a Discworld book to describe Carrot Ironfoundersson.

So when, as happens. the book shows Adam coming Into his power and talk about Remaking The World, we don’t have to think he will and that all is lost - we know how to read stories, we’re not idiots. But we should at least have a passing moment of worry that he could had the circumstances been slightly different - that he, poised on the edge of good and evil, could go either way were it not for the redemptive power of his ordinary human upbringing keeping him ground. Which, I think is safe to say, is the conclusion the book puts forward. But there is no ‘could.’ Of course he won’t - there’s no tension there at all. The book kills it stone dead, in fact, when it notes that:

Seems to me it ought to be rolled up and started all over again," said Adam. That hadn't sounded like Adam's voice.

and

Adam wasn't listening, at least to any voices outside his own head.

Adam is described as basically being possessed - at the most critical point of Armageddon, when the AntiChrist is placed to make a choice not even between Good and Evil but between The Harbinger Theological Inevitability and Sod All That Let’s Just Keep Living Because I’m A Human it is no choice at all because Theological inevitable is distinctly described as being separate from who Adam is. Which is dreadful! Adam is American Dennis the Menace - he sometimes get Into Mischief and Breaks A Vase or Ruins A Garden but he’ll still hang out being a friend to a lonely old coot - when he ought to be much closer to the British Dennis the Menace - an monster of a child who spent most of his seventy years of existence essentially bullying gay kids (”softies”) but also, now and again, when the moon’s aligned, showed a Heart of Gold under his menacing exterior. Adam didn’t need to be BritDennis, but he damn well needed some kind of edge to him - a REAL edge, not ‘well he can be bossy’ or ‘he had devilment in his eyes’ or ‘he could be thoughtless.’ Adam needed to have scenes of him being a little shithead: not killing pets, but at least being spiteful or snide or capable of sin. In To Kill A Mockingbird Jem destroys Mrs. Dubose's flowers in a fit of pique. That’s something. Adam? Nothing. So there’s nothing to hang the tension on, and any time to book has any anxiety about Adam’s moral character it rings hollow, because Adam is fundamentally decent and good and nothing so much as feints at the idea that any part of him might be otherwise.

Plus, to bring it back to the prophecies being useless, Adam gets upset about the state of the world because he borrows some of Anathema’s Save The Wales magazines, which he would never have been able to do had the Book not made her go to Tadfield in the first place. Now the book has a certain “Butterfly Flaps Its Wings” mindset - sometimes it’s the little things that put big things and motion.  

But it’s muddled, because it implies that Armageddon is nothing but a last-minute whim of a mercurial child: which is great for when the plot of your book is a deconstruction of the idea of Inevitability, but a bit rubbish when the OTHER major theme of your book is that human evil is in ordinary narrow-mindedness. The idea of a story where everything builds up to Armageddon - but Armageddon fails to arrive like an eschatological Godot, (leaving everyone standing around a bit puzzled) is a great theme for an ironic novel. But it clashes again and again with the theme of the book’s first half- that humanity is more creatively terrible and kindly virtuous than any devil and or angel could hope to be. The corollary of that ought to be that when Armageddon arrives it is precisely because of that human fallibility. Having all this build up and have it massively fizzle out can work, when written right - The Real Treasure Was The Friendships You Made is always funny when handled correctly. But Good omens builds up to things and drops them half a dozen times in the finale, which ends up not seemingly like comedic point but an inability by two authors to "bring the story home” and tie any of their threads together. I mean take the actual act of Armageddon itself: when Adam starts making the world go doo-lally, we keeping hearing reports of the world getting more agitated: we can see the shape of Armageddon begin to emerge, but because we’re still clever buggers and have read our Eliot we know that what’s likely to break the world isn’t going to be bang but a whimper: General John Amerioman gets off the phone agitated by a telemarketers, years at his secretary until she cries so she forgets to inform him that President McSmith called and because he didn’t call her back the President fails to get the advice she needs and makes a foolish error that pisses-over the Russian president who is then gets petty about something else and on down the line until a series of understandable but critical failures of empathy - don’t yell at your secretary, don’t cold-call people about duct cleaning - sets the table for the nuclear. That Adam stops it is because he shares that same fallibility and knows that punishing humanity for it as a requirement for Divine Inevitability would be unconscionable. But when Armageddon arrives, humanity has literal dick-all to do with it. We get this lovely buildup with the Four Horsemen the entire book - Revelation says they will be present at the Day of judgement so its time to get the band back together. The narrative of the book fixates of the Four Horseman’s ride to the airbase, with the understanding that once they arrive Armageddon will begin because everyone is congregating on that place at this time. So the Four Horseman arrive and... and the disguise themselves as some generals to get on the base, they break into a computer vault, and then... Jesus, War personally fucks with a computer and then Pollution personally corrodes the counter measure systems with Death and Famine stand around and watch (so much bloody standing around watching the plot happen in the part of the book) them do it, at which point all the nuke silos all over the world open up and countdown begins. What. THE FUCK? Humanity is irrelevant to the end of the world, exception in the broadest sense where they had these destructive weapons in the first place.  But they also had extensive security systems that the book notes are really good until Two Supernatural Beings Broke In And Destroyed Them. There is no human element in Armageddon: all that chatter on the radio about rising tensions and increased stress? Meaningless. The book’s whole point about evil lurking in the hearts of every ordinary person - that really anyone is capable of being good or evil on a given day, and that one angry secretary is as capable of starting the end times because of a telemarketer as any raving dictator with their finger on the button? Irrelevant. As much as War and Pollution are said to be mere embodiments of humanity’s failings, existing solely in ‘THE MINDS OF MAN” (baffling in and of itself had Pestilence not been swapped-out for Pollution, because lets be honest that would have meant waving a hand at everything from the Black Death to AIDS and calling its source moral failing which what the fuck, T&N?), they’re all actually characters with agency and personality and will. Which means within the context of what’s happening Armageddon is caused by two characters going out of their way to FORCE it to happen.

(It’s! Shit! The book right here? Shit. All the keen oft-comedic insight as to the nature of the human condition  is throw away in this moment. A book that seems so devoted to making a reader think seriously about complacency, about letting evil slip on by because its not wearing a big scary mask (and god how prescient that seems in times like these - how horrible correct it was that we were complacency in the 80s and the 90s and didn’t notice the evil rising all around us), drops the ball here and doesn’t require humanity for its climax.

"I don't see what's so triflic about creating people as people and then gettin' upset 'cos they act like people," said Adam severely. "Anyway, if you stopped tellin' people it's all sorted out after they're dead, they might try sorting it all out while they're alive.”

That’s a great sentiment, Adam. Only nobody is this moment is cross about people acting like people because nobody had - the world nearly ended because some Non-people willingly broke shit. Also, in the context of the novel - it being détente and glasnost and the Tear Down This Wall speech and Zhao Ziyang making reforms in China and on and on - as far as anyone could tell people WERE working it out. The book notes this explicitly, in fact:

“...reports available to us would seem to, uh, indicate an increase in international tensions that would have undoubtedly been viewed as impossible this time last week when, er, everyone seemed to be getting on so nicely.”

Again: Armageddon isn’t caused by people. So when Adam tells Heaven that if they just back off people might be able to sort things out for themselves, well... they seemed to have been doing just that, book.You yourself said so. And the end times were brought about by non-human actors.)

So Adam and his friends confront the Horseman and “defeat” them through some last minute cosplay. Why? No clue. The imagery is great but I don’t know why they do it - the Four Horseman are heralds of the end times, and perhaps its chorus, but now they’re villains that need to be defeated I guess (even though Adam fixes what they did with a wave of his hand anyway). Newt and Anathema arrive on the scene because Agnes Nutter told them to, and they get to the computer, and now maybe poor bumbling Newt is going to have to fix a computer when he’s only ever broken them while Anathema... stands there Jesus God... except... except Adam waves his hand and fixes the computer making Newt’s presence irrelevent. Well, still, more book to go, maybe they can pull something good out of this. Armageddon may have fizzled out, but it’s still The Day of Judgement and the Last Battle. Newt and Anathema might not have fixed the computer, but the are here at the airbase, and they make the most of it by doing nothing, providing nothing, and being needed for nothing. Shadwell and Madame Tracey are there - Shadwell is the vessel for Aziraphale, and once he’s out he stands at the sides with A&C and prepares to march with them on the combined hordes of hell and heaven. Except that that doesn’t matter because Adam makes a gesture and gives a nice speech that’s sadly unrelated to to the world as described by Good Omens up to this point, and the Hordes of Heaven and Hell shuffle their feet and decided to go home for a bit to have a good long think about some things ha ha ha how droll. And the Then, oh no, SUDDENLY Satan himself appears - I guess its time to take our issues to upper management, surely Godot- I mean God - will come to and - oh, nope, Adam waved his hand again and its just Mr. Young in his shitty car (that really should have been a Wasabi what the heck, T&N?). It’s anti-climatic. I don’t mean from a standpoint of dramatic irony, I mean everything falls apart in the book as the story comes to a screeching halt. Here you have a reasonable collection of painfully ordinary people (hella white and straight people, but its 1990 we’re not terribly woke yet) - not Generals, not Presidents or Prime Ministers, not Corporate Titans or Dictators or anyone “Important” - just ordinary people present at the End of the World. And what is it in the ineffable plan that requires all these people’s presence at the End Times? Nothing really. Just think about this for a moment. Think about what OUGHT to have happened here. Not a battle, not a fight, not a war - we know from Endgame how disappointing it is to have to sit through a big dumb set piece battle that nobody seems to want: boring slog. No, what OUGHT to have happened is the power of humanity: that these ordinary nobodies come together and halt the end times, make the Legions of Heaven & Hell see - if not reason - then at least reconsider what’s happening, or even confront Satan himself not with the virtue of Saints but simply because they have what made Aziraphale and Crowley fall in love with the Earth the way they did: the charm of humanity. If an angel and a demon can both be redeemed by the love of humanity’s virtues and vices, its deeps and faults, then why couldn’t Satan himself do the same? Well, because Adam fixed everything with a few hand waves and a pissy speech so that’s all that solved. nobody but him needed to be there - not even A&C, who just end up commenting on the action while standing around like everyone else. It’s barmy. No wonder my brain erased it, choosing to remember the book at its best when it was still scaled to humanity. The book ends up having failed to make any of its points stick - the ordinary evil men do has nothing to do with Armageddon so its probably not something we should be terrible concern about - that just us loveable old humans doing as humans do. We learn that if Heaven and hell just stepped back and let people talk things out maybe the world would get better - but that was the case at the start of the book (prologue notwithstanding), and nothing that happened in the book adjusted that in any way.It has a point to make about the unfairness of Moral duality in Theology - except that Adam is parodically virtuous and contains no real evil so.. yeah, Good is great, actually, what was the point you were making, book? The book has a point to make about the value of ordinary people: if you need someone to stand around and observe shit get ordinary people, they’re great last standing around and not meaningfully doing anything.

And don’t even get me started on things like Anathema’s passivity. Look at her character: she passively lives her life by the prophecies until the day after the End Times Newt says ‘hey do you want to be a descendent for the rest of your life’ and Anathema has an epiphany - Oh, No, I Don’t, I Want to Live my Own life On Its Own Terms - and then they burn the sequel Agatha wrote instead of following it. But that’s… aaargh, Jesus, so many problems with that. The moment of epiphany is meaningless because if Agnes-The-Prophet (who would presumably have known that her manuscript was to be burnt) hadn’t sent it, Anathema was free anyways and would have had to live her life as such regardless. You could argue ‘but this way it becomes an active choice rather than a passive acquiescence to something she can’t change’ but the problem is that her decision isn’t rooted in anything except a comment Newt makes. Nothing happened to Anathema that has in any way affected her relationship to Agnes Nutter or her life as a decedent: in the book Anathema talks a lot about prophecies, lends a kid some magazine, boinks a guy who crashed his car, takes him to a military base, does nothing while watching the world end, goes home and boinks the guy again, and then has her memories of a large portion of the last day or so erased by the Anti-Christ. So when Newt asks ‘do you want to be a professional decedent all your life” why would she say “no”? She’s spent her life devoted to the prophecies, even become a watch as some kind of career, and what sense do we have in the story that she is dissatisfied with that? The only disappointment we get is that she’s kind of let down by Newt being not terribly handsome - but that’s Newt’s issue, not Agnes’. The book wants Anathema to realize that she is now ‘free” of living by prophecy - but she doesn’t ever give the sense that she feels imprisoned by prophecy. She seems to feel like its a mark of distinction, and nothing over the last day - even the shit she can’t remember - has done anything to change that. There’s a version of this story where  Anathema repeatedly demonstrates that she feels powerless in life: that all her choices were chosen for her, even something as outré as becoming a witch, and so when Newt asks her that question she looks back over the events of the last few days - or even her life - and makes the decision to say ‘no’ as a natural extension of her recent experiences. In this version of the book she and Newt would have to have  actively made choices at the airbase of their own free will in contradiction of what Agnes said MUST and WILL happen, and because they did that things are better than Agnes said they would be. 

But that doesn’t happen, and instead we get the version where Anathema burns the sequel because Newt’s in her life now and having a man to point out the obvious is what all women need. That’s not what the book is trying to say but this-time-round that’s how it read to me. If Newt had had to run up to London for a couple days and she got the manuscript in the mail she would have kept it, because why wouldn’t she? 

(Gosh, Newt. One last point: I hated Newt. Maybe ‘schlubbly ordinary dope who gets the girl’ was revolutionary in 1990 but thirty years of pathetic nerd heroes getting the girl have left me only able to focus on the pathetic. He gets to be the the Jen to Anathema’s Kira - a completely useless dolt who gets lead around by a capable woman who knows everything and has all the skills  but he still gets to be The Hero because, well, he’s the dude. He gets to bumble around the missile computers at the climax at the book, framed as a hero while Agetha stands there and pleads with him to fix things. He spends his time getting horny for Anathema and thinking sadboy ‘maybe I’ll get to touch a girl for once’ crap  - which made my skin crawl oh sweet Jesus. Basically just fuck that guy and his whiny Pitiful Loser Nerd attitude.)

Look, when the book is good, it is SO GOOD. “Shadwell hated all Southerners and, by inference, was standing at the North Pole” is one of the great lines of literature. Famine and the dieting meals that kill you? Genius. The individual prophecies of Agnes? Wonderful. Shadwell seeing her in a vision (which, alas, comes to nothing because Shadwell having a change of heart about witches comes to nothing really)? Poignant. The Hell’s Angels? Wonderous. The incredible, perfect, oh god I adore is so much defence of the virtues of Rural English life at its best - full of foibles, yes, painfully human, yes, liable to contain shitty old Tories who put people into power who’ll plow it all under for suburbs, yes - but yet, at the same time, wonderful, too. Worth preserving. Worth fighting for. yes yes a thousand times yes let’s seeing a song about it:

Sure, some of the stuff hasn’t aged well (there’s a bit abut First Nations people that comes to mind), but most of it has - and some of it as bold for its time as it remains now. I frequently found myself thinking “this book is much too complicated for Tumblr” - the Tumblr world of Good or Bad doesn’t really have room for Shadwell, the indiscriminate racist with the heart of gold. Parts like that had me shaking with laughter - I can still recite whole scenes to you with manic glee. But the ending is a mess. It’s bad, actually - just outright bad. The book starts great. It ends terribly. It’s a crushing disappointment to go back too - and when I heard the story on the show was going to be super-faithful to the books I went “shit - but the book’s a bit rubbish on the story front. All the good bits are the characters interacting and the side stories and comedic asides - the actual story is a confusing mess.” That’s why I hope Neil Gaiman brought the writing chops that gave us The Doctor Wife and not, y’know, Nightmare in Silver.

In conclusion: man I remember Good Omens being a whole lot better. (Also, I remember more of Adam’s Gang having more to do, and they didn’t, and they’re all great and that’s a shame.) 

[deer-rising]

Lair Review for Batcrooks

I’ve never done one of these before, but boy i sure love to an an Opinion so here we go. for @flightdescending​ 

first up in every way, Abraham.

now, we are All Love Abraham. it’s just a fact of life. people who are existing, we eat, we sleep, we Love Abraham. That said its still weird to see him in a starlight cloak, Classic Brand Abraham wears one of the awful satin ponchos and looks amazing. although actually that said the tunic is so much worse than i remember, and therein lies the duality of Abe - 

he has no tert (a renowned dragon crime), he wears the most questionable of clothes, and yet, he’s so good. hes a good man and we all love him.  

Next up, Catshark

catshark not only a) looks good but b) has SUCH a good concept. a ridgeback that uses a bird to fish??? genius. stunning. brilliant. im mad i didnt think of it myself. notable is a Very good use of thylacine, which imo is a very hard gene to use, and the apparel is all very considered, and having the icepick as a giant fishing hook is a just dandy application of it.

Hermit

goooOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOD I LOVE HIM!!!!! i love the concept of an immortal quasi-deity whose physical appearance is influenced by the viewer SO MUCH its hard for me to put into words. but god... love it... he is the EXTREME example of what i call ‘the batcrooks effect’, wherein dragons i would normally be indifferent or actively dislike are just. the bees goddamn knees. when you were wondering to even buy him, i told you not to!

(image, me being a goddamn FOOL with HACK OPINIONS.)

and now i would die for him. i love him so much......... you create such good and endearing characters, and so Many of them. Pod, Hermit, David, BASTARDO? twotwo and threethree??? damien was slightly before my time but he was a Big player. starshrooM????????? love them. 

to get back on track: Cherryberry

half bird, half mushroom. 100% ninja. 

for a dragon that was meant to be a fodder machine i have gotten entirely too attached. every time i see him and his bio i smile and it makes me happy! hes a gentle souk...... his accent is perfect for him, and i like how you majority hid the weird lightning claws so its just lil hints of a electric crackle.

Kattuz

love it. love that barbarian chic. cape? good. knife? goooood. lil baby tusks? goooooooood. she even has primal! she lucked into prial on like, the third phial and thats incredible.  spines also looks fresh as fuck on lady snaps. 10/10, wish she was mine.

and lastly, but by god not leastly. kreet

honestly how much really even needs to be SAID about kreet. she has her own ballad, shes a legend , and i love her. she is perfect.

this is just a couple but man i love your lair. maybe more than my own? idk, i get such a kind of, sheer visceral enjoyment out of your lair. i really could go on about, 90% of it but to be honest most of it is just. ‘dragon is Good i Like it. Art. Pictur.... preti, colr’

A* lair, you did a Good Job

(please note, that having read this review you have agreed to my terms and conditions, of which there is 1, and that is that you now owe me ten thousand gems (10,000g) in fees for this very professional lair review)