#to loud public acclaim

[bigskydreaming]

That last reblog has me now contemplating.

What if to mess with his shiny new little brother, but like....gently....when they first started hanging out Dick told Jason a couple of slight falsehoods as umm. A training exercise. That’s it. It was about helping Jason get up to speed with his information gathering skills and also his bullshit detection. So in the interest of being helpful and A Good Big Brother, Obviously....Dick sowed a few.....less-than-entirely-factual details about the more fantastical elements of their lives. The stuff that isn’t common or public knowledge to most of the DC Earth. And then he just.....waited to see how long it took Jason to realize Dick had fed him a handful of straight up lies when briefing him about All Things Superhero.

Look, it was for Science. That’s Dick’s story and he’s sticking to it.

Thus, for the first couple months of their new sibling relationship, Dick had Jason convinced that Atlanteans were actually aliens who landed here thousands of years ago, speedsters can run so fast they can travel back in time, and Superman once accidentally let out a burp so forceful it created a shockwave that shattered every glass in a quarter mile radius so whenever he starts to look....gassy....your best course of action is to hit the deck. Don’t even hesitate for a second, just dive to the ground and grab some floor until he’s got it back under control. And oh yeah, Diana has her Lasso of Truth, but Donna’s version of truth-related powers is that she can sense when people are up to no good....only, the way this manifests for her is she suddenly registers a distinct bad smell in her vicinity, alerting her that bullshit is afoot.

“You’re kidding,” Jason said flatly. “You expect me to believe that Donna can literally smell bullshit?”

Dick just raised an eyebrow. “Like that’s somehow less plausible than Gar being able to change into any kind of animal but only in shades of green? And oh yeah, speaking of green, Green Lanterns can do just about anything with their rings....except protect themselves from yellow paint? I don’t make the rules, Jace. The truth is sometimes superpowers aren’t super-glamorous and not everything related to magic or gods or other planets is as....sophisticated...as we presume. I mean, its not like these things exist just to match up to our expectations for them. Why should alien civilizations or the rules of magic be influenced by whether or not our society would find something weird or ridiculous?”

Jason chewed his lower lip contemplatively. He lacked an official bullshit detecting power himself, but he did have good instincts. Unfortunately for him, his shiny new big brother gave good Lying-to-your-face Face.

“Plus, if you really think about it, it does make a kind of sense,” Dick continued to explain helpfully. But only according to certain specific interpretations of ‘helpfully’ that actually mean ‘like a liar.’ “Our brains are constantly translating all kinds of input and stimuli into shapes or patterns we can actually process in a way that means something to us. So we can make use of that information. This is just the same thing. Donna’s power takes however many variables are involved in registering something as false or something she needs to be wary of...and just condenses it into a simple ‘red alert’ indicator that takes all that abstract, ephemeral data and makes it something actionable. Something she can actually do something with. Her power - or how her brain perceives it - just didn’t actually consult her or give her a choice of notification settings, because why would it?”

“I guess that makes sense,” Jason begrudgingly agreed, with a frown that suggested this particular ‘truth’ Offended his sensibilities.

“I mean, you can ask Donna to explain it herself if you want,” Dick said with a shrug. “Just a heads-up though....she’s not really a fan of how that power works either. Its not exactly a superpower anyone wants to be known for, and she’s heard allllll the jokes about it by now. Roy, Wally and I were perhaps....not the most sensitive when we were younger and she was honing that particular skillset? Though in our defense, I maintain that most of our jokes were hilarious. But anyway, just saying. If you wanna bring it up with her directly, go right ahead! Its definitely one of her favorite topics and Amazons are for sure known for how well they handle being self-conscious.”

And that’s the story of the three months Jason spent convinced that Atlanteans were from another planet, confusing the hell out of Garth with his occasional references to ‘your homeworld’ and his numerous questions about all the Atlantean Green Lanterns that he for some reason seemed convinced the Green Lantern Corps must obviously have a long history of.

And its also why Jason spent those same three months getting wide-eyed and nervous any time he noticed Donna’s nose so much as twitch when he was around. Which it did a lot more often than usual, thanks to how often Dick got horseradish to go with whatever he was having for lunch, knowing full well that Donna can not stand the smell of horseradish. (Dick’s actually not a fan either, and he hates how it tastes, but he’s not afraid to Suffer for the sake of Shenanigans. Its a fundamental part of the Robin experience and persona, after all.)

But it was the Donna thing that gave Dick away, ultimately. No matter how hard he tried to keep a lid on how entertaining he now found the sight of Donna’s occasional nose twitch...even a Batkid poker face can’t keep an empath and telepath from finding this a mystery worth untangling after the tenth time it happens.

(Not that Lilith or Raven are gonna apologize for prying any time soon. They had an obligation as his friends and teammates to investigate when he’s acting bizarre, y’see. What if its because he was brainwashed again? “We’re intrusive because we love,” Lilith insists with zero shame. Raven clarifies: “I was intrusive because she was already doing it so there seemed no point not to.” Lilith points out that this could also be construed as a sign of strong leadership potential. Dick glowers. Lilith waves a hand dismissively. “We can circle back to that later. That’s fine.”)

Anyway, the truth came out at last, Jason cites this as the Moral Justification for every single time and way he was a pain in the ass to Dick in the years to come, and Donna - who was Not Amused - gave a pointed sniff and called bullshit when Dick tried to claim this was an important Bonding Opportunity for he and Jason, wherein they became brothers ‘for real’ instead of just via Bruce. “There are intricate sibling rituals to be observed,” Dick insisted. “I did my research! We had so much time to make up for, I had to speedrun through my shenanigans to get us all caught up! Would I have done all this if I didn’t care?”

Every Titan in the room, familiar with the lengths he’d gone to when messing with Rogues and randos as Robin and thus distinctly unimpressed: Yes. Absolutely. One hundred percent.

Dick foraged on heroically. “Regardless! That’s not the case here, as all of this was clearly done in the name of brotherhood and bonding! We’ll laugh about this someday, you’ll see!”

Ten years later, after Jason’s returned as the Red Hood and reintegrated with the Batfamily to varying degrees, enough so that he accompanies Dick and the rest of the OG Titans on a mission where they’re ambushed, captured and trapped in a supervillain dungeon they’re now trying to escape...

Dick: Definitely kicking myself for not seeing that ambush coming. Where’s a bullshit-sniffing power when you really need it, huh?

Jason: Still not laughing yet.

Dick: Oh come on!

As far as the rest goes, Jason does get a kick out of the speedsters discovering that actually, they can run fast enough to travel through time. He’s like, despite your best efforts you accidentally got one right. And Dick’s all ‘was it an accident or did I actually know or have strong suspicions all along’....but Jason shuts that down. “Nope. Not giving you this one. Try it with someone else.”

However, that still left one last card in play, long after everyone - even Dick and Jason themselves - had all but forgotten about it.

See, every Batkid knows that the best lies contain elements of truth. And that’s why Dick only peppered in his fake trivia very, very sparingly amidst a massive info-dump of actually accurate and useful info he gave Jason about all that stuff, way back when.

So despite the handful of things Dick had told him that Jason eventually discovered to be untrue...the vast majority of it did check out.

Which means even once he did catch on to Dick’s game....that didn’t change his acceptance of the stuff that had turned out to be true or verified by others. But in the end, there was only one little fib that slipped under the radar. Because the scenario it was based on just never happened to come up until long after Jason had returned....and thus Jason never had reason to put much thought into actually questioning whether or not it was true. Not until long after he’d stopped scrutinizing stuff Dick had told him, in search of possible ‘traps.’

And THAT is the story of how Jason - on one of the rare occasions that he joined the Titans and Justice League for an all-hands-on-deck kinda teamup - just happened to be in the right wrong place at the right wrong time to notice Superman suddenly start to look queasy after trying some alien cuisine....

And without a second thought, Jason just instinctively dove for the floor. With this followed by Clark letting out an extremely normal-sounding burp and a sheepish apology.

Everyone else, staring at the infamous Red Hood ducking for cover because Clark had a moment of indigestion: umm. wut

Dick, staring wide-eyed at his brother and trying not to laugh: Oh shit. I totally forgot all about that.

Jason, almost conversationally, while climbing to his feet and stalking ominously towards his big bro: Hey can you believe that after all the shit we’ve been through and all the times we’ve fought over like...actual life and death stuff, THIS is the thing I’m actually gonna kill you for?

Dick, backing away, hands raised placatingly: Hey, c’mon now, Jace, we called a truce about all this ages ago, remember? It was a much younger, dumber me who did all that in the first place, y’know? You’re better than this!

Jason: I’m really not.

Dick: Well then can I just take this opportunity to mention again how sorry I am for any creative embellishments I might have once come up with, in the mistaken belief that I was honoring important traditions of brotherhood, and....

Jason: Hey, where’s Donna? Can anyone see if her nose is twitching?

Donna and the rest of the Titans, blatantly amused and offering no explanation to the very confused Justice League: Oh, bullshit absolutely detected. In the interests of Truth and Justice, you should totally proceed.

Dick, jabbing his finger at his teammates before dashing for the door: Betrayal! J’accuse!

Donna, shrugging: Sorry, Rob. Justice demands impartiality. Our hands are tied.

Jason, running out the door and down the hallway in pursuit of his fleeing brother: Yeah you better run! I’ve waited ten fucking years to get back at you for this shit. Where you going anyway, bro? I thought you wanted to laugh about this someday!

Dick (offscreen): I regret nothing! It was all worth it! You should have seen your face!

Jason (offscreen): You couldn’t even see my face, idiot! I’m wearing my fucking helmet!

Dick (offscreen): Semantics! If something’s funny enough, you can sense what someone’s face probably looks like! If you know, you know!

Jason (offscreen): Oh yeah, go ahead and make up some more shit, Grayson, that’s definitely the right way to go here!

Batman, looking to the Titans and waving his hand at...whatever all that is offscreen: Explain.

Roy: Hey don’t look at us. You’re the one who made them brothers. This is on you.

Batman: What does that even mean.

Lilith: If you know, you know. Dick’s right about that much at least.

The Titans all nod like an actual, self-evident truth was just expressed. Bruce pinches the bridge of his nose, and starts muttering under his breath.

“You need to encourage Dick to seek out and make like-minded friends, Alfred said. It’ll be good for him, he said. Its what he needs and definitely not the point everything starts to go downhill.”

Lilith picks it up loud and clear, because of course she does, and incidentally, the smug, obnoxious know-it-all teenage psychic who started hanging out with Dick when they were teenagers has absolutely nothing to do with Bruce’s profound dislike of telepaths, nooooo, that would be ridiculous and irrational, to bear a grudge against everyone with a particular skillset because one of your son’s childhood friends was a royal pain in the -

Lilith: Oh, that’s adorable. He thinks we’re the reason Dick’s so profoundly weird and inexplicable.

The Titans, in unison: LOL.

Roy: The self-deluding, it is strong in that family.

Bruce is suddenly extra glad he’s wearing a cowl that hides what is definitely not a pout but might be mistaken for one by the uninformed thus its better to just dodge that issue entirely. He crosses his arms and stares down the collection of his eldest son’s friends, whom he has been unfairly plagued by since most of them were pre-pubescent little demons. Literally no one has suffered like he has.

“I don’t like you,” he informs them officiously. Not sulkily. Officiously.

Several of them snort. There’s a couple giggles. An eye roll from Roy. An aborted response hastily turns into Wally coughing into his hand. Blatant dismissal from Victor, his attention clearly on whatever he’s browsing online. Three varying shades of raised eyebrows: unflappable bemusement from the sorceress, patronizing amusement from the psychic, naked incredulity from Donna. Garth gazing off into an empty corner which he has on very good authority is basically the Atlantean version of the middle finger.

“Yeah, no shit,” Roy drawls, apparently on behalf of the whole group.

Ugh, they’re just. The worst. Why couldn’t Clark have had a kid Dick’s age so he never had to go looking elsewhere for socialization? That’s it. Clearly this was all Clark’s fault. He can’t believe he never realized that before.

Dammit Clark.

[iliketangerines]

my first time requesting something… but can you write tomas fucking the reader after he gets jealous seeing how johnny cage flirts with her?

mine to have

a/n: i gotchu cutie, and mmmmmm dom!smoke lives in my head rent-free. also, guess who's on break? that's right, me! i'll try and get through as many requests as possible this week.

pairing: smoke x afab!reader

warnings: nsfw (MDNI), pussy-eating, creampies, semi-public sex (?)

Tomas seethes in the corner as he watches Johnny Cage shamelessly flirt with you

you had begged him to go with him to the Wu Shi Academy to go and see the acclaimed Johnny Cage, and he had agreed

and now, he was regretting that decision as he watches you fawn over the actor as Johnny places a much too friendly hand around your waist

Tomas stalks over to you two and nearly rips you from the actor’s arms but manages to seem somewhat polite as he pulls Johnny’s hand from your waist and drags you off

you wave a sheepish goodbye to the actor, and Johnny waves back, shooting you a wink

Tomas growls and drags you to the nearest closet he can find, too impatient to go back to your bedroom and take care of the problem

as soon as he shoves you both in the closet, he shoves his face into yours and kisses you while pressing you into the door

you whine into his mouth at the sudden onslaught of affection and aggression, and you yelp as he shoves a hand down your pants and rubs at your puffy clit

he trails his kisses down your neck, sucking a hickey into your neck to claim you as his and no pompous actor is going to flirt with what was his

you ask him why he dragged you into a closet all of a sudden through breathless pants, and he mumbles in between kisses to your neck that he needed to get you away from that insufferable actor

you laugh at his reaction, but it quickly dissolves into a moan when Tomas’s fingers press into your clit roughly

he smiles against your skin at your reaction and pulls away from you to take off your shirt and your pants

he’s immediately back on you, hand in your panties as he runs his fingers through your slick folds before sliding his thick fingers into your needy cunt

his other hand holds onto your waist, digging his fingertips into your waist, and he hopes it’ll leave bruises

you’re whining into the assassin’s mouth as you grind into his fingers, desperate for more

Tomas presses his tongue into yours and grinds his palm into your sensitive clit, and your muffled whines shoot straight through his ears and to his hardening cock

he curls his fingers into your sweet spot, and your hips jerk forward as he continues to dig his fingers into you

your eyes squeeze shut as you cum on Tomas’s fingers, and the assassin pulls away from your sweet lips to admire how you look

you lips are swollen and sore, and there’s a glazed look to your eyes as you stare up into Tomas’s eyes, waiting for his next move

Tomas hums and drops down to his knees, spreading your legs with his hand before hooking one of them over his shoulder for better access to your pussy

your hand grips onto Tomas’s hair, and the assassin kisses the insides of your thighs before pressing his tongue flat against your clothes clit

you bite your lip to muffle your noises, and Tomas nips at your thigh, telling you to be as loud as you want to, he’s going to remind you why you’re with him in the first place

you let out loud whines and whimpers, face warm as Tomas laps at your pussy through your panties, thoroughly soaking the material

finally, Tomas pulls your panties to the side and grinds his nose into your clit as he laps at your pussy

he fucks you on his tongue as his hands squeeze and knead your plush thighs, and you throw your head back onto the door and grind your face into him

your legs twitch around his head, and Tomas moves up to suck on your clit

it sends you over the edge, and your cum soaks Tomas’s face

he happily licks up your sweetness, moaning at the taste as he gets back up to kiss you dumb

you moan into his mouth, and Tomas scrambles to take his dick out of his pants

he moves your panties to the side again, sliding his dick between your folds

you whimper, asking him to please fuck you, you need it, please

he chuckles and tells you to beg for it, say that you belong to him and no one else,  and admires the way tears well up in your eyes and your face warms at the command

the tip of his dick catches on your clit, and you whine and give in

you tell him to please please fuck you, that you only belong to him, that he’s the only one who can make you feel so good, he’s the only one who can touch you, fuck you, love you

Tomas groans at the last comment and sinks into your wet pussy, and you clench down on his dick and moan

he sets a hard pace, hips slamming into yours as his fingers find your oversensitive clit and rub hard fast circles into it

his other hand grips onto your hips desperately, and he’s kissing you like his life depends on it

when he feels you clench down on his pussy and sees your eyes squeezing shut, he doubles his efforts, wet slaps mixing with the sound of both of your moans

he mumbles i love you over and over again in your ear, and the both of you whine as you both cum

he fucks the both of you through it, pumping you full of his seed

the both of you kiss lazily after that, his dick softening inside of your pussy, and he eventually pulls out to both of your displeasure

he watches his cum drip out of your pussy and stuffs it back in with his fingers, causing you to moan at the stimulation, before sliding your panties back in place

you get dressed, and he gives you one last kiss, admiring the slight sheen of sweat on your face and the dark hickeys in your neck, before you both leave the closet

as you walk back out of the closet, a slight awkwardness to your step and Tomas’s cum leaking out of your pussy, Tomas knows that Johnny could never compare

[two-white-butterflies]

therese | d. targaryen

Description: You are famous for acting in films that gain critical acclaim, but much of your life remains secret. In where, your private life becomes public. Pairing: millionaire!daemon targaryen/lowkey-actress!reader Tags: established relationship.

Daemon wasn't the kind of person who'd stay secret about something he was proud about. He wanted to scream your name into the crowds - without any fear of their judgement. He was proud, and you were the opposite of that.

"Which one do you want, baby?" he asked while pointing at the two bags held by the sales associate. One was black, and the other one was white. They were the same brand - the same hardware and everything, but in your eyes they were different from each other.

"You don't have to do this babe," you lean your head on his shoulder. He presses a kiss on your forehead, smiling proudly as you continued inspecting the items in the shop. "It's not everyday that my girlfriend is nominated for an Oscar," he boasted while placing a pair of sunglasses on the sales associate's hands. "- you've been ranting about this bag for weeks. I'm buying it for you, princess." he asserted.

"I'll take the black one," you smiled, entwining your hands together as you continued strolling down the store.

He was extra when it came to everything. You'd tell him that you wanted a smoothie and he'll bring you all the flavors - you'd tell him that you were nominated for an academy award and he'd rent out the entire mall. It was impressive to see the lengths of what his money could provide, but it was more impressive to see his efforts.

"I'm so proud of you," he whispered, keeping his arms around your waist. "Thank you for doing this, babe." your smile deepened. He spots another store in his periphery - and he wastes no time in leading you inside.

"- and the winner is therese!" the hosts announce your stage name, and the tears began flowing out of your eyes.

You finally made it!

Your manager presses a kiss to your cheek, before helping you gather your gowns and walk to the stage. The hosts give you the award - muttering a few words of congratulations.

You walk up the podium, staring at the faces of your peers. A decade ago, you were the one watching them on the screen - and now you were one of them.

You stare at the camera, with tears still flowing down your eyes. "Daemon, baby we did it!" was the first thing you said, and the crowd erupts into a second round of cheers.

"I want to thank everyone especially the academy, my co-workers, the directors, the writers and the producers. I couldn't have done it without you." you thanked, wiping the tears away from your eyes using a small handkerchief.

"I want to thank all of my fans for supporting me. I'm so sorry, I didn't prepare a speech because I thought Meryl Streep would win. I'm just really glad to be among these women today." you smiled, knowing that he was watching you from the screen.

theresesupporter NAUR cuz who tf is Damon?

MicheleTheMonsterFromHell not ya'll acting shocked that therese has a bf, we didn't even know her real name until last year 💀

SullyFarts_8: IMAGINE SHE'S MARRIED WITH KIDS - MicheleTheMonsterFromHell: I wouldn't be surprised 💀

Therese_Ismy.mommydom My #1 suspect as therese's bf

BenjaminButtons_11: OR Daemon Targaryen - Therese_Ismy.mommydom: Who?? - BenjaminButtons_11: The guy who basically owns half of the trade industry 💀 he's famous in europe/south america cuz he acted in that one telenovela as a teen - Therese_Ismy.mommydom: nty i think it's matt damon 😁

Daemon settles down beside you with a pout on his face. "What's wrong?" you ask while editing his face on the body of a Pokemon. "Everyone thinks that you're dating Matt Damon," he huffs while browsing through his Ipad Air.

A loud laugh escapes your mouth.

"#DamonandTherese, #ThereseDamon," he continued reading the trending hashtags on Twitter. "- you should've said my full name." he pouted, and you pressed a soft kiss on his cheek. "Daemon Targaryen, I love you." you hum, placing your phone on the table and wrapping both of your arms around him.

thereseupdates: Matt Damon and Therese in 'Adjustment Bureau'.

TygaTyger: 💀 I THOUGHT IT WAS A JOKE

therese: 💜

Missusssususus: I don't think it's a joke anymore, also THERESE HAS AN INSTA!! WAR IS OVER

therese: my first instagram post ! (first pic: after the haircut/vacation) (second pic: before the haircut/pre-vacation) taken by @helaenas_photography

234,890 comments 5,782,105 likes

DaemonTargaryen: Now, about that Matt Damon guy...🧐

thereseupdates: OMG OMG OMG OMG OMG OMG OGM

puppygogo "Daemon Targaryen is currently worth $900 Million" CHILEE mom get the bag 💅🏻

part two

[zaynsxsoul]

Drivers Seat | Eddie Munson x fem!reader

summary: Eddie teaches you how to drive on his lap, until things get a little bit out of hand.

warnings: Smut +18 mdni, mild arguing?, fluff, pet names, teasing, fingering, curse words, sex in a semi public area, getting caught (kind of, not really), established relationship, slightly mean!eddie more guided towards foreplay teasing.

word count: 4k

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚

When the soft season of spring tints the cheerful afternoon of yellow, green and pink shades perfectly over Hawkins, you believe the sublime effort of influence might work a little better.

There’s something in the warm sunset air that might make you believe the hopes are higher than you expect. Even for Eddie, an actively reluctant car sharer.

It’s not been long since the last time he —by choice— offered his van for ‘the wonderful works of teaching by Eddie Munson’. In his words exactly.

Until the wonderful works of teaching turned into the disastrous downfall of patience. 

It’s not that you hadn’t done a good job. You did, and he’s proud of you for it, he trusts you. How could he not? Being a perfectionist yourself made it a simple process, a flawless one actually. So, that’s why he would never dare to underestimate the effort you’ve put into learning.

But besides the fact that he was afraid of teaching you some of his wrecked driving traditions and turning it into a negative experience, there’s this specific thorny memory that’s made him a little bit reluctant nonetheless.

Nothing too deep but a certain flashback of your reverse day practice lesson. Everytime he goes back to that specific memory, you’re holding on to the steering wheel for your dear life, a screeching sound produced by the wheels, the van shooting backwards and your eyes closed shut accompanied by a loud scream.

And you’re sure that If it weren't for him, who expertly pulled the emergency brake and pushed away your almost glued leg from the accelerator, a certain house on the trailer park would’ve been in ruins by now.

Needless to say, you haven’t tried again ever since.

“Please, please, please!” The miracle that you craved to turn into reality is represented by the imploration of your voice.

All Eddie can do is laugh. An honest chuckle.

He’s enjoying it overall. Because you look pretty like this, fingers intertwined creating a praying sign, pouty lip and big puppy eyes vandalizing him from the passenger’s seat.

Just as he’s pulling over at Forest Hills Trailer Park, and his own place looks like it’s being acclaimed by cinematic pastel colors behind the tall slender trees, your attempt at convincing him seems more and more impossible to decline.

“I promise, I'll try my best. No laughing this time!” His hand movements are quick and expert, even with such a simple maneuver like turning off the engine and pulling the hand brake.

Your eyes, curious and observant, avert to this movement. Hoping that it sinks in and sticks when you yourself get to try it. 

The great —or maybe not so great for him— part of being his copilot, is to learn some tips and tricks that will eventually make the process easier for you.

Pretty dimples peek on the sides of his cheeks and gift you a toothy grin. Part of it has turned into a game. So his hand tries to soothe away your pouty lip by brushing your hair behind your ears with his ringed fingers before pulling you closer by the neck until his lips get to peck your forehead.

“No way, pup” He nods, hair moving along with the movement while simultaneously reaching out for the key inside the keyhole. 

Your mouth opens in disbelief, and he shrugs his shoulders mirroring your mouth gesture before speaking.

 “You almost crashed last time, remember? If Chief Powell sends you to a detention center for reckless driving, I swear to God—“

“But…” 

And he hates it. Or more like, loves to hate it. There’s always this silly little thing you do in which somehow your eyes turn him into complete mush. A pout follows,  and sooner than later he is agreeing to everything.

Best part comes next when that pouty lip is replaced by a cheeky grin that follows to praise him with lovely thankful pecks. 

“Do you…? Not remember the last time we tried?” And then comes the resistance part. In which he desperately tries to be rigid. 

Anything to avoid getting caught under that well known spell of yours.

Your hand plays with a shorter strand of his hair that falls perfectly right above the shoulder blade. He avoids a shiver.

“And I did so good, didn’t I?” Your arms are holding him now, cheek pressed against the curve of his bicep. Fingers curling the sides of his waist.

“I mean, I think you did, but go ask the Johnson’s poor trailer back there” 

He’s not attempting to be mean, it’s actually a lighthearted mockery. And he reassures it with a gentle caress directed to your arm.

He worries the comment might’ve upset you. Until your giggly laugh gives the comfort that it wasn’t too much. When that has settled him, he gets out of the van and opens the passenger door for you.

“M,kay, let’s get inside, I'm starving.” He waits for the usual jump you do every time you get down his van. 

One that never comes.

To leverage his hand that’s holding the door, you take the opportunity to unclip your belt and crawl over to the driver's seat. And although his entangled hand tries to capture your ankle, you’re already settled in front of the steering wheel. 

And he might melt right there when you’re smiling like that. Full display of two bright pearly white rows that might shine brighter than any star he’s ever seen or imagined before.

 His hand theatrically lets go of the door handle and plops against his hip. You love the way his husky laugh sounds when he drops his head to his feet and then his eyes look right back at you. Because it most certainly gives away the pure feeling of surrender.

And although he’s already defeated, the teasing always sits right.

“Cute, but you’re not going anywhere without these,” He flashes you the keys that dangle from his ring finger. “Just give up already!” His sarcasm is adorned by a chuckle.

“Oh come on Eds! I made a mistake once!” Your frown is genuine. 

He understands then that the roots of loving to tease you, might come from how adorable you look like that. 

“More like crashed a trailer” He corrects before closing the door shut and switching sides.

“Once” You add optimistically when he's opened the driver's seat door for you. “you’re mean” you say, jumping off the van.

Always sweet, he grabs your face from the sides and pecks your lips, incarcerating the lower plump skin playfully between his front teeth before pulling away and jumping up the van again.

“No I’m not” He blinks expectantly. Lovingly. “So? What are you waiting for? Get in, trouble” And when his hand pats his own thigh before extending it to assist you, excitement strikes in again.

“You mean like, to sit on your lap?” 

“Yeah, I'm um, manipulating the brake and accelerator, that’s the only condition.” 

When his hand begins to drop, you grab it. He closes the door giving you time to adjust yourself on both of his thighs. 

Since the steering wheels rest significantly lower than usual in front of you, he tries to adjust the seat, aiming to find the most comfortable working angle specially for you.

“You’re bossy” And when you say that, his eyebrow is defying. “I’m kidding!”

“You better be” His lips melt against your puckering gesture. “Alright, now pay attention. Just like we practiced last time, m’kay? Look at my foot on the break, now turn the key.” His indications are simple, and his endearing caresses on the sides of your hips that play with the loops of your jeans are even more than reassuring. “Then gear, put it in drive, and release the hand brake.” When you do, he applauds. “Well done, pretty”

Once he releases the break, you adjust the steering wheel, and before noticing it, you’re driving the van around the streets that surround the trailer park.

Pink orangish colors kiss the gray pavement that lies ahead of you. It 's soothing.

And he would be lying if he said your smile isn’t mesmerizing like this. Because it mirrors the happiness that lingers deep down in your heart. It’s pure undeniable satisfaction. And for Eddie to know that he helped build that, is rewarding.

His praises feel heavenly in your ear. The faint caress of the tip of his nose against your neck along the soft weight of his chin over your shoulder, is soft and tender.

His hands wrapped around your waist might as well work as a safety belt, buckling you up near his chest that vibrates when he’s humming mellowly whatever rock song shuffles on the radio station. 

And although you can feel his foot below your calf controlling the pedal, the pride that you feel of yourself and what you’ve accomplished so far, can be seen just by the look on your face.  

And he feels that way too. Praising prouder than ever.

 “You’re doing so good baby” Your silent and concentrated smile followed by his voice again. “You know I was just messing with you, right? About the whole, crashing the house and wrecking stuff.”

“I know you were” Your voice is reassuring on his guilt, although it might sound quite more serious than you wanted it to out of concentration. 

“Good, just wanted to make it clear” Eddie’s curious hand travels to the soft warmth of your inner thigh, stern firm fingers moving in circles on that doughy skin.

And it’s embarrassing to like it as much as you do. Even when your lip is tucked under your teeth and your back has arched against his chest.

“Stop it.” You laugh, quickly moving his hand away.

And you love the well known mischievous giggle’s that belongs to Eddie, because you know he’ll eventually find his way back to the same vulnerable spot. 

But as for now, his hand decides to stay still, play a little game to enjoy the glorious feeling that he adores when your body responds to his approach. 

The fingertips that belong to his left hand draw invisible, vague circles on your thigh, right above your knee. The left arm decides to stay closer, and travels through the bristling skin of your lower back all the way to your right shoulder blade. 

And it stays there, vehemently happy, until the index finger takes a leap and pulls down the fabric of your shirt. It uncovers part of the gentle skin of the back of your shoulder, adorned by a black laced bra. 

“Cute,” His quieter tone is accompanied by warm lips that brush against the naked area. 

The warmth on them makes your breath grow heavy and nails to dig onto the hard material of the steering wheel. It makes your belly flutter and a warm pit of fire grows there too. Even more when his lips ghost just very slightly in a linear motion, barely wetting your skin. 

Easy goosebumps grow and touch his lips when you get to feel, right through the gruffy jean fabric that separates your bodies, the way his bulge protrudes longingly. Hungrily. It’s expectant for the hope of a magic trick in which the barrier is suddenly eliminated. 

“Fuck!” You yelp, and his hand quickly takes hold of the wheel and part of your hand pulling away from a badly placed metal trash bin that covers a road bump.

His foot presses the brake pedal, the car stops with a soft thump. The remains of a sunset are gone. Nothing other than a dark deserted road ahead of you and an almost crashed bin. 

There’s back the look of agony in your face and the red cheeks that give it in. You’re embarrassed. But just when panic is near, he laughs and it choruses along the faint sound of music that still plays. 

And for as much as you thought it would be awkward, it’s most definitely not. He makes it feel safe.  

“I’m sorry” You say. 

He hates to see you this embarrassed. Even more when it was his fault. 

“If you don’t want me to touch you just say it” And his ironic comment makes it all better. “You okay? It was my fault, sorry”

“I’m okay” You nod, smiling, shifting in his lap. He groans. “Sorry. Did I hurt you?”

“No, no.” He reassures quietly. “Let’s just head back, alright? it’s already dark, don’t wanna risk Chief finding us out here” His voice is raspy, breathy, lower. And you know what he’s up to. “I’ll adjust the wheel”

“Who said I wanted to leave?” The echo of your voice makes him dizzy.

And when your hands move his palm away from the steering wheel and inside your shirt, he’s a complete goner. 

Your body feels nice over his lap. Cold curious fingers squish your tits. And you move again, teasing his aching cock. 

Your cunt is warm, even through your white shorts. And he could swear the beating of his heart is so loud on his eardrum that it could be heard from miles away.

His eyes roll to the back of his skull, the feeling too good to be handled. 

“Drive, Y/N.” You don’t. 

And when you move again, his flustered face hides on the crook of your neck. For as much as he tries to hide the lust that reciprocates and praises your movement, he absolutely can’t. 

“Fuck” He drags the word, both hands that seemed irresponsive until now, grab your hips. There’s a juxtaposition between trying to stop you, and pressing you down onto his needy bulge. 

He has always adored having you on his lap. It doesn’t matter in which particular way or position. There’s something about just having you there in general. It might be the feeling of the warmth of your body so near to him, the way your scent is more perceivable from there, or perhaps the intimate unique closeness that your cunt gives him from this position. Either way, it drives him insane.

The thought of interrupting the golden feeling of ecstatic sensations that seem to concentrate on the contra-producing touch, only makes him even more eager. As eager as you had been ever since he patted his lap a long time ago inviting you in. 

“Is that good?” You ask, drowned in an abyss. 

From this position, in which you’re a little higher than him, he gets to notice the radiance in your cheeks, the lively one, the pure bliss that emanates from the warmth of your exhilarating body. 

And when you’re like this, accompanied by ecstasy, his head bends with a dizzy movement forward. The way you straddle his lap with such gentleness and careful fondness makes his poor aching throat produce a loud groan. 

He might be obsessed with the way your back leans against his chest, the way your ass traces vaguely distracted circles on his clothed cock, your head falling backwards supported by his shoulder, your lips pecking his temple, the way his lustful bulge grows under your movement. 

And all of the sudden he’s aiming to touch your open and inviting mouth. It’s a movement that woes and praises you in every way that he’s able to. In a way you deserve to be praised.

There’s this wolfish grin he aces every time, something that’s very much his. But this time you’re the porter of the smile, complimenting the desire he had inflicted upon you, mirroring what he owned. 

His arms around you, rest a just centimeters below your chest. 

“Shit, If you don’t stop right, now I swear I’m gonna—” His mutter is low, coming out like a growl more so. 

And you say as he asks, moving away, at least for a few seconds. His frown turns into a grin when you’re facing him now. And although the night has already sinked in, darkness secluding the empty streets, you can still see his brown and shiny desire filled eyes that do nothing more than stare down at you, begging for closeness. 

He shivers when your tongue debuts the first waltz behind the soft tender spot behind his earlobe, sloppy kisses belittling his sensitive skin. That special spot you know so well. Warm tongue plays and draws unperceivable figures, as the intoxicating taste of his skin crawls down to your taste buds. 

A mix of bergamot cologne, traces of cigarette smoke and the smell of his honey shampoo scent that lingers to the smell of his own fragrance is what it takes to drive you to the verge of madness.

“You look so good” He half grins when you whisper the compliment in between kisses, until your teeth are biting his earlobe. 

His way to thank you, is to caress the naked skin of your thighs. Speechless, too deep down the rabbit hole.

“Why so quiet? Weren’t you the one trying to make me fail my lesson, getting all handsy on me?” Your playful voice is far away from being offensive. 

Your hand takes a short trip down to his clothed painful cock, until it’s cupping it, with vague movements that follow an up and down motion. 

Sneaky whispers let him be aware of how amazing it would be to taste the salty drips of cum down your desirably bruisable throat.

And he moans. Loudly. Clearly. Back rolling against the old used leather seat.

 Until he thumps the seat all the way to the back, only to be allowed to pin you against the van window. Loving the devilish smile that embellishes your lips once the rings on his fingers make you shiver under his touch. 

“The fuck do you think you’re doing, huh?” His lips tickle your own when he’s brushing them with every word he breathes out. “Why are you being such a tease?”

Your shrug incites another question. “Do you enjoy making me suffer? Cause’ it's working, you little brat” His tone is serious, but his mellow chesty chuckle makes it far away from being a real scolding.

“I’m not sorry” From this short distance, his hair tickles your nose. And although he still has you sideways on his lap, he manages to pull you closer. 

“You better not be” He murmurs expectantly. 

His hand manages to take off your shirt. And when your upper body is free from coverups, he praises the black bra he complimented earlier. “Wearing this for me?” You nod. 

He’s found himself around teasing too. Licking the spot between your jaw and ear, right after taking a handful of the squishy skin that belongs to your —already free— tits.

“Gimme a kiss” You beg. You don’t have to, but still do.

While obeying the first plead, his hand fidgets around the mushy skin of your lower belly and the zipper of your jean shorts. Pointer finger traces soft movements around your clothed cunt. Your whimpers work like fuel on him. 

“Do you want this?” His lips peck your jawline tenderly. one. two. three. four times in a row. until it turns into one too many times to keep count. You nod. “Say it” Two fingers toy with the crease between your cunt and your inner thigh. “I think you deserve a reward, don’t you think?” 

He looks beautiful under the moonlight that creeps through the windshield window. 

“I need you. I really do” You beg in his mouth, without a stutter, but deep down lies the feeling of embarrassment after agreeing. 

Which is short, because it's followed by the pure excitement of the yearning feeling of release. 

“Words, baby. What do you need?” His teasing is physically hurtful. And it tantalizes your ear.

“I need you to fuck me” The last two words being softer than the rest. The red in your cheeks is overwhelmingly sweet.

And he’s tense by the mere needy tone in your voice. Mind getting foggy of lust at the thought of giving you what you so desperately seem and feel to need.

“As you please” 

Your jaw drops down to a tense ‘o’ when his hand slithers your shorts down to your ankle and they get lost somewhere near the passenger sit. And there it is, belonging to him again as it always has, the wolfish grin enriched by an attractive chuckle. 

He adores the feeling of your dripping swollen cunt that hugs his thigh, as much as you dote the harsh texture of the warm ruined fabric grazing you. The friction feels illicit, almost unreal. 

His eyes welcome every single reaction and contortion your face does. The way you look almost as if you were about to burst down into tears. 

“Look at you, all ready for me” His whispers only incite more sticky fluids to run down from your warm middle and create a puddle on his jeans, one that you’re embarrassed of. Although he couldn’t care less of them being ruined. Like, at all.

He might actually thank you for it.

“I’ll make you feel so good, whole Hawkins will be able to hear ya’.” And he sounds different, his eager tone is captivating. 

His pointer and middle finger tap twice your closed mouth  “Open?” And you do. The warmth of your tongue sucks them in. And it makes him salivate in bliss.

Because in between the cloudy fog on his mind, he pictures how pretty your mouth would look wrapped around his twitching creaming cock. 

His ringed hand lowers leaving a steamy line of spit down your chest, until his fingers stay in the weak crease between your legs and pubic bone. 

“Fucking shit” He groans enthusiastically when you twitch under his touch. 

Your breathy cursing works wonders on him, even more when his fingers toy around that area, never touching the spot that really aches for him.  

“Stop with the teasing” There’s something about your tone that makes him wobbly. 

That same hand grabs the sides of your face and pulls in for a kiss. You mourn his touch until he drags the dripping fingers around the curve of your lips. 

“Careful with the attitude” 

Expert fingers that know exactly what you need, finally put you out of that misery. And moves away the poor sticky underwear fabric. 

After collecting some of the sticky mess, he flexes two fingers until they’re lost in between the chaos you’ve got hiding down there. Your breathy whimper thanks him.

Cunt soft, warm and swollen, throbbing against his thigh. He loves every second of it, probably as much as you do. Probably more than you do. 

The proximity is such, that in any second you might melt into one. Even much so that you can feel how his lips mimic the arrival of a smile. And you mewl. Loving his proximity, wishing for more. Not oblivious to detect the ecstasy he experiences by observing how you twitch under his touch. 

You whine and he tries to be as careful as he can when he’s eloquently drawing circles around the folds of your swollen cunt, just right next to your clit. Not touching the pearly bud directly. 

He knows that it can lead to overstimulation, and it might hurt you. It has happened before, back when he was freshly understanding the way in which your body reacts.

He adjusts you until you’re comfortably placed over his cock. And he makes up for any second that you missed his touch. Lips meet your naked shoulder, kissing and sucking out of pure love and adoration. Hips rolling in an unrequited movement. 

Your spongy walls welcome his fingers, and just as he’s menacing to pull away, you suck him right in again.

“Eds, I need to-”

 You don’t have to tell him. He knows. He’s known for a while. Ever since you began to reciprocate his distracted humps and joined his panting. He knows even while being lost in his own euphoria produced by your movements that do give him some sort of relief.

“Do it, go ahead” His entranced voice motivates you “I know it feels good, you’re so tight around my fingers” 

The well known blissful feeling builds up in your lower belly, expert fingers move in and out at a deliciously illegal pace. It burns, in the best way possible, the contractions hug his skin, and he kisses your neck lovingly. It never seems to be enough closeness “Come on babe, let go.” He creases, flexes and points his fingers towards that gummy spot that palpitates heatedly “You’re so warm, I can’t wait to—“

Your chants, squeals, and contortions only advertise the approximation of the desirable break through that comes like a heat wave. Your legs fidget above his palpitating lap, a blank delight wraps your head around. And your orgasm coats beautifully three fingers that are still inside of you. 

He loves every second of it. Hips still rolling hungrily below you. And his poor raspy voice mumbles things you can’t understand. His fingers seem to explore some more, before his body shivers under yours and he leans forward finally letting go a long restrained groan, one that longed to be released.

“Son of a bitch” Strings of his own, stain his jeans. You can feel it. A merciful whimper breaths on the back of your skull until his release is there too.

The cozy silence afterwards is soothing somehow. The music works again as a companion. And when you’ve settled, his fingers slide out of you gently, a hot mess pools out and slides from your inner thighs down to his lap. 

He caresses your lips, and he’s smiling all of the sudden. A smile that quite reminds you of what he looks like when he’s drunk. “Love you” 

“I love you, teddie” You mutter back.

There’s something about the way he cleans your thighs so lovingly, with an admirable gentle touch, that makes you feel gooey and dizzy inside. It’s moments like these when he’s so vulnerably real, so bluntly himself, that remind you how much you truly love him. 

He kisses you tenderly, he yearns to stay there forever. And he would’ve if it weren’t for a flashlight that creeps through the window, one so bright that almost blinds you. 

Light that's accompanied by the not so happy face of Chief Powell, who seems like he hasn’t quite made up what’s going on inside.

That’s when you’re thankful for Eddie's tinted windows.

You leap from his lap onto the cold passenger seat, and dress in a record time duration, terrified. Wondering until now why you were completely undressed and he wasn't.

But he 's laughing. Straight up laughing. Calmly swiping the sweat off of his forehead and your sticky pools from the sides of his mouth and jeans. He's so giggly you have to pinch him, he reacts with an exaggerated ‘ow!’ before rolling down his window at the same time he moves hair out of his face.

The night breeze is freezing, but not as much as Chief Powells facial expression. Your heart beats fast, and the only thing you can do is to pray for him not to notice the obvious smell of sex and every other clue that calls you out.

Eddie’s hand waves innocently, kindly. And his smile is so stupidly real, it might’ve fooled the man.

“I would really like to know what you kids are doing parked in the middle of a deserted road at twelve in the morning” Eddie’s boyish laughter is cocky when he looks at you, but it doesn’t last too long when without any words needed your eyes say ‘shut it’.

“Uh, learning how to drive.” He says. “I mean her, not me” He points at you. He 's believable. “Streets are not crowded at this time, so it was the perfect opportunity” 

Powell nods. Not because he believes you entirely. He doesn’t. But he’s also tired and just wants to go home without making a fuss about it.

“U-Huh, well I hope you’re not up to trouble again boy, don’t wanna have another talk with your uncle, you hear me?” The man almost pleads to Eddie, his hand pats his shoulder.

“No no, not at all. We’re done, right?” They’re both now looking at you. And your eyes widen before you nod, subtly squeezing Eddie’s arm.

The man agrees, and before leaving, he gives a short lecture of not staying too long on deserted roads since it could get dangerous. He wraps up the conversation by waving goodbye.

When he’s gone, Eddie rolls the window back up.

And he’s laughing again. Clapping his hands before grabbing the sides of your face and shaking it back and forth playfully. You want him to stay this happy forever.

“Oh my God” You’re laughing too, although it’s more out of nerves than raw fun. “Do you think he…He didn’t-?” 

“Maybe he heard how good I made you feel.”

“You’re being cocky”

“And you like it, don'tcha?” You slap his thigh, it’s still wet. 

“No, no, no, don’t get all shy on me now.” 

And again, like a disgustingly cheesy magnet that you love, he’s pulling you closer. Like he can’t seem to get enough closeness. Like you can’t be away for too long because it’s painful. 

And maybe it is.

“Remember what I said, right? I’ll fuck you so good everyone will be able to hear you” 

And although you shiver excitedly at his vulgar whisper shared by the thought that invigorates every pore in your body, he’s still got you laughing silly again with the simpleness of his lip brushing yours.

“Cocky” You purr. He smiles.

“Shut up”

He turns the key. And when he’s driving again, he wonders if that beaming grin will ever leave him tonight. 

Hating the distance, you hug him again.

 And his free arm welcomes you happily. Heart burns from craving, guided by that specific well known gut churning feeling;

 Love.

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚

[intoxicatingimmediacy]

Where Have You Seen Loki Season 2's X-5 Actor Before?

This post contains spoilers for the season premiere of "Loki."

"Loki" is back this week, and along with the return of Norse trickster god Loki (Tom Hiddleston), agent Mobius (Owen Wilson), and the rest of the Time Variance Authority, the show's premiere also sees the introduction of a few new key characters. Among them? Ke Huy Quan's helpful, tech-savvy Ouroboros (or O.B.) and X-5, a mysterious new TVA agent played by Rafael Casal. And it's the latter who is particularly intriguing.

So far, we haven't seen X-5 do much besides question whether jet skis are part of the sacred timeline, but the character already seems to be an agitating force within the organization. He's also quite possibly poised to become a recognizable Marvel villain. After all, a featurette for the second season had a couple bits of footage from behind the scenes that showed him in a TVA jumpsuit, as if he was being held prisoner. So that should be interesting to watch play out. But there's more.

As /Film's Sandy Schaefer pointed out back in July, the trailer for "Loki" includes a poster for a movie called "Zaniac!" which fans have tied to Casal's character via leaks and speculation. Zaniac is a noteworthy character in Marvel Comics, though he bears little resemblance to X-5. The character was an evil entity that possessed the man who would become Jack the Ripper, and later took over slasher actor Brad Wolfe.

Ahead of the show's premiere, Casal has been credited by several outlets as Brad Wolfe, not X-5, so it seems likely that he could play out some form of the Zaniac plot this season. Regardless of Casal's true role in the show, though, he's an excellent multi-hyphenate artist whose past works deserve attention.

If X-5 looks familiar, it's likely you recognize Casal from "Blindspotting," a fantastic 2018 musical comedy-drama that he co-wrote with longtime creative partner Daveed Diggs (yes, of "Hamilton" fame). "Blindspotting" was a labor of love for Casal and Diggs, who also produced the film about two best friends living in Oakland, California whose lives are disrupted by the broken policing system. As serious as that sounds, "Blindspotting" is also laugh-out-loud funny, and Casal is a totally charming standout as hot-headed Miles.

The performer reprised the role for Starz's "Blindspotting" TV show, which ran for two seasons and was recently canceled. A criminally underseen hidden gem of a series, "Blindspotting" takes place after the film and puts the focus on Miles' girlfriend, Ashley Rose (Jasmine Cephas Jones), as she parents the pair's young mixed-race son in a racist world, all while Miles is behind bars. Despite his character's incarceration, Casal still appears in the show frequently and his hilarious, soulful character is a fan favorite. If you're looking for a thoughtful, entertaining, dynamic watch – or just want to see what Casal's made of – you can't do much better than either iteration of "Blindspotting."

The performer has also made a name for himself in other projects, including several collaborations with Diggs. A poet and rapper in addition to his acting creds, Casal appeared on three seasons of "Def Poetry Jam" on HBO, released a mixtape with Diggs in 2010, and contributed to the soundtracks for "Blindspotting," including in the catchy (and foulmouthed, fair warning) song "Easy Come, Easy Go." He reunited with Diggs in the acclaimed 2020 miniseries "The Good Lord Bird," a wild historical fiction series led by a fiery Ethan Hawke. Casal and Diggs even started a public theater project called Bars Medley, which remixed classic literature into musical performances.

Other on-screen works of Casal's include a supporting role in the 2019 Hugh Jackman flick "Bad Education" (he played the love interest of Jackman's closeted character) and a multi-episode turn in the "Are You Afraid of the Dark?" revival. Casal played a ringmaster named Mr. Tophat in the reboot of the classic, kid-friendly horror series. Next up, Casal is appearing in "Wildcat," a biography of Southern Gothic author Flannery O'Connor that's directed and co-written by Hawke. The X-5 actor plays a character in one of O'Connor's short stories in the movie, which premiered at Telluride but hasn't been released to the public yet.

Whether X-5 is a frustrated TVA employee, a secret evil entity, a movie actor, or something else entirely, it's exciting to see an artist as talented and versatile as Casal take the stage in a major Marvel series. You can catch his next moves on Disney+, where new episodes of "Loki" stream Thursdays at 9pm ET.

[hopeswriting]

Hi I saw your post on Skull and tv series about famous people and I raise you: The public have that sort of relationship to Skull's career as with many of the "acclaimed geniuses" usually the artsy ones aka. everyone knows him but nobody thinks they "understand his true depth", "he was very bright and loud but in private really he was actually sooo mysterious and it was impossible to tell what actually went on in his head when he spoke so much but rarely anything of substance about himself", "he was everyone's friend, but I always wondered if he returned the feeling, he always acted that way around everyone after all" etc. Someone is quoted talking about how he'd always laugh things off to hide what he really meant. It goes on.

BUT here is the KICKER: Skull isn't. He has his own depth of course, but all of this post-mortem rose tinted "mystery" is that he was young and fearless and cheerful and genuinely a bit dumb and hypocritical and very bad at elaborating on the things he said. And best part: now he will never live it down around the arcobaleno and this time it's not even him who was talking himself up in ridiculous ways. (Actually it'd be kinda funny too if it made some canon character actually believe it and look at him differently)

hi nonny, thank you for the ask! [post referenced]

nooo not the unseen depth zerfghfgc!!!! not the MYSTERIOUSNESS!!!! 😭🤣😭🤣😭🤣 and yeah you bet he ISNT nor was he EVER any of that lmfao, nonny i'm losing it over this.

but okay, now let ME raise you this: 1) i know it in my bones tsuna is the one to buy into all of that bullshit, no questions asked. yes, hyper intuition tsuna, the last one who should buy into it and know better, i know, but no, listen. i KNOW he watches that documentary or whatever and goes "omg, i can't believe i misunderstood skull this whole time. i need to apologize to him right now and do better, and also i should stand up for him from now on and help the others realize they've got it all wrong about him too".

and then no one can stop him or make him change his mind. least of all reborn, who's the one trying the hardest to stop him and change his mind. for a yet undetermined reason, but i just know he canNOT stand that new development, it just makes him soo mad.

wait, no, i just figured out why he'd hate everything about this. it's because he knows skull, thank you very much. he's among the few who got through the obnoxious ordeal of bearing his bullshit long enough to know him, and to even become begrudgingly glad he did and fond of him but we're not going to talk about that, but now? he's just supposed to stand there and be told he's only ever seen the surface of skull? that he--he, of all people--couldn't tell he was just seeing the surface of him? over decades of knowing each other? he's just supposed to let people not recognize and acknowledge the arduous and praiseworthy achievement that is him having gotten past skull's terrible first impressions until they became close for what it is?

he's just about foaming at the mouth, and tsuna does not give a single shit about it because, as everyone knows, reborn is skull's number one hater. and then tsuna's undeterred work to, like, rehabilitate skull's image or something, actually WORKS because if hyper intuition tsuna says so then??? surely there's some truth to it at the very least???? and it works even more because skull does NOTHING to clear up the misunderstanding.

which brings us to point 2) shameless little gremlin that he is to his core, skull absolutely finds this the funniest thing and takes FULL advantage of it. like suddenly tsuna & co (the 10th gen/varia/shimon/etc) start to actually pay attention to him whenever he's around, trying to see """through him""", and skull makes sure to always be all like "oooh look at me not talking much à la hibari, i'm sooo mysterious and definitely thinking some deep thoughts and not trying really hard to not burst out laughing". or like, the arco are their usual rough but playful selves with him, and instead of snapping at them with no heat behind it either in a well-rehearsed routine the way he'd usually do, instead he's all like "oooh look at me and my fake laugh à la yamamoto. am i really laughing this off because i don't mind or am i just doing it to hide how it actually hurt me? there's sooo much unseen depth inside me".

and they buy it. go all like "oh shit??? maybe--????". and the arco are losing their shit because 3) okay look. consider this: the arco are the ones miserable over this, and skull is the one not letting them live down the new-found appreciation everyone else but them suddenly has of him. because like, the arco's reaction to this can only go one of two ways: either they find it just as funny as skull and help him pull off the whole "yeah this is actually the real me, you just didn't care to notice it before" act, OR. they just absolutely canNOT stand it. they're so mad about it. they're sooo mad about it. they did NOT unexpectedly survive through a curse alongside skull, only to hear they somehow missed everything about him that would have made him more bearable lmao. especially from people among whom most of them have never spent more than an hour with him. have never even TALKED to him even once. their blood pressure is through the roof while skull is living his best life and does not give a single shit about it. also becomes best friends with tsuna in the process of this whole thing because i say so.

anyway. i couldn't stop laughing while answering this nonny, i love it so much. and idk if you remember this @cloudspark @ravensilversea @juudaimes-true-form, but here's the hilarious sequel of the netflix's skull series au ezrsfgvhfd

[starryknightwrites]

Does anyone else think the Miraculous writers let a few loud minorities impact their writing to the point of stunting it?

*Leak Spoilers Ahead*

I think there's a reason why Season 1 and 2 are more beloved than the rest. The showrunners let their audience get into their heads and they took all the wrong advice- in the last two seasons especially. Maybe I'm reading too much into it, but it's difficult to ignore at this point.

A part of the fandom thinks Marinette is a creepy stalker? Let’s explain that away with an unnecessary but sympathetic backstory we never alluded to before, stretch it out for several episodes and make what used to be comedic teen girl hijinks super traumatic so no one can ever interpret it in bad faith again.

 A part of the fandom thinks Chat Noir is an entitled sexual predator who is a brat to Ladybug? Let’s cut his screen time and make sure he never disagrees with her again (unless he’s under a spell we can blame it on) so that he’s the perfect love interest and no one can ever interpret his normal human reactions in bad faith evermore.

A part of the fandom thinks Adrien is so passive he needs to replaced? Let’s have him apologize for his compassion first method and maybe throw a chair or something to prove himself. In the name of love.

A part of the fandom is harassing us about redeeming Chloe? Let’s make it painfully clear how evil she is in a glorified salt fic so that no one can ever interpret her in good faith again.

When people misunderstand your intentions, you don't scramble to "fix it" and try and make things black and white for easier digestion. You stick to your "problematic" guns, dammit. In trying to be perfect and play to everyone, you appease exactly no one.

I think this is partly an unfortunate side effect of the social media era of television. Showrunners never used to interact this much with fandom. Public forums like Twitter are a double edged sword because nowadays they’re a necessity for marketing, but everyone has access to you on there. Every Tom, Dick and Jane with an opinion and no boundaries can rage at you to their heart’s content at all times of day. And it’s easy for us to say “Well, why didn’t they just walk away/delete Twitter?” but even Tumblr users with 80 followers will lose themselves a bit on a bad anon day. I can only imagine dealing with that hundreds and hundreds of times over while also having the pressure of writing the trajectory of a worldwide acclaimed television show on your shoulders that EVERYONE has an opinion about that they are more than happy to rant at you. I think more of us might crack than we expect. And TA cracked.

People with a following have spoken time and time again about how they were unexpectedly affected severely by public ridicule and toxic parasocial relationships on social media. It’s terrible for anyone’s mental health and I think the Miraculous show runners are no exception. The pressure and the push and pull got to them and I think we’re seeing the results of that here. It’s good that TA is stepping away from the show- at least in part from what I gather- after Season 6 because I don’t think it’s healthy for Miraculous or him if he stays onboard. He’s seeing the show now through a filter of all its criticism, of a hundred random takes, and it just comes across incredibly stunted, unnatural and resentful in his writing. Like walking on eggshells and being bitter about it the entire time.

I understand they want to take input from their audience and feel pressure to write the show "correctly", but sometimes fandom ideas- especially the saltier ones- are worse. Sometimes you should just ignore criticism, no matter how loud and long it’s screamed at you, do your thing and hope for the best. At least you'll reserve your energy and passion that way and someone's going to bitch regardless. Sometimes you should write that salt fic just to get your frustrations out and then delete it.

[rawiriwright]

— BASICS.

Name: Rawiri Wright. Age / D.O.B.: Forty-eight years old, October 8th, 1975. Gender, Pronouns & Sexuality: Cis man, he/him, bisexual. Hometown: Raukokore, New Zealand. Affiliation: Media. Job position: Comedian and Talk Show Host @ NBC. Education: No higher education. He flirted with the idea of university, mostly to appease his parents, but never went through with it. Relationship status: Single. Children: None. Positive traits: Astute, determined, high-spirited, playful, persuasive. Negative traits: Chaotic, self-justifying, defiant, facetious, unpredictable.

SUMMARY: Rawiri is a comedian and the host of a late-night satirical talk show who, over a decade in broadcasting, has managed to offend just about everyone - gangs, law enforcement, the government - by reducing their activities to punchlines. He assumed he was exempt from being targeted, that he wielded some kind of jester's privilege which cancelled out retaliation, but he was mistaken. Catastrophically mistaken. A hit was put out on him five months ago - it speaks volumes about the amount of people he's pissed off that he doesn't even know who orchestrated said hit - where he nearly lost his life. He's been off-air ever since, attempting to recover.

— BIOGRAPHY.

Trigger warnings: assault, violence and mentions of death.

Throughout his career, Rawiri has courted controversy and acclaim in equal measure. As the host of a long-running satirical talk show with a penchant for parodying - and, by extension, provoking - powerful figures, he’s ruffled more than a few feathers with his tongue-firmly-in-cheek humour. Public opinion has always been divided: to some, he’s a breath of fresh air on their TV screen, a man of the people who cheerfully defies formidable entities and mines levity from the horrors of the city. His naysayers are more cynical of his intentions, viewing him as an insufferable attention-seeker who would say or do anything for publicity. They'd argue his on-air antics don’t stem from a heartfelt desire to make people laugh themselves into momentarily forgetting their troubles, but because he knows controversy increases viewership. He's a hero or a con-artist, depending on who you ask.

The only time his supporters and his critics seemed to be in agreement was five months ago, when reports broke regarding an attempt on Rawiri's life. It says a lot about a person if, upon learning someone tried to murder them, the universal response is not disbelief that it happened, only disbelief it didn't happen sooner.

Nobody was surprised, it seemed, other than Rawiri himself. It sounds preposterous but, prior to the attack, he'd never once paused to consider the target he'd put on himself. Call it arrogance. Call it naivety. Threats had been delivered in the past, but he'd treated them with the same levity as the rest of his life, under the assumption that everyone in the public eye fell prey to empty ones. It didn't have to mean anything.

Did he take things too far sometimes? Of course. Did he think it justified being beaten within an inch of his life by an unknown assailant?

That's a question he's still grappling with: whether or not he deserved it. Nobody ever wants to believe they're responsible for their own suffering, but what if?

What if?

Either way, he should be dead. Sometimes he thinks he'd rather be. It's impossible to reconcile who he is now with who he was prior to his near-demise. On the outside he's determined to appear as cheerful as ever, but there's telltale signs of a rattled man if you know where to look. Loud noises make him tense up. He identifies the exit of any place he finds himself. He double, then triple, checks door locks. A leg bounces anxiously, brain fog prevails, sleepless nights ensue. There's an expectation, he feels, for him to bounce back and return to his high-spirited ways, but how does a person do that? Navigating life when you had been so close to losing it is uniquely difficult.

His brush with death made him think upon his life a lot, going as far back as his childhood. Nobody ever believes him when he says he was a shy child. It reads like one of his jokes - 'Rawiri' and 'shy' are words that shouldn't exist in the same sentence - but it's the truth. He was shy and quiet and an infinitely better person than the man he grew into. Kinder. Stronger moral compass. Adored by parents who hated what he became, who could not see a trace of their sweet boy in the man who chased laughter for a living.

Born and raised in Raukokore, New Zealand, by a Russian-Jewish mother and a father of Te Whānau-ā-Apanui descent, his childhood was gentle and unassuming. His parents both worked as university professors, and imagined their only child would also be academically inclined - but he threw a spanner in the works, deciding he wanted to be a comedian instead. He left school with notions of becoming famous, moving to New York at 19 where he was a regular on the comedy circuit, playing any shows he could book.

He found his way into writing for TV in his mid 20s, when the producer of a talk show attended one of his comedy gigs; it felt like a dream at the time. He assumed his talent would be writing for others, that he could elevate the blandest of hosts, but he realised this wasn't true. After watching too many people fumble lines he knew could get big laughs if they'd been executed differently - the cadence, the expression, if they'd waited to deliver a punchline rather than racing through the autocue - he just knew he could do it better and fought for a chance to prove his skills as a host, pestering producers on every show he worked on. Eventually one relented and he was given his own segment within another show - a tiny slither of time to capture an audience with topical comedy. It proved popular enough to warrant a longer segment, then his own small spin-off show. He ultimately went on to reach the pinnacle of his career at the age of 35, when he became the host of his own major show.

And so the story goes. He fronts the show for over a decade, provoking people who should never be provoked until someone decides they've had enough. He almost winds up dead. His own parents can't even recognise him in the aftermath, beaten so badly it's a miracle he's survived (it doesn't feel like a miracle.) He's left terrified, lonely, miserable, and feeling as though he can't express any of those things because he's built a whole career on being funny. Part of him yearns to get back on-air and pretend he's unfazed. The rest wants to continue hiding forever.

— WANTED CONNECTIONS / PLOTS.

The person/people who put a hit out on him: I've kept this purposely vague in his bio so it can be open for all the drama. Rawiri has no idea who targeted him - if it was one disgruntled individual or a calculated group decision.

The hitman: The person tasked with killing him. Needless to say it didn't go to plan as he's still very much alive. The reason behind this can be plotted - an error on their part? sheer dumb luck from Rawiri? an unexpected interruption? Anything could work. The actual attack is hazy to him so I doubt he'd recognise them, but maybe there's a sense of unease when their paths cross that he can't quite put his finger on.

Media: Since his attack, he's been largely unreachable. No public appearances have been made, interview requests ignored - so maybe someone in the media has been trying to find a way to get him to speak to them? Pestering him, sweetening him up, promising a balanced article - basically employing the same tactics he uses to get guests on his show. He knows what they're doing, recognises himself in what they're doing, and hates it.

Law enforcement: There would've been an investigation into his attack, which could be complicated given Rawiri's track record of publicly making fun of the police. Humiliating for him, but it could be endlessly entertaining to someone in law enforcement to finally have the upper hand. Maybe they were kind to him and changed his opinion of the police, or maybe they've clashed the whole way.

Exes: The problem with Rawiri is that the things that draw people to him inevitably also end up being the reasons they leave. He's witty, with a contagiously high-spirited energy, but it doesn't take long to realise that's all he is. He's incapable of being a reliable, mature presence; it's not enough to make a partner laugh if you can't also be there to support them in the bleak times. He's a dream in the early dating stages, a goldmine of jokes and sweet gestures, but the novelty wears off. He's had a lot of short-term relationships and a small amount of longer ones, so I'm totally open to plotting those dynamics. Maybe they hate each other. Maybe an ex reentered his life in the aftermath of the attack to help with his recovery and there's still feelings.

Other: Talk show guests, bad influences, good influences, enemies to friends, friends to enemies, the first person to find him after his attack, chosen family, crushes, neighbours, friends with benefits, people who work on his show, fans of his show, hate-watchers, etc.

[setagaya-division]

Yorii's Thoughts on Suginami Division

Ryuko Umemoto

"Ah, Mr. Big, Bad Animator, himself!" Yorii laughs at Ryuko's photo. "Would you all believe me if I told you I had to work with this guy once? Apparently, he and his team were doing some animated version of this highly-acclaimed manga. What was it called again... oh yeah! Red of the Ambitious, I think. I took a gander at it. It was alright, but once you've read one isekai manga, you've read them all. They're all the same, really. Some hero or heroine dies a sad death, they come face-to-face with their Maker or the God of that universe, get transported to a new world where their abilities are a lot better than they were in the old world. Same-old, same-old."

"Anyway, apparently one of the characters had my size and build, so they asked me to act as something of a model." Yorii then shows Ryuko's photo again. "And guess who was in charge of that. Boy, I had some fun teasing this guy. It was fun seeing his expression, and knowing he couldn't do much about it since he'd get into a lot of trouble! But still, I decided to cut him some slack at the end and do my parts correctly. ...For the most part, anyway."

"After that, we were both paid a hefty sum and went about our separate ways. I wouldn't have bothered with him after that, but I hear he works as a sort of babysitter for Kanra-chan and one of her friends. If so, I'll have to find a reason to bug him again!"

Maki Umemoto

"Maki-sensei? You mean he's joining this rap tournament too? Huh. Like Mina said, I'm surprised, but at the same time, I'm not. I mean, seriously, if you could hear some of the things this guy says about the government. I tell you, if he ever got tired of teaching, he could have a career as a public speaker or something. ...But still, for all his talking, you'd think he'd do less of that, and more action, you know? I mean, it's all well to talk about doing something, but if you're not actually putting your words to good use, then what good are you?"

"Besides that, Maki-sensei is... an okay teacher. I've noticed he gets a little bit nervous when it comes to teaching a large number of students, which doesn't bother me then. The more time he works up the nerve the teach, the more time I get to chill in the back of the classroom, playing on my phone and browsing PROFILE!"

Shuu Edogawa

As the singer looks at the photo of the detective, Yorii bursts out laughing. "Really?! Are you kidding me?! This guy?! I can't believe it!" Yorii starts laughing again, but manages to calm himself down. "Oh geez... sorry, sorry. I guess I should explain myself, right? Well, here goes. See, before I met Kanra-chan, you all know I liked to flirt and hang out with girls, right? Well... as it turns out, some of the girls I spoke too may or may not have been together with someone else at the time. And as it turns out... seeing their girls with a guy shorter and younger than them was bound to piss some guys off. But instead of doing the jobs themselves, they decided to hire this guy to get proof first!" Yorii points to Shuu's photo.

"Ever since then, he and I have been engaged in a rather fun game of 'Cat and Mouse'. There have been several times he's actually caught me, but it doesn't really do him much good. Know why? Simple. This is why."

Yorii then opens his mouth and starts singing an enchanting song, which makes the camera black out for a bit. As he finishes, you are left wondering what you were just doing and why Yorii is sitting smiling at you innocently, as if he has a dirty, little secret...

山茶花 Zombeez

"Do I need to say it? I like all of the guys from this team! ...Or rather, I like messing with all of the guys from this team! I mean, hey, can you blame me? They make it too easy! Especially Mr. Investigator here!" Yorii says, laughing out loud again. "Oh man, I cannot wait to face these guys in the tournament! It is going to be a barrel full of laughs for everyone involved!"

[busdriver-55]

Music Industry AU

This is one if my all time favourite AUs/tropes, whether it's Rockstar or Pop reylo I need it, and since I realised that I've read quite a lot of fics set in the music industry, I figured I had to share them with everyone! 😈🎤🎸👑

The Great Big No by @dietplainlite: Kylo Ren is third generation rock royalty, a reigning brat prince starting to feel the burn of the fame he reached for with both hands. Rey is an aspiring singer on the verge of a big break, provided her A&R guy still has a job by the time she reaches LA. Their paths have crossed briefly, disappointingly, before. What happens when they collide?

Like A Technicoloured Hue by xxredwineandambiencexx: Rey Kenobi is an up and coming country singer looking to make the transition to pop. Kylo Ren is one of the biggest singer songwriters in the world, and he’s looking to capture a new fanbase. Set against the backdrop of a star studded Los Angeles, the two collide in the most spectacular way possible, producing a partnership that surprises everyone, herself included. In the City of Angels, anything goes.

Chasing Lightning by gutlesswonder: Not long after arriving in the States on a student visa, looking to flee her grim childhood, Rey's found a passion bigger than what brought her to college in the first place: playing lead guitar in a rock band with her best friends. Naturally, the local college rock band scene is abuzz with interest when Rebel Scum is asked to open for the critically acclaimed noise-band-on-the-rise STARKILLER. Rey and her bandmates are all nerves, hoping to land an indie record deal, while avoiding the ire of STARKILLER's front-man: a notoriously unfriendly tour-de-force drummer who goes by the stage name of Kylo Ren. Luckily for Rey, she doesn't scare easily.

i only lie when i love you by @dankobah: Rockstar Kylo who is a M E S S (Drug/Alcoholic past). Rey is an actress who takes none of his shit, agrees to a fake relationship to improve Kylo’s public image.

shatter out loud by neonheartbeat: Kylo Ren, the frontman of KORE, is the most famous rock idol ever signed to Empire Records and First Order Management: notoriously reclusive, silent, and talented. Rey Niima is a reporter for Rolling Stone assigned to give his first-ever press interview, along for the ride on the band's tour of the United States, despite the fact she loathes him. But both have secrets they need the other to hide.

still learning (to love myself) by @dankobah: editor/director Ben Solo gets hired to make a documentary about Rey, a famous pop star. They fall in love along the way. (Miss Americana AU)

It's a Long Way to the Top by @mzladybird: Kylo, Rey, Finn and Hux are in a Rock Band. Rey is newish to rock n roll.

Off Script by elle_reads: The plan isn’t that complicated, really. Pretend to date. Get media attention and the album sales that go with it. Amicably split — conflicting schedules, different goals, whatever. It’s a simple storyline. The only problem is that Rey goes off script.

[kimseokjin2024]

Reminiscences Memories: [April 6, 2021]

Creative director of a BTS concert tour says Jin's "Epiphany" performance felt like "meeting a god"

A book by a creative director of a BTS concert tour Kevin Kim was published recently. He shared some inner stories and personal impressions in it. One of them was about one of the most legendary BTS stages - "Epiphany" by Jin.

Kim says the process of creating a stage for a ballad song was the most difficult. However, they came up with so many ideas that it would be enough for a whole concert.

The set for Epiphany frequently changes; one of the most iconic is the piano with flowers, the box with rain outside of it, the futuristic piano (that the idol ordered himself). Jin is known as the member whose songs and performances are outstanding - not trivial K-pop stages.

The director says that the roar from the audience was super loud. The whole impression the performance was making on him felt "so holy," as if he was meeting a god. The stage presence of Seokjin is really unmatched.

As it was revealed before, Seokjin was the one who came up and gave the base for the LY series - that is also why his intro is the climax of the whole concert, and only he could convey such a difficult emotional message since he is the actor of the BTS team.

Kim Seokjin is the only idol to receive a standing ovation from the Japanese audience not even once, but twice. Jin said he felt so emotional from the overwhelming feeling.

The biggest impression that the "Epiphany" performance makes on people is the vocals of Seokjin. He is the member with the most emotional and strong voice, being acclaimed by the biggest critics for the vocal techniques performed in "Epiphany."

Kim also mentions it:

"As Jin had sung Epiphany countless times since the LY tour, his vocals were perfect; his facial expressions were so natural while taking a break in the middle, walking up the stairs, and standing at the top of the stairs."

It's worth mentioning the phenomenon Seokjin became in Saudi Arabia after the "Epiphany" stage in Riyadh. The audience was so impressed by the power of his voice; people were saying it felt like experiencing something out of this world. "Epiphany" immediately got to the #1 on SA iTunes while the concert was still going. On Twitter, Jin and Epiphany were trending for days, SA media was writing articles about the god of vocals. Ever since then, "Jin's voice" trends in SA after every live performance or a new release.

You can listen to the MR removed "Epiphany" from Riaydh to understand the impression made on the public.

Another shocking fact is that Seokjin was performing "Epiphany" back to back with "The Truth Untold" without having more than 1-minute break! Both songs are solely vocal, requiring great skills, and Seokjin performed both more than 65 times absolutely perfectly, demonstrating astonishing stability and vocal techniques.

Seokjin always gives the most iconic performances!

Source: Allkpop

[apelcini]

reading your maryland descriptions is so fascinating. you’re like a maryland anthropologist

oh man and i haven’t even scraped the surface there. i have an endless propensity for dissecting everything that’s wrong with this clown factory after 18 years of breathing in the clown factory fumes. i really need to go the fuck to sleep and get my words in order but remind me tomorrow to tell you about how maryland has some of the nation’s most acclaimed public schools, about the “whatever you believe in is fine just don’t get loud or rock the boat” everyday political landscape, how being north of dc does NOT in fact make you a northern state despite every marylander’s misconception, and how every leftist in maryland thinks there used to be indigenous people here but unfortunately they’re gone now so there’s nothing you can do to help them except acknowledge that they existed. this place feels like the setting of a disney channel movie if it was a twilight zone episode about living in a disney channel movie. maryland is a southern state dipped in blue paint but nobody here wants to acknowledge it because then they can’t be classist to the rest of the south anymore. i hope the whole state gets absorbed into west virginia and cumberland becomes the state capital

[sinceileftyoublog]

Unwound & Circuit des Yeux Live Show Review: 3/8, Thalia Hall, Chicago

BY JORDAN MAINZER

I can’t think of another way to say it: How lucky are we that Unwound decided to reunite? Mid-way through their incredible set Wednesday night at Thalia Hall, my friend (who had a spare last minute ticket) turned to me and remarked, “I feel like this is the closest we’ll ever get to seeing Nirvana.” The comparison is apt. If Nirvana’s is one of if not the most acclaimed band of the 90′s, Unwound is an under-the-radar pick for the best; the A.V. Club named them as such 10 years ago. Over their decade of releasing music, the Washington-based band churned out seven records of post-hardcore classics, from debut Fake Train and sophomore album New Plastic Ideas to their final art rock masterpiece Leaves Turn Inside You, never straying from the DIY ethics they came to be known for.

Unwound broke up in 2002, as bassist Vern Rumsey’s alcoholism worsened, and serious efforts to reunite were hampered by his addiction as late as 2019. With Rumsey’s blessing, frontperson Justin Trosper and drummer Sara Lund rehearsed with bassist Jared Warren, who never got to tell Rumsey about the band’s intent to play shows before Rumsey’s death during COVID. But in an era when artists’ lives in between album release cycles are often displayed for the world to see, the combination of the pandemic and Unwound’s secrecy left the general public comparatively in the dust until last summer. On July 12, the band announced a reunion tour, revealing that they had practiced earlier that spring with the lineup of Trosper, Lund, Warren, and Nocturnal Habits guitarist/keyboardist Scott Seckington. In a statement proving the band’s ethos was as strong as ever, Trosper said, “Starting over again is a rebellious act against our failure.”

Indeed, Unwound’s music is often rebellious without sounding like our schema of rebellion, their dynamics and tight musicianship on display Wednesday night. “Envelope” deftly switched from loud to quiet and back. “Disappoint” burned into its climax. The one-two-three punch of “Valentine Card”, “Kantina”, and “Were Are and Was or Is”, presented in segue like on Fake Train, started as charging punk before expanding into instrumental post-rock, apropos for a band whose evolution in their recorded output was more sneaky than obvious. It’s hard to say, but I can’t say the band sounded much different than what I imagine they’d have sounded like with their original lineup, both members and numbers-wise. If anything, with four instrumentalists on stage, they were more rounded than sharp, all-encompassing and enrapturing.

A few songs prior to the band’s intermission (more bands need an intermission!), Lund asked, not taking for granted the band’s fanbase, “How many people drove far to get here?” At least 1/3 of the room shouted. She continued, “Thank you to young people. We need you.” It’s not just lip service. The band has been handpicking openers for their set, and Wednesday’s was none other than Circuit des Yeux, one and a half years removed from the release of their Matador debut -io. Their performance was the most expressive I’ve ever seen Haley Fohr. Her deep, booming, operatic voice was there as usual, as was her immaculate picking and strumming, but this time, she repeatedly pounded her chest in conjunction with Ashley Guerrero’s drums, primal in her utterances. Throughout the set, Fohr dragged around her microphone, emulated fainting spells, and danced, her stage presence matching the drama of her music. Longtime collaborator Whitney Johnson of Matchess distorted her viola to sound like an electric guitar on “Dogma” and used pedals to create an enormous sound. Though I was glad to hear -io songs live for the first time, Reaching For Indigo’s “Black Fly” was the unabashed highlight of the set. Fohr’s guitar was Crazy Horse-level distorted atop Guerrero’s drum rolls and tom-work and Johnson’s plucking. As Johnson’s viola took on fiddle-like timbres, the song could have passed for a Songs: Ohia jam.

After performing “Vanishing”, Fohr declared, “Happy International Women’s Day to Sara Lund.” With an all-female band, opening for punk legends who themselves supported radical feminist politics, it was the cherry on top of a night that a year prior nobody in the room would have ever expected, even the folks on stage. 

[visionkept]

CHARACTER STORIES; 1 & 2.

CHARACTER DETAILS. ( TOMOYA AOKI ).

An acclaimed wandering samurai known by many in the land of eternity as they who defies the lightning’s glow. 

Tomoya, or Tomo as many call them, is an assertive swordsman native from Inazuma. They have made a name for themselves among the other samurais due to its efficiency and ability.

Those who have witnessed their technique share that the power that comes from their sword is as fast and bright as a lightning ( hence the nickname ). ❝ A single strike from Tomo’s sword is enough to defeat the toughest of warriors. ❞

It’s not unusual for local merchants to hire Tomoya when Inazuma's trade routes get filled with bandits and pirates. It’s even rumored that the Kamisato clan has commissioned Tomoya with some top secret assignments behind the Tenryou commission’s back. 

If you ever come across Tomoya in one of your trips, do not be shy and have a drink with them ! Perhaps they will give in and tell you a few of their stories. 

CHARACTER STORY 1. ( TAMA ? WHO IS SHE ? )

Have you met Tama ? 

She’s Tomoya’s partner in crime and the most beautiful girl in the samurai’s humble opinion. Do not get surprised when out of Tomoya’s kimono peeks out some gorgeous sapphire eyes, that’s just Tama saying hello.

That’s right, Tama is the turkish angora cat that always hangs around Tomoya. No matter where they go, if it’s Liyue or Sumeru, Tama will most likely be there at their side. What an inseparable duo !

Curious on how the two met ? Well, there’s no certain answer available at the moment. Tomoya likes to change the story whenever someone asks them. But if there’s something certain, it’s that those two have a rather special bond.

                     ❝ To tell the truth, I think I need her more than she needs me. ❞

If you haven’t met her yet, find Tomoya and ask them about Tama ! I’m pretty sure she will pop out of her usual hiding place to greet you with a big ‘MEOW’ ! Make sure to bring her some tuna though, she’s a bit demanding.

You know, maybe Tama is the most spoiled cat in all Inazuma. . . or even in all Teyvat !

CHARACTER STORY 2. ( A LIGHTNING’S STORM )

Not much is known about Tomoya’s past.

The general public only knows their first name, that they come from Inazuma, and that they have been a wandering samurai for a long time. The rest is kept a mystery.

There’s no official documents stating their date of birth, nor information of their parents or close relatives. Who are they ? WHO REALLY IS TOMOYA ?

                                                         🟪

   (  Tomoya Aoki. . . 

        ❝ You NAMED yourself Aoki because you REFUSE to use dad’s last name. ❞      🟪 ❝ That guy isn’t OUR dad. That filthy man is NOTHING to me, to US. ❞        ❝ But mom wants us to keep his name, maybe that way he will--- ❞      🟪 ❝ He won’t and you know that too. In his eyes, we are not his daughter and son, we are street rats trying to ruin his career. ❞

                    Tomoya Fujihara. . . illegitimate offspring of the Fujihara Clan leader. Raised by their mother, once a housekeeper in the Fujihara household, before being banished alongside her two children ).

                                                        🟪

              Perhaps. . . the day will come when they finally open up to someone.

                    ❝ My name ? You know it already ~ ! Oh. . . you mean my COMPLETE name ? Well, this better stay between the two of us, gotcha ? Aoki, TOMOYA AOKI. . . heh, it’s strange saying it out loud after so long. ❞

[lavenrain96]

A Promise

For @mikayuuweek

Day 1: Start/New (ft. CEO!Mika x Bodyguard!Yuu)

Today is the start of MikaYuu week, and I want to participate to make up for lost time (and as a way to make myself distracted from writer’s block). This piece is a throwback to my other piece that I wrote previously, and can be read as a standalone.

Anyway, enjoy reading~

---

Mikaela wasn’t aware… No, he was aware, but he chose to remain ignorant because he was a symbol; a beacon for a fresh start to the company his father handed to him on his deathbed. But, of course, while it sounded nice on paper, nothing was ever free in the world of business -- especially one that involves itself with money.

It was one of Mikaela’s goals to clean up whatever misdeeds his father did with minimal exposure to the public, yet a snitch managed to shed some light to a rather complicated scandal - one that Mikaela hoped to erase before anyone could find out, but he knew he was too late as soon as the reports started flooding in.

“Shindo Landmark Bankings, operated and succeeded through the use of blood money!” Mikaela heard the news going around with a silent frown, watching the television that showcased the headlines. “Who knew that one of the most acclaimed banks in Shibuya could have held such a dark secret? We aren’t certain with the details whether it’s true or not, and we will invite the young CEO, Mikaela Shindo, for a possible interview to further give us more information about this. Back to you, Ferid.”

Mikaela picked up the remote to turn off the appliance before his office phone rang up. Shinoa must have heard about it, and was now dealing with the numerous invitations for conferences and interviews. The amount of work that his secretary had to do to give him space made guilt claw on Mikaela’s chest; he should definitely give Shinoa a raise.

However, he needed to secure the credibility and reputation of the company first, lest he put millions of hardworking people unemployed.

But, the pressure of it all…

Mikaela sighed. He pinched the bridge of his nose as he reached out to accept the call.

“Shinoa,” Mikaela groaned softly, annoyed yet still resigned to his fate. “Don’t sugarcoat it. Tell me everything.”

“Yes, sir.” Shinoa replied firmly. “Your mother wants you to schedule a conference to clear the situation at hand. The present parties are Sanguinem News, Hiiragi News Station, Hyakuya Patrol, and… Ichinose Law Enforcement Team.”

Mikaela gave a self-deprecating smile. He figured that Yuuichirou's party would be present, but having to hear Shinoa say it just made him more anxious, especially now that Yuuichirou wasn't by his side anymore to listen into his thoughts.

He had long dismissed the bodyguard after a rather heated argument, and Mikaela's mother deemed Yuuichirou unworthy to serve him after an event that could have led to a scandal -- rendering Mikaela to be alone once more.

Mikaela unconsciously hugged himself, laughing pathetically at himself as he wondered about how he should proceed with this conference without getting backlashes enough to bankrupt the company. He was unaware of the new presence entering his office discreetly until he smelled his favorite coffee latte waft in the air.

"It isn't like you to look this sad, Mika." 

A familiar voice caught Mikaela's attention, and he looked up to see Yuuichirou with a latte at hand, looking at him solemnly. 

"... Yuu-chan?" Mikaela murmured, unsure. "What are you doing here? You no longer have access here now that you were dismissed."

"Hey, cut me some slack. I heard all about the commotion going on, and wanted to see how you're doing." Yuuichirou explained with a tone that Mikaela couldn't decipher. "Besides, Shinoa let me in, so yeah…"

Mikaela sighed, palming his face. "There's nothing to see here. Now go away..." 

"... Hmm? Is that how you act when you're not in your flirty, teasing mode? You act like a cat." Yuuichirou wondered out loud with a snicker as he placed the latte on Mikaela's desk. 

"I have no time to entertain you, Yuu-chan. I need to think right now, so please go away…" 

Yuuichirou glanced at Mikaela to see him quivering a bit while covering his face. He leaned close to the young entrepreneur, letting his green eyes stare for a moment before asking, "Are you crying?"

Mikaela was silent before he shook his head.

"Hey…" Yuuichirou cooed as he gently took a hold on Mikaela's hand on his face, and lowered it down to reveal that the other was indeed crying, yet was still in denial of it, wanting to appear strong. "There's nothing wrong with crying. It's just you and me here. Your mother won't even bother to come in unless it affects her reputation."

"But, I…"

"Shh, I've been around you for quite a while, Mika. You're very open about your expressions and feelings towards me, so I know what you're thinking about right now." Yuuichirou explained as he wiped away Mikaela's tears with his hand. "You love everyone in this company, including myself. That heart of yours is too damn big that only a few can match."

Mikaela sniffled as Yuuichirou led him to his chair to sit down, and be caged by the other who loomed over him. 

"That's why, I swore to protect it; to protect you. Because, from what I see, even if this world is hell itself, there's a person who could be someone's heaven." Yuuichirou then took one of Mikaela's hands to kiss the back of it. The act made Mikaela's breath stutter, and he blushed a bit at the intimacy. 

"Yuu-chan…" 

Yuuichirou gave Mikaela a lopsided smile before he neared to kiss Mikaela's forehead. "You don't have to worry about the Ichinose Law Enforcement Team, because I'm not turning my back on you. I'm going to be with you from the start until the end, Mika. You have my word on that."

"Oh…" Mikaela breathed, craning his neck for a bit when Yuuichirou settled his head on his shoulder. "I don't… think that was part of the contract…" 

"You dismissed me. Of course, it's not part of the contract. Not anymore." Yuuichirou teased as he gave Mikaela's ear a kiss. "I'm proposing to you."

Mikaela chuckled, loving the attention Yuuichirou was giving him. "I wasn't expecting a proposal like this, but then again, you're you, Yuu-chan." 

"And you're you, Mika." Yuuichirou returned as he pulled back to gaze at Mikaela like he was everything he ever wanted. His heart swelled with affection for the other. "I love you."

Mikaela laughed softly before he circled his arms around Yuuichirou to kiss him on the lips, reciprocating his feelings without needing words as he kept Yuuichirou's promise close to his heart.

[back-and-totheleft]

"The downward spiral of America’s cultural perversity"

Oliver Stone didn’t declare himself the King of the World after winning Oscars for Best Picture and Best Director for Platoon, but, after following Platoon with the success of Wall Street, Stone clearly had his choice of projects in 1988. However, before the run of ambitious and controversial films that would follow, Stone made one of his smallest-scale films with Talk Radio. In adapting Eric Bogosian’s acclaimed play, Stone and the playwright added details from Stephen Singular’s biography of Alan Berg, a Denver radio host murdered in his own driveway by a neo-Nazi group in 1984. Shot in four weeks in Dallas, almost entirely in a warehouse converted into a radio station, the film is Stone’s examination of Reagan-era American culture through the transmission of a radio talk show in the middle of a Texas night.

Every aspect of the modern American cesspool that the film takes in — neuroses, self-destruction, corporate machinations, racism, schizophrenia, violence, stupidity — is filtered through Barry Champlain, the acerbic host of Dallas radio’s top-rated show, “Night Talk”. Barry, as his theme music warns you (or promises), is bad to the bone, in more ways than one. Barry is all of the things Americans desire in their highest-paid talk-radio hosts: loud, opinionated, short-tempered, condescending, and rude.

Those who call in to talk to Barry represent a cross-section of frightening insomniacs. These folks are stock-character masochists, calling in for a fresh Barry pole-axing. Hicks, derelicts, rapists, burnouts, bigots, simpletons — they all call in and convince Barry that, as he says, “this country is rotten to the core”. The voices of the night in one American city provide Barry with enough bile to keep him going, but it’s also a relationship that seems to be eating him alive. “I’m glad people like Kent are out there, and I’m in here,” Barry claims after one particularly gruesome call, yet when Barry spits vitriol about the decay of the American scene, he looks and sounds like a man on a suicide mission to be consumed by it.

All the while, people watch Barry from behind glass. He is an animal trapped in a cage, talking, chain-smoking, and watching people watch him. Stone creates a vortex of claustrophobia, circling Barry in arc shots with the camera or, in Barry’s final epic rant, rotating the background to circle a solitary Barry. Despite these occasional flourishes, the scenes of Barry at work — the bulk of the film — capture the single-set design of the stage show, and Stone is mostly content to stay out of the way and let Bogosian work.

It’s a sizzling performance. Bogosion crawls so deep into the troubled psyche of his creation, it’s impossible to distinguish between the two, especially given the frantic pace of shooting, as Bogosian looks exhausted and demented by the end of the film. Pushing Barry further over the edge is his boss, played with drippy smarm by Alec Baldwin, who kisses the ass of the corporate radio giant, Metrowave, interested in taking Barry and “Night Talk” to the syndication big leagues. Barry, however, is just self-destructive enough to raise the shock-talk ante and scare Metrowave away, that is if he isn’t too busy verbally mutilating his ex-wife, ruining his chance at reconciliation with her. Or goading his audiences into killing him.

Amid the neon lights and perms and skinny ties in Talk Radio, what holds up is the prescient examination of the downward spiral of America’s cultural perversity, not the least of all in the ways we communicate and the fascination we have with mutual abuse. Callers are essentially begging to be insulted and vilified by Barry, and thousands of others listen in for nightly doses of public humiliation. In an age of message-board flame wars, reality-television shouting matches, and muckumentary exercises in embarrassment, Talk Radio, for its time, was not only a table-turning expose of the Howard Sterns or Don Imuses reaching national celebrity at the time, but a dizzying, complex view of a country going straight to hell and one fascinated by watching it happen.

-Steve Leftridge, "Reconsidering the Oliver Stone Filmography," PopMatters, Sept 23 2010