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duskholland · 4 years

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Meet Your Match || Mob!Tom Smut

Summary ↠ It’s always awkward when your current boyfriend meets your ex, but it’s a whole new level when it transpires that your ex-boyfriend is the leader of Tom’s rival mob...

Warnings ↠ 18+, contains mature nsfw material. There are extended warnings beneath the cut, but this is quite heavy.

Word count ↠ 5.9k

A/N ↠ Genuinely am shocked that this came out of my head tbh. It is very intense so please consult the warnings before you dive in ! The entire concept of the first half is very random and almost crack, but then the second half...phew. Sheesh. Thanks to V, mischiefandi, for suggesting I write in a hot Irish mobster as Y/N’s ex...love that for her, and I love you V. I hope you all enjoy this :)

This is a part of my mob!Tom series – a collection of oneshots set within the same universe. You don’t need to read the other parts for this to make sense! You can find the other parts in my masterlist.

18+ do not touch this if you are a minor.

extended warnings: lol. mob themes including gun mention and punching, a broken nose ft minor mentions of blood, a bit of a dodgy ex who makes some uncomfortable comments, alcohol, possessive!jealous!Tom, d/s dynamics, soft!dom!Tom, mean!dom!Tom, thigh riding, oral (f receiving), spitting, orgasm denial and edging, guided masturbation, rough sex, doggy-style, like two minor instances of spanking, he calls her slut once. im not here to fuck around this goes hard so if you aren’t into rough stuff this isn’t for you. also includes unprotected sex -- please practise safe sex (condoms provide barriers against STIs as well as unwanted pregnancy. pls be safe irl). i would like mob!tom to rail me thank u. enjoy.

--------- Meet Your Match ---------

You’d never given much thought to the possibility of Tom meeting one of your exes. Why would you, when being with him is infinitely more satisfying, loving, and enjoyable than it had ever been with one of them?

But if you’d had to imagine it, you would’ve pictured it casually. Maybe you’d be out somewhere together - at a café, or a market, with Tom’s arm wrapped safely around you. You’d see your ex - whoever it may be - and there’d be an awkward encounter. The exchange of painful hellos and goodbyes, maybe some piercing stares, and pinched words. Then, you’d move on, and that would be that.

Never, in your wildest dreams, would you have imagined you’d run into your ex-boyfriend whilst in attendance at a meeting of the London mobs.

It’s a special event - a large, networking occasion, organised by Tom, as an opportunity for him to meet with his partners and rivals, as they come together to cordially bond over beer and discuss business plans. It’s hosted right in the centre of Piccadilly, in the elegant conference room of a luxurious hotel. You’re just starting to relax and settle in when you glance across the room and see him:

Aidan. Your ex-boyfriend. At… A meeting of the mobs of London?

“What the fuck,” you mutter. You almost drop your glass of champagne as you narrow your eyes and stare. The conference room is vast, adorned with glittering chandeliers and large banquet tables, but it’s undeniable: Aidan is here.

“Everything alright, love?” Tom’s by your side, one of his arms wrapped loosely around your shoulders. He’s in remarkably high spirits this evening. The event is fully underway, and judging by the snippets of conversation you’ve been hearing, Tom’s latest plans are coming into fruition - something about warehouses, and a shipment of class A drugs. But none of it matters now, because your mind is entirely elsewhere.

“No,” you state immediately.

Tom cranes his neck, his eyes seeking you out. You manage to drag your gaze away from Aidan for a brief second.

“What is it?” He’s looking at you with those deep, warm brown eyes, and his gaze is so tender it makes your breath hitch. One of Tom’s fingers moves up to caress your cheek, and you find yourself shifting guiltily on your feet.

“Who, exactly, did you invite to this meeting?” You ask your boyfriend, speaking in hushed tones. Your eyes slip back to Aidan, and you feel yourself relax as you note he’s still deep in conversation with a few men.

“Suppliers, rivals, allies… Anyone of importance, really.” Tom narrows his eyes, his thumb brushing over your chin as he looks at you closely. “Why?”

“Did you know that you’ve also invited my ex-boyfriend?”

Judging by the look of utter shock on Tom’s face, he had not, in fact, realised his fundamental truth.

“Who?” He asks immediately. His face shifts through several shades before settling on jealous, with his eyebrows bunched together.

You turn around, resting one hand on the broad shoulder of Tom’s suit before using your other to point out across the crowd.

“Aidan.”

Tom squints his eyes, a small rumbling noise travelling up his throat. “Aidan?” He repeats, his voice flooded with confusion. You hum affirmatively. “Bloke with the blond hair? Irish?” Again, a hum. Tom releases a short, curt chuckle. “Angel, he’s not called Aidan.”

“What?” You exclaim.

Tom releases a deep sigh. “That’s Gordy. He runs the Eastside.”

You feel your jaw loosen. A fake name. “Gordy Byrne?”

“The one and only.”

“Shit.”

You’ve been with Tom for a year. Over those long, fulfilling twelve months, you’ve picked up on several important key pieces of information about the London mob: it’s split into three factions, each sector run by a different figurehead. Tom and his family control the South-West, and they’re in constant disagreement with Gordy, of the East, and Monique, of the North. Each third is continuously testing the waters, trying to take over land, and supplies, and emerge as the solo Kingpin of London. The fragile alliance between the three families is constantly on the verge of disintegration.

And Gordy is your ex, who you’d met three years ago at the same exclusive club you’d worked in when you’d met Tom. Your relationship had lasted eight months and ended on equal terms as you’d mutually agreed the spark had fizzled away. Despite the considerable span of your relationship, you’d had no suspicions that he’d been involved with the mob. The thought is incredibly jarring.

“Seems like you have a type,” Tom comments, his voice entirely too flippant.

Before you can call him out on his apparent feelings of resentment, your evening takes a further turn as you realise Gordy has spotted you and is now working his way through the sea of people towards you.

He looks just as you remember: 6’2, blond, green-eyed. His shoulders are stocky and broad, and his suit bulges with disguised muscles. He maintains that signature swagger you’d come to associate with him, his eyes glinting as he throws out a wild smile. Your eyes catch on the presence of a few new golden teeth fixed in his mouth, and then to the tattooed knuckles that hang by his side.

“Y/N Y/L/N,” Gordy greets, green eyes skimming across you appreciatively, “Who’d ‘a thought we’d meet again?”

All you can really do is let out a squeak of agreement, and pull away from Tom’s side to greet the man with a kiss on the cheek. The familiar scent of Gordy’s musky cologne drifts up your nose, and it makes your head spin.

“What are you doing here?” You ask as you pull away, looking at him incredulously. His pale cheeks wear a scruff of fuzz, highlighting the high arches of his cheekbones.

“What are you doing here?” He returns, his Irish accent twanging. His eyes shift over to Tom, then back to you, and then they watch as Tom reaches out and carefully tangles his fingers with yours. “Wait…”

“Evening, mate,” Tom greets, voice a little clipped. You feel the grip on your hand tighten, and you let him reel you back into his side. You find home beneath Tom’s heavy arm as he repositions it across your shoulder, keeping you near. “I see you’ve already met my girlfriend.”

The air seems to flicker with tension.

“Interesting,” Gordy comments. He shifts his attention back to you, drawing the lines of your face with his curious eyes. “Didn’t take you for the type, Y/N. Would’ve stuck around if I’d thought you could handle this life.”

His words dig into you, and you find yourself clenching your teeth.

“You told me you worked in banking.”

“Oh, I do.” He runs his fingers down the front of his designer suit, winking. “The mob is quite a lucrative business.” He pauses, and something a little like guilt flashes over his face. “You know my real name, yeah? Gordy, not Aidan. Sorry about that. I hate the lies, but they’re for protection, y’know.”

You feel almost dizzy as you bring your glass of champagne to your lips and throw it back. The bubbles do little to soothe down your discomfort.

“Wow,” you manage. Your eyes shift up to Tom, who’s looking at Gordy with apprehension in his gaze. You understand why: for the past two months, Tom’s been engaged in a brutal turf-war with Gordy’s family over in the South-East. Men have died, shipments stolen. You know one of Tom’s primary motivations for the meeting tonight was to see if he could reach some kind of agreement with them, but the circumstances were tense enough as it was, before this.

“Isn’t this fun,” Gordy comments. He’s eyeing up Tom now, a cocky smirk hanging from his plush lower lips. “Well, Thomas, it’d seem you and I have a lot more in common than we’d thought, eh? Maybe we’ll be able to come to an agreement.”

Your stomach turns, and you feel Tom tighten his grip on your arm. He clears his throat, and when he speaks, his tone is so severe that it knocks the air from your lungs.

“Don’t talk about Y/N like that,” he warns darkly. “We will not be making any deals tonight, Gordy.”

You raise your eyebrows, trying to meet his eyes but finding that Tom ignores your attempts and instead keeps staring straight ahead at your ex-boyfriend, a determined frown hanging from his thin lips.

“Why’s that, Thomas?” He quips.

“I don’t like your attitude, I don’t like your policies, and I don’t like the way you’re looking at my girlfriend.”

Gordy arches an eyebrow. His hand slips down slowly to rest on his hip, but not before his suit jacket has ridden up just enough to expose the sleek outline of his gun, hanging low in the holster on his belt.

“Is this how it’s going to be, Tom?” He asks, shifting his eyes back to you. “Eh? I bed your bird and suddenly business is off the table?”

You can feel the mood sour, and as much as you’d like to reach out and give Gordy a piece of your mind, you are painfully aware of the circumstances: you are standing in the lion’s den. Despite the meeting of Tom’s creation, you know that there’s no chance in hell that Gordy has walked into the evening alone. To initiate any sort of heated discussion whilst surrounded by London’s most notorious gangsters would be a disastrous move.

“Tom,” you murmur, recognising all too well the signs of anger that curl out across Tom’s face: his clenched jaw, the deep frown marks on his forehead, the tight line of his lips. “Let’s go.”

For a moment you think he’s going to follow you. Tom lets you shrug off his arm and take his hand, and his posture loosens as if he’s about to turn and walk across the room with you. But then, of course, Gordy just has to get in the last word.

“Oh, well, if you’re going, you won’t mind giving me a goodbye kiss, eh, Y/N?” He peers at you with mischievous eyes, his voice lilting lightly. “Just like old times?”

Tom’s moving before you can even attempt to stop him, and you hear a loud crack as his fist sweeps up and collides with Gordy’s nose. The man doubles over, groaning profusely, and your eyes widen as you take in the stream of blood that immediately begins to pour from his face.

“Tom!” You exclaim, your eyes wide and your hands shaking. Your boyfriend grabs at your fingers, squeezing your digits in his.

“He’s not allowed to disrespect you like that,” he mutters darkly.

“I don’t need you to defend me, I can do it myself,” you hiss back. Your heart pounds in your chest, but you feel the hot lump of anger melt away as Tom looks at you through those brown, golden eyes, his mouth positioned into a guilty smile.

Two men emerge from the crowd and flank Gordy’s side. You feel a deep swell of fear pool in the pit of your stomach, and instinctively your fingers move down towards your bag for the switch-blade you’d buried alongside your lipstick. But you find your actions stilling as Gordy clears his throat, rights himself and holds up a bloody hand.

“It’s fine,” Gordy tells his guards. He tilts his head in your direction. “I deserved it. No disrespect to the lady.” His beady green eyes move to Tom. “We can finish this discussion some other time, Thomas. Good evening to you both.”

Before waiting to see if Gordy turns around and walks away, you tighten your grip on Tom’s hand and lead him out of the large conference room. It’s completely silent, and the groups of people seem to part like the sea as you escort your boyfriend from the scene, his lips brushing over the back of his bruised hand as he winces. You don’t say anything, not until you’re safely stowed away in the backseat of a large car, the doors locked, windows tinted, and driver separated by partition.

“Love, look, I’m sorry, but I-”

You cut Tom off by climbing from your seat and meeting his mouth with a deep, needy kiss. Your boyfriend releases a noise of surprise, and his hands shift up to grab at your waist as he pulls you onto his lap eagerly, pressing back against your lips with fervour. It’s messy, and you enjoy running your hands through strands of his unruly hair as he keeps you close, his fingers grasping at every area of your front and sides, mapping you out.

“What did I do to deserve that?” Tom murmurs, his curious eyes meeting yours. “Thought I was in trouble.” His hands cup your cheeks, and you give him a coy smile.

“You shouldn’t have punched him,” you tell him, biting your lip as his thumb brushes over the soft skin of your face. “I’m glad that you did, though. He was a dick.”

Tom hums. “And also the enemy, love.”

Your eyebrows knit together, and you sit back on Tom’s wide thighs as you sigh. “I can’t believe he runs one of the other mobs,” you mutter. “I can’t believe I’ve dated two mobsters, and I didn’t even know.”

Tom’s smile doesn’t quite stretch to his eyes, but he still manages a short chuckle. “I hate the thought of you being with him,” he admits. His eyes stir with something darker, and his fingers dig into your waist. “I hate the thought of you being with anyone other than me.”

You bite your lower lip as you twirl the short strands at the nape of his neck around your fingers. “It was a long time ago,” you tell him. “Our relationship wasn’t anything of consequence.”

Your boyfriend chuckles, but he’s still got that hungry glint in his eyes. You feel a shiver roll down your spine as his gaze sweeps across your face, his hands shifting up to rest on the curves of your breasts. Your dress is thin, and the neckline meant you had to go without a bra. A soft gasp falls past your lips as Tom’s thumbs brush over the lines of your nipples, which prick in response to his touch.

“Is our relationship of consequence?” Tom asks, his voice dancing. He’s staring at your chest now, his smirk widening as you instinctively push further into his hands, enjoying the feeling of his large, warm palms groping at your breasts.

“Of course.” You swallow and bring your fingers away from his neck. With careful movements, you reach up and pull the straps of your dress from your shoulders, meeting Tom’s gaze as you roll down the front of the garment, exposing your bare chest to him. “I love you.”

Tom seeks out your neck with his lips, and you release a small gasp as he sucks firmly on the base of your throat, his fingers moving over your bare chest. You can feel his mouth pulling the blood to the surface of your skin, but the pain makes you cry out in pleasure as your fingers wrap around his suit jacket and fist at the expensive material hugging his back. He takes his time as he works his way up your neck, sucking and biting, and then soothing the throbbing marks with gentle laps of his tongue and soft, open-mouthed kisses. By the time he reaches your ear, you’re squirming in his lap.

“You are mine.”

His tongue teases the lobe of your ear as his hands move all across your bare back, caressing your skin gently with his palms. The cold metal of his silver rings bites to touch, but you shiver in enjoyment.

“Yours,” you agree. Tom shifts from your neck to look at you straight on, his eyes full of dark, heady lust.

“Mine,” he repeats. His mouth is on yours, and you let him prise apart your lips with his tongue. His hands fist at your hair and he pulls you closer roughly, and your teeth collide as he kisses you sloppily, groaning into your mouth. It’s messy - with noses bashing and his digits tugging at your strands and your lips moving everywhere, slick with spit - but you feel him gather you up in his arms as he holds you. He owns you.

You make-out until the car arrives home, at which point your lips are tender and puffy and your entire body throbs with persistent arousal. Tom’s eager with his affection, but you can feel the underlying pulse of fear coasting through his veins; you want so desperately to placate it: to let him know that he has nothing to worry about - that you are his now, and probably always will be. Tom’s not alone in his discomfort - you, too, feel jilted and unbalanced after running into a ghost from your past. You need Tom desperately, in more ways that one. You need him to look after you - to hold you, be firm with you, and show you your place within your relationship. You need him to be your dom, and you crave the release of submitting to him entirely - with your mind, body and heart.

“You can do anything you want to me tonight,” you tell him. You’re standing at the foot of the bed, Tom sitting up against the headboard. His suit jacket lays off to the side, tie hanging loose around his neck and his top two buttons undone. You’ve made a mess of his hair, but he looks so fucking pretty with his chestnut curls all tousled and his lips bright pink and inflamed.

“That’s funny,” Tom comments, eyes glinting as he tilts his head to the side, “I thought I could already do that.”

His words send a shiver down your spine, and you find yourself biting your lower lip as your face fills up with heat.

“Do you want me to take off my dress?” Your fingers toy with the straps, which are all rolled up and uneven thanks to the hastiness in which you’d scrambled from the car.

“No.” Tom sits up, and he pats his thigh invitingly. “Take off your panties and come up here.”

You tease him a little bit, enjoying the way his gaze weighs down your figure. You’re slow to push your dress up to your waist, and you make a show of hooking your index fingers beneath the band to reveal lacy panties. You tug at the material until it falls to pool at your feet, and then you delicately step away from them and approach your boyfriend. You have a sudden thought that it’s as if you are the prey, walking straight into danger, but you welcome it: Tom’s looking at you, his expression hard but excited and his eyes swimming with darkness, and it makes your throat dry up.

“Such a gorgeous girl, aren’t you?”

The material of Tom’s slacks feels coarse against your centre as you straddle his left thigh. His hands press at your waist, pushing your cunt straight against his leg, and the contact makes you moan softly.

“You look so pretty with your neck all marked up.” Tom presses a light kiss to one of your hickeys, and you gasp as a line of pain ripples out across your skin. “You look like you’re mine.”

“I am.”

“I know.” Tom strokes his hand through your hair, eyes watching you carefully. “I’m just going to remind you.”

“And how exactly do you plan on doing that?” You ask, your voice wavering.

He hums, the noise suspended with confidence. “You’ll see.” His hands dig into your waist a little firmer, and he starts to guide your movements. “Work yourself against my thigh, darling. Make a nice wet spot for me.”

His words make you moan, and you’re quick to comply. You recognise the dark glint in his eyes and the layers to his voice - he’s slipping away into his harder, more dominative side, just as you find yourself eager to oblige him. You grind yourself down over his thigh, and his trousers are rough against your flushed centre. The friction burns beautifully. A few moans slip past your lips, and your eyes squeeze shut as his hands press over you, digging into your waist, guiding you. Tom is very much in control, and as the seconds slip past, you give into it.

“Tell me how it feels,” he murmurs, rich voice drifting into your ears. You bite your lip, your hole clenching around nothing as you swivel your hips and feel the pressure to your hot bud.

“Feels really good,” you admit, voice a whimper. “Love it when you let me touch you.”

Tom takes your chin between two fingers, looking at you with a hard stare. He pulls your face to him, his tongue licking a wide stripe over your lips. As you try to push forward for a kiss, he just moves away, a teasing smirk on his lips. “No,” he says softly, “You’ll take what I give you, and you won’t be greedy about it. I don’t want to have to punish you, babygirl.”

You nod quickly, the movement hurried and messy. It’s getting hard to think of anything other than the fact you’ve made his trousers slick with your arousal. The burn between your legs is gradually swelling to a crescendo.

“Sorry,” you whisper. Your fingers find purchase on his shoulder, and you find your forehead dropping down to rest there too as your breathing hitches.

“Are you close, darling?” He’s very soft and gentle, and it makes you whimper out a small noise of agreement. Tom chuckles, pulling at your hair as he brings your face back up, his hands bearing down on your hips to halt your movements. “Lie down for me, please.”

You scramble from his lap, your centre pulsing as it leaves his thigh. Your eyes catch on the way you’ve left a large, wet mark on his trousers, and you watch with wide eyes as Tom stands from the bed. He walks around to the foot of the mattress, his figure commanding your complete attention.

“I’ve been thinking about what I’d like to do to you,” he says, speaking quietly. His nimble fingers work down the buttons of his shirt, popping them quickly. Once his shirt is discarded, Tom works on his slacks. As the metallic sounds of his belt clicking fill the air, he smirks at you. “Are you going to be good for me?”

“Yes,” you say immediately. You squeal as Tom grabs at your ankles and pulls you to the edge of the bed. He kneels on the floor, hauling you closer until your thighs are over his shoulders and his face is near your heat. Your dress scrunches up at your waist, and you whimper as his hands press your legs apart. “I’ll always be good for you.”

“Is that right?” Tom asks, index finger running lightly over the inside of one of your thighs. He looks up at you, eyes hooded and blown wide with lust.

“Yes.”

“Prove it to me,” he instructs. “If you think you’re about to cum, you need to tell me.” Tom’s gaze darkens. “If you disobey me, you won’t enjoy what happens.” With tender lips, he presses a kiss to your inner thigh, looking at you with a gentle smile. When he speaks again, his voice is lighter, “Is this okay, darling?”

You nod.

“Words.”

As two of Tom’s fingers spread your puffy outer lips, you stammer out a broken, “Yes, I understand.”

“Good girl.”

He dives in quickly, and the press of his warm tongue against your pulsing pussy makes you cry out. You’re already feeling hot and bothered from the time you spent rutting against the coarse material of his trousers, and the pressure soothes you. He’s too far away to touch, so you curl your hands into fists and pull at the silky bed linen, eyelids fluttering shut as his tongue caresses you, over and over.

Tom makes out sloppily with your cunt, two of his slender fingers pulling up to push into your heat. He fills you easily, taking the edge off your desire as his tongue flicks over your clit, unrelenting, hard. He’s eager for it, holding nothing back as he coaxes you quickly towards a high, moaning and grunting into your centre. The vibrations drive you mad, and your mind spins off as he holds you in place.

“S-Shit,” you stammer, back arching. As much as you don’t want to say it, Tom’s already pushing you towards climax. As he curls his slender digits up against you, his tips brush against your g-spot, and it has you seeing stars. “I’m gonna cum, Tom.”

All movements stop. Tom’s mouth pulls back from your cunt, and his fingers still inside you. Your walls clench around him, but he relaxes them, halting all stimulation of your sensitive pussy as you whimper.

“Good,” he coos. Your eyes seek him out, and you moan as you see his chin slick with your juices. “You taste divine, sweetheart.” His free hand strokes over your inner thigh, calming you with gentle circles and caresses. “We’ll do this a few more times, I think. I want you dripping onto the sheets. I want you to forget about everything apart from me, and how desperate you are for me.” His teeth nip at your thigh, and you squirm.

True to his word, Tom works you up, over and over again. Each time he brings you to the edge of a high, he pulls back at the last moment, leaving you teetering on the edge for a painful second before your climax goes ebbing away from your reach. The time it takes to build up to each edge narrows considerably with each completion, and you find yourself growing desperate for more. Your skin is hot and prickles, your forehead breaking into a sweat. The muscles in your legs ache from the exertion of almost spasming into climax, time and time again, and your throat hurts from your eager, desperate moans. He’s a demon, his deep brown eyes watching you closely, sharp ears picking up each noise and sound, and he seems intent on drawing this out for as long as possible.

“I think that’s enough,” Tom finally says. Your sigh of relief is so loud and pronounced that it makes him chuckle. “What, you didn’t like that?” His hand comes down over your inner thigh, slapping softly. As the pain ripples across your skin, you whimper. “Don’t lie to me, angel. I know you love it when I’ve got my head between your legs.” His large hands slip under your thighs, and he pushes you up the bed, slipping up over you. With his body suspended above you and a hand either side of your head, Tom raises his eyebrows. “Open,” he instructs.

What he does next makes your eyes roll back. You open your mouth immediately, and he chuckles darkly. One hand holds your jaw, and you watch as Tom purses his lips, eyes you intently, and then spits directly into your mouth. The taste of your cunt spreads out across your tongue, and your hole clenches around nothing as you moan loudly.

“Swallow,” he says. You close your mouth and do just that, and then you stick out your tongue for him to see. “Good,” he coos. Tom kisses you suddenly, the action hard as he sucks on your tongue. When he pulls back, he kisses your nose. “Pretty girl, aren’t you? My pretty girl.”

His lips skate all across your face, dusting you in warm kisses of reward.

“I love you,” you whisper, wrapping your arms around his shoulders. The gratitude you feel towards him for knowing exactly what you need is boundless, consuming.

“And I love you.” You share a tender moment of understanding as Tom brushes his hand over your face, and in the look you exchange, you know that he feels as you do: appreciation towards your partner, for reading you and obliging you. He hums softly, slipping away from you after a final kiss to pull off his boxers. “Take off your dress for me, love. Give me a show.”

You’re shaky on your feet, but you manage to stand in front of the bed. Tom sits up against the headboard, working his hand over his erect length as he watches you. You tease him, just like you know he enjoys, taking your time as you roll the sleeves down and unzip the back. The material goes tumbling to the floor, pooling at your feet, and then you’re entirely naked - wearing only his hickeys, and his spit between your legs.

“Beautiful,” he says, eyes glinting. “You’re an angel, aren’t you?” When you shrug bashfully, he nods. “My angel. C’mere.” You move to him, but he stops you before you can reach for his cock. “I want you to lie down here and show me how you get off.”

“But I want--”

He shuts you up with a hard stare. “Do you really want to finish that sentence?” When you’re quiet, he hums. You can’t stop staring at the way his hands slide over his length. Your mouth waters at the thought of letting your tongue wander over his leaking tip, collecting the beads of salty precum. “Do this for me, and then I’ll let you have what you want.”

You part your legs, your thighs aching. As you dip your hand between your legs, you whimper to feel your slick mixed with Tom’s spit. Your skin is soaked, and as you nimbly press two fingers into your hole, you find it looser, already stretched from Tom’s exploration earlier. You can feel his eyes on you, watching your hand move as you slowly fuck yourself with your fingers, getting pleasure from the knuckle of your thumb as it brushes up against your clit.

As you begin to whimper, Tom swoops in with his final lesson of the evening. He reaches down, wrapping his hand around yours, guiding your movements. He sets the pace and the angle, speeding up your thrusts. The sound of your wetness sloshing around makes you cry out loudly as he edges you perfectly, like he knows your body better than you.

“You see this,” he mutters, voice husky. “I give you pleasure. It doesn’t matter if it’s my tongue in your cunt, or my fingers, or my cock. This cunt?” He curls your fingers, and they brush up against your g-spot, making you cry out. “This cunt is mine. You are mine.”

You almost lose it right there, the deep husky tones of his dominant voice sending you spinning, but then Tom pulls away. As your walls flutter weakly around nothing, he pats at your hip.

“Hands and knees, darling.”

Your arms shake as you roll over, adopting the position. Again, Tom stands at the foot of the bed, pulling you back until you’re spread open for him. You feel his cock, dragging through your slick folds, teasing your tender clit until your hips jerk forwards. Your bud aches almost painfully, your body pulled tight with an overwhelming need to climax.

“Please,” you beg desperately, dropping your head between your arms. “Please, please.”

Tom’s hand smooths over the curve of your ass, silver ring biting coolly against you, “Does my darling want to feel my cock?”

“Yes, please.”

“Hmm.” Easily, he slips the tip of his cock past your entrance. “I suppose you deserve it,” he teases. “Been such a good little slut for me, haven’t you?”

When Tom finally fucks into you, the moan you release is almost pornographic. He’s been teasing you, over and over, drawing you close to orgasm only to jerk it away from you each time, but now that he’s got his length buried up to the hilt inside you, you know it’s been worth it. Nothing compares to the relief you feel as you realise you’ll be allowed to finish soon, your walls squeezing his cock.

The pace is punishing, and everything blurs together. His hands on your hips, holding you in place, pulling you back rhythmically to meet with his thrusts. As his slick cock pounds into you over and over, his flushed tip nudges against your g-spot. The stimulation makes your eyes tear up, and a few hot tears skate across your cheeks as you whimper and cling to the sheets.

“Fuck, princess, you’re fucking perfect for me, aren’t you?” A hand falls over your bum, and you moan. “So tight and warm. Feels so snug around me, lovie. So perfect.” Tom’s voice comes out firm, but it wavers, and you can imagine the grimace of pleasure on his face. “Always take me so well.” His hand moves to the top of your back, and he pushes you into the bed. Your face buries into the sheets as the angle adjusts, and you gasp loudly as the adjustment means he can rail you harder.

“S-Shit,” you moan. “Love your cock, Tommy. Pl-Please.”

“What do you need?”

You whimper, the power of his thrusts fucking you further into the mattress. “W’nna cum.”

“You can play with your clit then.”

Tears fly down your cheeks, and it feels overwhelming as you nudge a hand between your legs to fondle your bud. Tom’s hands hold your hips, keeping you nice and open for him, and you’re glad for the heavy pressure on your skin. It keeps you anchored down.

“Are you close?” He asks, grunting heavily as he feels your walls squeeze him.

“Yes.”

“I think you deserve to cum, don’t you?” He pauses briefly, cursing lowly, pace faltering. “Let go, darling. Let me feel you squeezing me. I want to feel what I do to you.”

The action of his deep, fast thrusts mixes with your fingers on your clit, and you cum with a loud, quivering scream. Tom holds you down, fucking into you as you spasm and writhe in the sheets, and after a few, mind-numbing moments of pleasure, you feel him follow you with a grunt. His hot speed paints your walls, his noises of heady enjoyment mixing with yours, and it just prolongs your climax.

When you calm down, Tom carefully pulls out from you. You whimper at the loss, feeling a little out of it as he turns you over, pushes you up into the centre of the bed and pulls you on top of him. Your head settles in the crook of his neck, his hands palming over your back as he kisses the top of your head, over and over again.

“So good for me,” he mumbles. Your legs tangle together. You can feel his cum spilling from your hole, dripping down onto him, but he doesn’t seem to care. “My best girl. I love you so much.”

You hum quietly, rubbing your hand over the top of his arm as you whimper. “Love you too,” you manage, voice hoarse.

Tom’s hands cup your face, and he gently coaxes you up until he can meet with your eyes. His fingers brush away the teary residue from your cheeks, and he kisses you softly.

“Mine,” he mumbles against you, smiling into your lips as you hum in agreement. One of your hands folds into his curls, and you feel your heart stirring contentedly in your chest.

“Yours.”

---------

lol. hope you enjoyyyyed :)

I’m intending to do some mob!Tom blurbs next week for mob!Monday, so if you have any concepts you’d like to see, please send them to my ask box!

ask box is open for your thoughts!! I’m dying to know what you think of this... 👀

masterlist linked in bio!

#tom holland punch my lights out challenge ❤️#tom holland #tom holland smut #tom holland x reader #tom holland x y/n #mob!tom #mob!tom holland #mob!tomfic #mm #smut #y/n #y/n use #self insert #self-insert #yeeeeeep #queue

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passionate-reply · 3 years

Video

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This week on Great Albums: Can you really try your hand at being a pop act with a name like “Severed Heads”? Despite a background in experimental, underground industrial music, these Australians made a pretty serviceable go at it. Find out more by watching the video or reading the full transcript below the break.

Welcome to Passionate Reply, and welcome to Great Albums! For today’s installment, I’ll be looking at Rotund For Success, first released in 1989 by the Australian electronic act, the Severed Heads. If you’re familiar with the Severed Heads, you might be aware that some people consider them to be an industrial band. But, as is often the case with such labels, it’s one that the artists themselves would reject--not to mention many listeners and fans, in turn. I, for one, have heard them described as the industrial version of “elevator music,” and while I find that hard to imagine, I can sort of see it. Wherever you might fall on this issue, there are certainly strong elements of both synth-pop and dance music in much of the Severed Heads catalogue--as on one of their best known tracks, “Hot With Fleas.”

Music: “Hot With Fleas”

First released on their 1987 LP Bad Mood Guy, “Hot With Fleas” won some club play in its own time and remains one of the best known Severed Heads tracks. Structurally, it’s a fairly typical Severed Heads composition, combining sample-heavy experimental percussion grooves with a slight hint of a playful melody. Despite its danceability, “Hot With Fleas” also betrays the group’s love for the vile and repulsive, chiefly in its imagery of being infested with itchy parasites. The sense of disgust, combined with the heavy, clattering percussion, together make the strongest case for an interpretation of the music as a part of the industrial tradition. But whatever we choose to call this style, the Severed Heads would take an increasingly pop approach on Rotund For Success--without losing all of those more subversive themes.

Music: “All Saints’ Day”

“All Saints’ Day” served as the album’s opening track as well as its second single. All Saints’ Day is, of course, a feast associated with historical observation of Halloween, which might serve to make the track come across as a little bit “spooky.” The use of squealing or screeching samples here may be an extension of that theme as well. Perhaps the most noticeable difference between “Hot With Fleas” and “All Saints’ Day” is that the latter is much more melody-centered; where “Hot With Fleas” was content to have its melodic hook either buried in the mix, stuttered into oblivion, or both, “All Saints’ Day” feels more like a pop song that happens to have an out-there percussion track. In addition to some fairly clean and pretty synth work, “All Saints’ Day” also seems to take a step back from some of the more perturbed lyricism from earlier in the Severed Heads catalogue, focusing on an individual who seems to struggle with issues of faith. The narrator feels unable to see themselves in the lives of the saints, but also asserts, in the song’s powerful refrain, that they are “willing to believe,” and strive for greatness nonetheless. While not preoccupied with “filth” as “Hot With Fleas” was, there’s still a sort of sinister undercurrent to “All Saints’ Day”: does it imply that the narrator’s faith is an impediment in their life, something that holds them back or prevents them from feeling confident? Religious faith is also the main theme of the album’s best-known single, “Greater Reward.”

Music: “Greater Reward”

Both in its actual chart performance, as well as in structure and style, “Greater Reward” is the closest thing to a pop hit that you’ll find on Rotund For Success. While it has a broad similarity to “All Saints’ Day,” it’s a bit like “All Saints’ Day” with all of its knobs turned up: brighter synth, more toylike percussion, and an enthralling, soaring refrain. “Greater Reward” feels captivatingly confident, almost swaggering--a real feat for Severed Heads vocalist Tom Ellard, whose distinctively thin or frail voice might be compared to that of Neil Tennant, of Pet Shop Boys fame. Another thing that “Greater Reward” seems to have escalated compared to “All Saints’ Day” is its lyrical subtext. Where “All Saints’ Day” portrays a struggling believer, the narrator of “Greater Reward” is perhaps a little too confident in their belief--so zealous that they seem to shun the earthly pleasures of love in favour of the titular “Greater Reward” of the afterlife. It’s easy to see how this track more clearly portrays religion as a net negative, even in the face of its simperingly cheerful melody. The track “First Steps” tackles the theme of religion in a more oblique manner.

Music: “First Steps”

The title of “First Steps” obviously implies the first attempts of a child to start walking, and the song’s remarkably slow, plodding pace also evokes the idea of a hesitant and clumsy attempt at something. It’s tempting to interpret the lyrics of the song as being things that might be told to children when they’re very young, particularly the refrain, “if you tell lies, an angel dies.” This line seems to give a third independent critique of religion: not only can it confuse those who want to do good, and cause people to neglect happiness during the one life they know they have, but it also plays a role in the indoctrination of young children, with this lyric portraying a spectral punishment that awaits wrongdoers. But the real reason people shouldn’t lie is that it harms other people here on Earth...right? In another “fairy tale” turn, the narrator suggests visiting “somebody where love is money,” only to conclude that “you can’t pay yourself, to fill yourself with desire for someone.” Perhaps this is a maxim or cliche, in some other universe. And perhaps it’s true--at some point, no matter what age we are, we have to learn that love isn’t a commodity, but rather a feeling, that can only be freely given. While I’ve emphasized the religious themes on this album a lot, not all tracks on Rotund For Success seem preoccupied with it. Take, for example, “Big Car.”

Music: “Big Car”

With the longest runtime of anything on the album, even without including a separate two-minute track that precedes it simply named “Big Car Intro,” “Big Car” certainly feels like something of a centerpiece for the album. It begins the second side of the LP, and it was released as a single, though to significantly less success than the others. Starting off with a frightful crash of breaking glass, “Big Car” is quick to introduce us to the Severed Heads’ hallmark hypnotic rhythm, and its plaintive, slightly nervous melody. The narrator of “Big Car” addresses someone who has perhaps done them wrong in the past, asking them to visit, and promising them that “never an unkind word need be said, about [their] life overhead.” If “Greater Reward” projected confidence, then “Big Car” suggests fragility, with a narrator who seems to be putting on a happy face to disguise their desperation. A more pop-minded listener might read this as a tale of a lover who’s been cheated on, crawling back to the person who betrayed them. But at the same time, there’s nothing that really suggests that this song is about a romantic relationship between the two. I think a lot of Severed Heads tracks fall into this musical “uncanny valley,” with elements of pop as well as more underground or experimental music, and perhaps to some extent what we choose to interpret in their work has more to do with us listeners than the Severed Heads. At any rate, though it may have some synth-pop DNA, “Big Car” is far from a typical pop song, with its meandering, mostly instrumental structure.

While earlier Severed Heads albums often featured grotesque and gruesome imagery, the cover of Rotund For Success eschews that in favour of an almost pithy or banal design, dominated by a large, floating pumpkin. While an argument could be made linking the pumpkin emblem with the theme of “All Saints’ Day,'' I'm inclined to interpret it as something created to be aggressively and offensively meaningless, like a corporate logo that’s been focus-groupped into a semiotic void. The album’s title perhaps also suggests a meaningless slogan for some useless product, with the word “success” serving as a stand-in for anything and everything that the consumer might desire. Much as the Severed Heads’ earlier work centered the grotesque, musically, lyrically, and visually, the move towards a cheekily trite cover and title mirror the way this album took their sound into a more subtly mocking direction. Overall, *Rotund For Success* is an album that snubs the gory details in favour of making a more abstract commentary, and I think the surface-level prettiness that this album offers makes it an enticing first look at an act with a very complex legacy.

While the Severed Heads enjoyed a perhaps surprising amount of mainstream acclaim with Rotund For Success, as well as a remix of their earlier track “Dead Eyes Opened" at around this same time, they would soon fade back into the obscurity that one generally expects of grotesque and experimental music. Their follow-up LP, the more guitar-curious Cuisine (With Piscatorial), failed to reach the same levels of crossover interest, and it would become their final release on Nettwerk Records before being dropped by the label.

Music: “Estrogen”

My favourite track from Rotund For Success is the enigmatic “LFM.” What does “LFM” stand for? Well, I’m really not sure, but the lyrics of this track suggest that we ought to feel “the power and the glory” of it. Given the religious themes of “All Saints’ Day” and “Greater Reward,” it seems possible that “LFM” is something to put one’s faith in even if we don’t understand it. But whatever it is, this track’s outro is positively sublime, with what sounds like a chorus of chirping birds to play us out. It’s rare that you hear such a nature-inspired sound in industrial music, but it really works well here, and reminds me a bit of Gary Numan’s “Engineers.” That’s all for today--thanks for listening!

Music: “LFM”

#music #industrial #industrial music #experimental music #experimental electronica #severed heads #the severed heads #great albums #album review #album reviews

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bakugou-tm · 5 years

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Bakugou with a T H I C C but also shy s/o, she always covers her body but one-day she wears jeans or somethings and bakugou is like "where did this thickness come from"???

I love this request and I will gladly fulfill it for you

Rating: Slightly suggestive themes at the very end, because how could I not, but mostly fluff and soft bby Katsuki

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Bakugou was never one to care about the way his soulmate looked. That’s one of the many things you loved about him.

This wasn’t to say he wasn’t an ass man, because he was total ass man, or that seeing womanly curves didn’t excite him in the slightest. It’s just he always had been attracted to the personality before the looks, which was surprising with his rather blunt personality.

But that is, after all, how the two of you got together. New to the school your third year, attention grew on you quickly when people noticed you wore a large sweater that fell just above the hem of your skirt to hide your body away from wavering eyes.

After being bullied in elementary school, you had finally had enough. Though, that didn’t mean you didn’t still have those emotional scars attached to you.

Luckily enough, your new classmates were more than welcoming and accepted you even for your odd look. Slowly but surely, people began to grow accustom to your baggy clothing, especially a certain ash blond.

Initially your shy, reserved attitude annoyed him to no end. Bakugou had no patience with those who could even try to defend themselves.

But after being paired up with a project, Bakugou was forced to know your true story and how you had built up these walls around you ever since elementary school.

It was that day that Bakugou realized: He was going to do everything in his power to protect you.

And he did just that.

In good time he grew the balls, Kirishima totally set it up tho, to ask you out to which you happily said yes to. Now after dating for a few months, Bakugou was proud to see you come out of your shell and watch you turn into the bright and bubbly girl you were before you had been harassed in your early years.

The only thing that didn’t change was your baggy attire, but at this point Bakugou didn’t seem to mind. He wasn’t one to judge what others wore, and as long as you were comfortable and happy he couldn’t give a flying shit.

But oh would that change the day he found out what exactly was hiding underneath all those horrendous articles.

Standing before the mirror in your boyfriend’s bathroom, you let out a sigh as you eyed your figure one last time in the spunky outfit.

Today the girls wanted to go out in the city, explore a few shops and get some pictures for the start of summer. While the plans sounded great, you weren’t expecting all of your friends to rally behind your new outfit change.

“C’mon (L/n)-chan, pretty please wear this!” Mina exclaimed with big puppy dog eyes as she gestured to the outfit Momo held in her hands.

Biting at your lower lip nervously, you shyly looked down as you felt your heart beat begin to pick up just a bit faster.

“I..I don’t know... and how could I possibly accept this Momo, it must have costed so much!”

A few girls scoffed at this, Momo even rolling her eyes as they knew full and well Momo and her family weren’t ones to worry about the cost of something.

“Really (L/n) it’s not a big deal, these were in my closet from a few years ago and I never even touched them, they’re better off going to you than some dumpster.”

You hated that you knew she was right, and you hated that you had no more excuses to throw out as your friends expectantly looked at you.

“We know it can be scary (L/n) trust me, I understand.” Jirou said with a caring smile as she placed a hand on your shoulder, “But you can trust us, we know you’ll look good in this and it’ll be much more comfortable to wear in the hot summer sun right?”

She did have a good point. Nodding slowly you grabbed the clothes from Momo, all of the girls squeeling in success as they hugged you tightly.

“We promise you (L/n), you’re going to love your new look!” Hagakure exclaimed, Ochako nodding quickly beside her.

“Annnd if you do like the outfit, we can shop more while we’re out and pick out a few others outfits you’ll like!”

New outfits? For some reason, that made your heart flutter just a bit. But not in a nervous way, in an excited way. She was right.. they were right! It’s time for you to dress the way you’ve always wanted to dress ever since you were little!

‘Now was not the time, definitely not the time.’ You thought to yourself as you gripped at the edges of Bakugou’s bathroom counter.

How were you going to walk out in public like this? With all of those eyes watching! Would they make fun of your muscular thighs? Or your larger bottom? Just the thought of looming glances all on you made you feel like you were going to vomit.

Gritting your teeth, you slowly looked up to your reflection one last time. Even with these negative thoughts poisoning your mind, you had to admit you did kind of look... good.

The pastel blue spaghetti strapped blouse accented your collarbone and toned arms from training, and you admired the softness of it. Plus the V-neck style allowed you to wear a few of your favorite necklaces, one of them given to you by Bakugou a few months ago for Christmas.

The silky blouse tucked in nicely with the dark wash high waisted jeans, the pockets on the back accenting the curvature of your backside and hugging all the right curves that you were able to pull off. Thanks to the high wasted aspect, the ankles of the jeans came up just enough for you to put on your favorite high top converse to bring the look all together.

With your hair tied up in a delicate bun, with the exception of a few hairs coming out, you couldn’t help but smile softly. For once in so many years you felt... beautiful.

Narrowing your (e/c) eyes sharply, you inhaled sharply before grabbing your bag and nodding your head confidently.

“I got this! I can do this.”

And so you did. You stomped out of your boyfriend’s bathroom with an unknown swagger and confidence you never knew you had.

Glancing towards Bakugou’s bed, you noticed his back turned to you as he was searching for something in his closet. Smiling softly at the cute backside of his wild blond tufts, you moved to his desk and double checked your bag to make sure you had everything with you.

“I’m heading out to go meet with the girls downstairs Katsuki, I’ll see you later tonight okay?”

Bakugou slightly jumped at the sound of your voice. Though he would never admit it, you were so good at sneaking up on people. The worst part was, you never even meant to do it.

This time was no exception, the ash blond mumbling a few profanities that went over your head as he searched for another game controller for Kirishima when he was to come over after you left.

Once his eyes finally landed on the controller he snatched it with an annoyed grunt before grabbing his water bottle from the metal shelf and closing his doors.

“Yeah yeah, don’t have a shitty time I guess and don’t get fucking killed, you hear me?” Bakugou spoke, uncapping his water to take a quick swig of it while he turned around to head towards your form, only for his entire body to freeze.

You.. you.. what were you wearing? Actually scratch that, who were you? Where did you get that body from?

Is this seriously what you’ve been hiding from him all these months?! An ass that looked like it had been sculpted from the gods, a (your figure) so perfectly sculpted it practically made him dizzy, beautiful smooth thighs that filled the jeans up just right. From head to toe you looked stunning... like a fucking angel!

Bakugou hadn’t even noticed he had paused halfway through swallowing his water until he bursted into obnoxious coughs, his face growing red as he coughed up the stubborn liquid before his eyes fell back on you once more.

At the sound of his outburst you quickly spun around, your (e/c) eyes widened with concerned as you saw your boyfriend red faced with a wild look in his eye.

“K..Katsuki are you alright?” You questioned softly, as you began to walk over to him until you heard a low growl vibrate past his lips.

Oh.

That’s why his face was so red. That’s what the downright animalistic look in his eyes was. You were so worried about what other people thought, you hadn’t even begun to realize that this was your boyfriend’s first time seeing you without baggy clothing.

“The fuck is this (F/n)?” Bakugou hissed lowly, his vermillion eyes hooded behind his ash blond bangs as he loomed over to you slowly.

You couldn’t bare look into his eyes, your own falling to the ground as you felt all the confidence seep from your body and to the floor.

“I..I.. the girls wanted me t..to wear something different...” You mumbled softly, feeling warm tears bring at the rim of your eyes, “I just thought...”

“You thought what, (F/n)?”

What were you even thinking. Why did you think dressing normally would be any different now? Nobody wanted to see your hideous body the way it was, not even your boyfriend. It would just be best if you hid it all from the world so you didn’t lose everybody you loved.

“I...” Was all you managed to whimper, your eyes squeezing shut to avoid any tears from seeping down your cheeks.

“You seriously fucking thought it was okay to hide this masterpiece from me all this time?”

At this you froze, eyes slowly opening at his comment. So he wasn’t.. disappointed?

Peering up slowly at your boyfriend through delicate lashes, you locked your gaze with his firm vermillion one, not even being able to help your lower lip from jutting out due to your overwhelming emotions,

“H..Huh?”

Bakugou’s intense gaze froze in the moment along with you, his face softening in confusion when he saw the thick layer of tears threatening to spill from your beautiful orbs.

“Wait (F/n), what the hell is wrong?” Bakugou spoke in a gruff, but soft tone as he quickly pulled you into his arms.

Biting at your lip, you let out a soft sniffle before embracing him back tightly.

“Y..You looked at me with such disgust, I thought t..that you didn’t like the way I looked and... and I didn’t want to lose you because of it.”

There was no getting around the immense dread and guilt Bakugou felt after hearing your confession, his eyes squeezing shut as he muttered ‘damn it’ under his breath.

Of course his shocked reaction probably looked like that to you, why wouldn’t it? He totally disregarded your past and how insecure you’ve been.

“No (L/n) that’s not it at all, n’ I’m an asshole for not expressing that,” Bakugou spoke into your hair as he placed a soft kiss on your head before pulling back to look you in the eye, “I was just shocked... all these months I’ve fucking fallen for you and I never even knew how beautiful my girlfriend was.. inside and out.”

Those words were enough to let those fat tears stream down your cheeks, ignoring the long work of makeup you applied to your face.

“K..Katsuki...” You whimpered with a large smile, one that made Bakugou swell with pride.

One calloused thumb swiped across both of your cheeks, a quick ‘tch’ escaping your boyfriend’s lips before he looked away with a blush, “Quit your fucking crying you sappy girl, you’re so damn dramatic.

Giggling softly you pressed a sweet kiss on Bakugou’s cheek, before grabbing your bag, “Thank you Katsuki, I love you.”

At those words, the ash blond couldn’t help but lay his eyes back on your own. A rush of heat flowed through his body, and he couldn’t even help the wild grin that came across his lips, to which he quickly pulled you in for a hug so you couldn’t see his emotions get the better of him.

“Love you too shitty girl...” Bakugou muttered with the role of his eyes before a sly smirk came across his lips.

Now that you were feeling better... there was no way on earth he was letting you get away with not only making him flustered but also daring to show yourself in such a delightful outfit.

Calloused palms traveled down your back, unnoticed by you until you felt the large hands grasp at the curvature of your cheeks, giving your bottom a nice squeeze causing a squeak of surprise to come out of you.

“Now you better come back home soon enough, it’s bad enough you’re going to be out in public with so many shitty extras looking at what’s mine.” Bakugou purred into your ear, his teeth just grazing the edge causing shivers to travel down your spine,

“So hurry fucking back, you know sure as hell I’m going to need to have my way with your sexy ass now shitty girl.”

#bakugou katsuki #katsuki bakugou #bakugou #bakugou x reader #my hero academia #boku no hero academia #shy reader #this was pretty fun to write #reader thicki like nicki >o<

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floating-in-the-blue · 3 years

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Yeo! I can now send you asks because, for reasons I don't understand, sending asks now comes from my dashboard instead of someone's blog. To celebrate, here's some numbers from the list of questions you reblogged this morning: 6, 11, 14, 22, 25 :)

Jenny!! And here I thought it might have something to do with me finally changing my blog’s theme XD But whatever did the trick: YAY and double yay for you not giving up on asking me stuff!! *HUGS* Thank you so much, darling! <3

6. What character do you have the most fun writing?

I usually write characters that are a bit anxious and not too confident and yeah, we’re not gonna analyse that but there’s something about writing characters who aren’t like that, who exist with swagger and without apologies that is definitely fun. Whether they be assholes (Ocelot, Eli) or carefree, fun-loving angels (Willie, Flynn). And I ought to try to write more of them.

11. What do you envy in other writers?

The ability to plot and the ability to do research. I’m hopeless with both due to lack of concentration, laziness, and apparently a lack of criminal energy. The only reason In Your Starlight has managed to get so long is because the plot is entirely internal, i.e. prompted by the character’s feelings and reactions within a restricted environment. I would love to be able to write sprawling stories with lots of enriching details and thrilling plots but ... definitely not my forté!

14. At what point in writing do you come up with a title?

Usually very late in the process, sometimes only in the moment of being confronted with the title box when posting a new work to AO3. I hate having to find titles most of the time (like any other writer I know)!

I think Nature 2.0 was one of the few stories where the title appeared pretty early but then that’s the story that would have needed plotting and research so I unfortunately never finished it ...

22. Do you reread your old works? How do you feel about them?

Yeah. I do. A lot, tbh even though that’s not the popular answer to that, I guess. There are a couple that I skip on the rereads, sure. Those I was never much attached to even while I was writing them and which definitely aren’t among my best. But the rest ... they’re comfort food in a way. I still care about the characters and the stories and knowing exactly how they go, and knowing there’s no pressure of commenting at the end of them (which is a homemade problem, for sure), and greeting some well-loved phrases ... yeah, that’s comforting to me. I’m proud of (most of) my works and worked hard on them and polished them into the best version I could make them and even though I sometimes still spot stuff I would change now, there really isn’t that much of that.

I always hated this trend of ‘rolling over and showing your belly’ that a lot of fanfic authors, especially back in ff.de/ff.net days, did. To preemptively call their own work shit or something so people would be kind to them.

Publishing fanfic on the Internet is a difficult thing, because it requires finding that balance between ‘if you don’t like your work, why should others’ and confidence on the one hand but also a hearty resistance to other people not caring about your work or ignoring it on the other hand. It’s a tricky thing and I definitely struggle with it. But I’ve found it very helpful to become confident of my own work regardless of how others see it. Do I think I’m the best writer ever? Definitely not. But I know I can still be proud of my own work and derive joy from reading it. And I’m glad for the things I’ve put out there.

(sorry, this turned into a bit of an essay ... I just have a lot of feelings about this topic)

25. What part of writing is the most fun?

Definitely when you have a flow and the dialogues just pour out of your characters or your descriptions turn into a bit of poetry and the words feel just right and you remember that writing actually can be fun!

But I also find it extremely satisfying when I’m editing a scene that isn’t really flowing and tweaking a word here, adding a gesture there, maybe adding a few lines of dialogue to get better transitions and then it just works! And there weren’t even that many changes necessary.

Fun Meta Asks for Writers

#yeo writes #yeoyou #writingfloat

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angstlers · 3 years

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@adventures-in-asexuality tagged me to do five songs I’m listening to and for the first time in ever that includes a videogame OST and I hate that so here’s the goddamn list with the game song at the end:

SOFI TUKKER - Good Time Girl (feat. Charlie Barker). I’ve been really into swagger songs lately, people very obnoxiously enjoying being themselves. It’s the energy I want to bring forward into life now. My brain is extremely hooked on the enunciation of the lyric me and my inferiority contest; I’m not winning... but I’m having a very good time. I’m also pretty sure it’s like the title track for season 2 of The Young Pope so I’ve got that to look forward to. Oh yeah I’m watching The Young Pope for the first time, it’s lit.

AJJ - Goodbye, oh Goodbye. I have on and off listened to random songs by AJJ for ages because a lot of dear friends really love them, I occasionally just smash through all of People Who Eat People while working on creative projects. There’s a kind of bittersweet triumph-but-escape-can-only-ever-be-so-triumphant vibe to a lot of their music which tugs me in all sorts of emotional directions. I actually got linked to this one because they did a hysterically funny OK Go parody for the music video. Anyway yeah it’s good.

Fata Boom - Fäsjøn. More swagger song stuff. Fata Boom are very very music you play at house parties junk and it’s vapid but extremely fun and I kind of dig the sense of humour. A lot of pop-adjacent/hip hop people are very funny and I like that. I really want to use this in a like Gearing Up montage in an action story.

Biffy Clyro - Living is a Problem Because Everything Dies. Guess who remembered Biffy Clyro exists this week? I used to listen to them relentlessly when I was 18, how times change. The Scottish stadium-rock band I will always go to bat for because they’re clearly very fascinated in nonsense. They have an entire album based off vibes Simon Neil got from reading a Jeffery Dahmer book he only half-remembers, so many of their lyrics sound like the meaning is only just beyond your reach. If you like David Lynch you should like Biffy Clyro, how’s that for a hot take.

Masayoshi Soken - Fallen Angel. I’ve been playing a lot of Final Fantasy XIV lately. It’s pretty good. I’m just been caught by a riptide of plot and the emotional stakes are going to drag me out to sea, which is funny because I didn’t actually pick Leviathan’s theme for this. Garuda just has the best, most banging boss music I’ve seen in a videogame, I genuinely play it at work all the time now. One of my friends took me to the Extreme version of her fight and I got a magic horse that plays the boss music all the time and I am LIVING.

I will tag @frilthy @thevoiceofentropy @legitfuntimes @weslyphon but if you read this and want to do it just go on man I’m not a cop

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scotianostra · 4 years

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Scottish pop singer/songwriter Dean Ford was born as Thomas McAleese on 5th September 1946 in Airdrie.

You wait all year for a Scottish singer/songwriter to appear, and two come along at once. Dean Ford was one of the most underrated artistes Scotland ever produced.

Tom, as he was still known as back then first began singing in public accompanying a jazz ensemble at the local Whifflet parish church dance hall. He formed his first musical group The Tonebeats at age 13, one of several he hooked up with during his teenage years. By the time he left Clifton High School in Coatbridge at age 15, he had been gaining more exposure as a featured singer. His break came after a performance with the Monarchs at the Barrowland Ballroom in Glasgow in 1963, where he was seen by members of the popular east Glasgow band The Gaylords and subsequently invited to join the group.

McAleese adopted his stage name (a moniker he coined by combining the names Dean Martin and Tennessee Ernie Ford) and The Gaylords were re-christened Dean Ford and the Gaylords. With hopes of achieving more commercial success, Ford and the band relocated to London in 1965. The bands name came from a notorious post war Chicago Gaylords street gang.

Although the band were very popular and despite being crowned ‘Scotland’s Top Group’,they struggled to break through into the big time. The band changed their name in 1966, but although they were well received , they still struggled to make progress, this was despite Jimi Hendrix describing their 1967 song I see the rain, as the 'best cut of 1967, it did however make it to the top of the charts in The Netherlands!

Things started to go their way that year though when they played as Pink Floyds support at London’s Marquee Club, they started mixing it with the likes of The Who, Joe Cocker, Traffic Gene Pitney and The Tremeloes.They still lacked that chart success and CBS threatened to drop the band if they didn’t deliver soon, they famously rejected the song, Everlasting Love in 1967, Love Affair took the song to the top of the charts! Eventually the band had a hit with Lovin’ Things the following year, their follow up fared less well but in 1969 Marmalade became the first Scottish group to ever top that charts with Lennon and McCartney’s Ob-La-Di, Ob-La-Da.

Marmalade went on to have 8 more top 40 hits over the years, my favourite was written by Ford and band member Junior Campbell, Reflections of My Life. Marmalade continue to show up at these 60’s shows but as far as I am aware none of the original band remain.

Dean lived in Los Angeles for much of his later life, but never forgot his routes, recording and releasing his final album, This Scottish Heart just two months before his death, the album of course having a Scottish theme with tracks like Glasgow Road, Bonnie Mary, Made in Scotland and For MacDougall included in the 30 songs, which also featured a remake of my fave Marmalade song, Reflections of my Life.

In 1998 Dean and Campbell were awarded a Special Citation of Achievement by BMI for attaining radio broadcast performances in excess of one million in the U.S. alone.

Dean, Thomas McAleese passed away suddenly on Hogmanay 2018 in Los Angeles, at the age of 72.

A plaque is being unveiled in Whifflet Public Park, Coatbridge today sometime, the ceremony will be a quiet affair due to social distancing.

This Scottish Heart

Hearts of fire in kilts we swagger The lion red on gold Truth be known I miss it much For Scotland's pride is in my blood

Pick your partner For we're dancing the old St. Bernard's Waltz Bonnie lassie, take my hand And I will never let you fall

Gone, gone are the days Of the wild, wild rover A song on his lips for everyone

Now with friends of mine for auld lang syne And Rabbie's words hit home Though sadness comes, the sadness goes This Scottish heart still overflows

Gone, gone are the days Of the wild, wild rover A song in his heart forever

Oh, now, here's to you and here's to me When Rabbie's words hit home Though sadness comes, the sadness goes This Scottish heart still overflows

This Scottish heart still overflows This Scottish heart, this Scottish heart

lScotland, Scotland (Scotland) Scotland, Scotland (Scotland)

#Scotland #scottish #singersongwriter #coatbridge #pop star

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aethelflaedladyofmercia · 4 years

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On Falling and Identity

One thing I’ve fallen out of the habit of doing is elaborate metas based on my fanfics every Wednesday. First I took a long hiatus to finish “What it Means to Be A Demon” and then I started posting it and it was angsty and that made me tired.

Plus, I’ve been posting chapters on Wednesdays, and busy enough that I couldn’t do a post and a meta.

But I have some time today, so I thought I’d share some of my thoughts on Falling and Identity. Because there’s more to “What it Means to Be A Demon” than physically and emotionally torturing Crowley (there’s that, too).

Names

One thing I think we can all agree on: the demons in Good Omens are not using the names they’d had as angels. We have plenty of examples: Cra(o)wley, Hastur, Ligur, Beelzebub, Dagon, even Satan (on the to-do list: re-watch while keeping track of various names used for the devil. I’m trying to remember where the name Lucifer is used outside Crowley’s drunken rant, and even that is a memory of their time in Heaven).

(Fun fact: when I searched the GIFs for “Good Omens Devil” one of the results I got was Gabriel, and...technically incorrect, but still accurate.)

Regardless, none of these really fit the pattern of angelic names (Gabriel, Uriel and Michael are all standard angel names; Aziraphale does fit this phonetically, but the spelling is different; Sandalphon less so, but still a traditionally angelic name). So, disregarding the possibility that angels somehow rebelled and Fell based on the names they already had, it seems clear that they chose new names after Falling.

Were they forced to change their names? Did they forget their original names? Did they voluntarily give them up? We don’t know this, but I’m sure going to speculate!

Crowley, however, is the only one we know who changes his name, from Crawly/Crawley (note it’s Crawly in the book but Crawley in the script book). It’s called attention to very early in both - the first post-Eden scene in book and show is our two maggot husbands lurking in the graveyard, and one of the first things they comment on is Crowley’s name change, “what’s he calling himself these days?”

I find it rather interesting that the demon who changed his name - something notable enough for others to comment on - is also the one who winds up the most independent, the most free-thinking, the most human.

Identity

Names and identity are tied together in Good Omens.

Most notable version of this is Dog, a terrifying hellhound who very abruptly isn’t. And the moment he changes is the moment he receives his name: in the book, his shape changes as Adam describes his ideal dog, but his personality changes at the naming; on the show, everything changes at once.

From the book: “The hound waited. This was the moment. The Naming. This would give it its purpose, its function, its identity.” (page 82)

There’s also the “Form shapes nature” passage on page 132 - in short, now that he looks like a small, yappy dog, he is a small, yappy dog. It can’t just be that simple, though - the Horsepeople (well, 3 out of 4) all spend much of the series walking around in very human bodies, yet their nature doesn’t become more human. So it’s not just being in the form, it’s accepting the form, letting the form be more than just the mask you wear.

So bring this back to the demons. On the series, we see that they have different forms in Hell and on Earth - not radically different, but the Hell version is more extreme.

Beelzebub in Hell

Beelzebub on Earth

Crowley even more so - he appears as a giant snake, as a human with snake eyes, and as...whatever that thing was at the paintball game. It was vaguely snake-y. So we know they have options for how demonic they appear. Whether by choice or some other means, Crowley’s habitual form is the most human. As a result, his actions seem to be the most human.

Importantly, while it might seem fatalistic to say “Names determine who you are, Form determines nature” - both of these are Crowley’s choice (and presumably other demons as well). He doesn’t want to look like a snake, so he doesn’t; he doesn’t think the name Crawly suits him, so he changes it. Changing his name, changing his form, creating his flash bastard persona - these are how he develops his identity. These are how he makes himself into something more than a demonic snake.

Headcanons

So now we get to the part where I explain how this ties into my story, “What it Means to Be A Demon.” I believe everything has at least been hinted at in the story so far, so I don’t feel as much like I’m spoiling my own plot.

Names were lost. I established this earlier in “Early Days,” but Crowley and the other demons can’t remember their original names, they were taken away as part of the act of Falling. For the purposes of “interpreting canon,” both options are plausible (names were taken or names were rejected), but this is the one I felt had more story potential, because it meant:

Identities were lost. This is a little tougher to explain, and I hope I’ve been able to make it clear in the story. The demons are no longer who they were as angels. They can remember their past lives...to an extent. Names and faces slide out of focus, scenes replay without context, they can’t connect things into a coherent story. And the sense of the being they were before the Fall is just...gone. They became No One.

Demons rebuilt new identities. They chose names for themselves, distinguished themselves, built up cults of personality if you will by attracting followers and supporters. Hastur and Ligur, for example, have clearly built their personalities around cruelty and intimidation, but each even has his slightly different brand, such as Hastur’s brutal honesty (a few metas have pointed out that he doesn’t lie, but his truths are extremely cruel). Appearance is also part of this - while the angels have a certain uniformity to their look, the demons each have a different take on the general theme of “humanoid but bestial.”

Demons, especially low-ranked demons, must fight to retain their identities. This is a major part of what’s going on in “What it Means to Be A Demon.” You sort of need other people to acknowledge your identity...this is something you’ve either experienced or not. Whether it’s a gender identity, a sexual orientation, a diagnosis, or just run-of-the-mill interests - when other people ignore, refuse to acknowledge or outright reject something about yourself you know to be true - it f***ing SUCKS. It makes you doubt yourself, it digs away at you, maybe it even makes you conform more to how other people think you should be, because you start to lack the strength to be who you know you should be, or makes you feel like a failure because you can’t be who they want you to be. In the story, Crowley (still Crawley, as it’s around 2400BC) is abused and tortured, but he’s also forced to take shapes based on what others ask of him; he’s told how to present, how to dress, where to go; the other demons even call him “Crawly” which sounds exactly the same but isn’t a name and trust me in these circumstances you can tell. And it wears away at him, makes him question who he is. Destroys the identity he’s built for himself

When they lose their identity, they become...something else. This is not really based on anything specific from the show, except the endless hordes of seemingly mindless demons in Hell. But if their identities are something they must fight to hold on to, what happens when they lose them? In my story, I’ve presented two options: the Nameless (basically mindless bodies who go where directed, do as told, don’t speak, don’t react, no signs that they even think), and Chaotic ones (imagine a Hellhound in human form - instead of mindless obedience, mindless violence). This is the fate that the demons - that Crowley - fight to avoid.

Crowley is not going to let this happen. I’m dead center in this story, so sorry if this is too much of a spoiler, but I did mark it Canon Compliant. The demon who makes an Arrangement with an angel, the demon swaggering around Shakespeare’s Globe, or performing daring Bastille and Nazi Church rescues, who asked for Holy Water because he was going to fight Hell if he needed to - that Crowley is not a demon under existential threat of oblivion. In “What it Means to Be A Demon,” his identity is under threat, because of the things he feels he needs to do to physically survive. But his story arc for this portion of the overall series is all about Crowley finding his identity, and forcing Hell to acknowledge it, one way or another. And over time - he changes to Crowley, he adopts Anthony and Anthony J as his names, his sense of style becomes more elaborate, more personalized, his possessions more solidly representative of his self. And, ultimately, he creates an identity that is strong enough to go against Hell.

So, those are some of my thoughts on DEMONS and FALLING and IDENTITY. I have mentioned that I have a lot of them. ;) If my ideas intrigue you (and if you have a strong stomach for angst and abuse), I hope you will check out my story! Here’s the link one more time:

Read it on AO3! (Rated T for violence, language, and potentially triggering scenes)

Here’s the whole series! (All but two stories are rated G, so if you prefer something lighter...)

#good omens meta #good omens prime #crowley #anthony j crowley #ineffable demon (crowley)#good omens hell #good omens fanfiction #good omens headcanons #ao3 link #sawdust of words #i wrote this instead of shoveling out my car #now i should probably go shovel out my car before it gets dark #oops too late

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impalementation · 5 years

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Not sure if you’ve talked about it before because I couldn’t find anything from tags but, what’s your opinion on Faith in each season and her dynamic with Buffy?

I’ve gotten a couple different asks in this vein! Sorry for taking so long to answer them, this response got out of hand. Consider this my official thoughts on Faith. Putting it under a cut because it got long.

I think Faith is a crucial addition to the show. Admittedly, she isn’t someone I spend a ton of time thinking about, but that doesn’t mean she isn’t interesting or important. I like Faith for two reasons: first, for how she affects Buffy, and second, for how she ends up transcending the role of “someone who affects Buffy.”

Regarding the first, a lot’s been said about what a classic foil she is, as well as how she’s an example of doppelgänger-type anxiety. Faith is someone that, simply by existing, makes Buffy conscious (even possessive) about her identity, in ways she’s never been before.

Which is one of the big themes of season three: Buffy’s relationship to identity, especially slaying as an identity, and slaying as a symbol of identity. In Anne Buffy abandons her slayerness, abandons her life and name, and fights a villain that literally takes away its victims’ personhood (“Who are you?” “No one.”). She loses her powers in Helpless. Her slayerness makes her an object of social retribution in Gingerbread, and a hunted animal in Homecoming. In Lovers Walk she toys with the idea that she could leave Sunnydale and have an identity that doesn’t have to do with killing demons.

And then you have Faith, a slayer who is presented as an alternate version of/path for Buffy. When Kendra was introduced, the show didn’t do much to emphasize what she and Buffy had in common; if anything, the show emphasized the ways they were different. Kendra was more rulebound, less social, and had accepted the idea of being a slayer a long time ago. Whereas Faith regularly plays up her and Buffy’s similarities: “We’re slayers, girlfriend. The chosen two.”, “You know it could be you.” Buffy herself admits that “it could be me.” I think it’s pretty deliberate that Buffy in The Wish has a jaded, Faith-like swagger. Or that the season features the concept of alternate-universe selves in general.

(That said. Despite the fact that I don’t see Buffy and Kendra as foils to the degree that Buffy and Faith are, I do think season three features Faith for much the same reason that What’s My Line introduced Kendra: both are about being at a crossroads of identity. Buffy in The Wish is a bit like Kendra too.)

I posted before about how seasons three and four introduce the idea of Buffy making choices about who she wants to be, rather than choices about who lives and dies. And how Faith is central to that. Faith makes Buffy aware of choice by (a) being a slayer, meaning that unlike any other character, she’s under the same constraints that Buffy is, (b) openly having desire for things (food, sex, slaying), © making different choices than Buffy, and (d) tempting Buffy to use her powers non-heroically, whether in the Bad Girls sense, or by forcing Buffy to potentially kill her in Graduation Day. Also, by encroaching upon things that Buffy considers “hers”, like her friends, lovers, or family, Faith clarifies for Buffy that she even considers anything “hers” at all. In other words, she makes Buffy notice both her identity as it is, and her identity as it could be.

But for all that Faith has nice symbolic and dramatic reasons to exist, what I actually really like about the way the show uses Faith is that she becomes a character in her own right. It ties into the show’s existentialist themes in a really effective way. I know, I get tired of myself as soon as I bring up the existentialist stuff, but I don’t think it can be understated how existentialist Buffy is. It’s why Buffy is a vampire slayer specifically, even though most of the time she isn’t even fighting vampires. She’s a vampire slayer because vampires are the opposite of existentialism. They’re nihilism. They’re thieves of agency, identity, and life. By virtue of lacking souls, they are incapable of moral choice. They don’t age, they don’t mature. They’re the opposite of “growing up.” They fill the open-ended eternity of their existence with destruction and death.

(You might point to Spike and Darla as exceptions to this vampire symbolism, but I genuinely don’t think they are. Both characters realize that their vampiric nature causes harm to those they love, and this realization leads both characters to self-destruct. Darla by staking herself, and Spike by getting a soul…which also results in his death a season later. Them achieving the ability to make a true moral choice leads directly to them ceasing to exist as soulless vampires.)

To bring this back to Faith, I see something vampiric in the concept of a doppelgänger or foil, the idea of this empty vessel that takes your identity because they have none of their own. Someone whose identity exists only as a reflection of someone else’s. A grasping, black hole of self.

The problem is, a real person can’t be a foil. That’s a literary construct. In real life, seeing yourself as a reflection or extension of someone else just means that you’re afraid of creating your own identity. Maybe for good, understandable reasons, and maybe not. Who Are You? is one of my favorite episodes because it makes this problem explicit. It turns Faith from an abstract foil figure into someone who literally steals Buffy’s identity, and is shown to not have a solid sense of self. I posted earlier about the similarities between Anne and Who Are You?, but I like those similarities not just because they create thematic continuity around identity-related ideas. I like them because there’s this kind of awful, tragic irony to the fact that even Faith’s identity crisis episode uses pieces from Buffy’s arc.

Speaking of using pieces from Buffy’s arc, I also love the way that Buffy’s role in Who Are You? mirrors Faith’s role in season three. Just as Faith threw Buffy’s identity into relief, Buffy now throws Faith’s identity into relief. Being Buffy frees Faith to act in ways she wouldn’t ordinarily let herself, and being treated as Buffy forces Faith to confront whether she actually does or doesn’t want to be treated in those ways. You might say that by fully confronting the ways that she sees herself in terms of Buffy, Faith is able to start moving beyond it. The episode is basically an exorcism of Faith’s foil-ness.

Unfortunately I can’t speak very well to Faith’s arc on Angel since I haven’t seen most of it. Just Five By Five and parts of Sanctuary. But there are a lot of things I like about Faith’s return in season seven. I love that in her introduction she asks whether she’s “the good slayer now”, and when she and Buffy talk in End of Days she tries to pull a “maybe we couldn’t exist at the same time” thing. Because she’s literally talking about herself like she’s a literary device. But by this point she’s also developed enough that it’s only semi-serious; she’s quick to accept Buffy’s point that no, her choices were her own.

I think it’s perfect that season seven includes Faith, because season seven involves Buffy once again grappling with choice, and what it means for her to be the slayer. I think it’s perfect that Faith gets the opportunity to finally understand Buffy’s loneliness, and that the two of them are able to commiserate about being “hot chicks with superpowers.” Because it’s them finally getting to have their slayerness just be something that they have in common. Instead of this big complicated identity thing. It foreshadows Chosen, and the way that being a slayer goes from being something that isolates Buffy, to something that Buffy can share with people. I also really like the reversal of the fact that in Empty Places Faith isn’t the one who wants to take Buffy’s leadership away from her. She no longer wants to take Buffy’s role or Buffy’s friends. Instead it’s everyone else that is determined to perpetuate the idea that only one of them can be in charge, or that Buffy can be replaced. It fits with the way that the season frames isolation as not just a personal problem, but also a social and systemic problem. Even though Faith has grown past many of her issues, that doesn’t mean that the people around her have, or that the fundamentally, systemically solitary nature of being a slayer has changed. See also: Andrew mythologizing Faith’s background, and Caleb calling her the “Cain to [Buffy’s] Abel.” Of course it would be an avatar of the First that tries to get Faith to see herself as an archetype again.

Other things I like: The fact that Faith reveals to Spike that she was in Buffy’s body, because it’s yet another case of her finally owning up to being herself, instead of a reflection of Buffy. The fact that when the night out goes badly in Empty Places, it’s not because of anything that Faith did (that night), the way it was in Bad Girls. The fact that Buffy hands Faith a blade as an expression of trust in Chosen, a reversal of gutting her with a blade in Graduation Day.

Overall I just think it’s a really cool statement on identity that the character who was introduced to give Buffy identity issues, then has to go on her own search for identity. No one in Buffy is exempt from the project of self-creation, least of all the vampires and the doppelgängers. But it’s especially appropriate that Faith go on that journey because she’s a slayer, and slaying is arguably a metaphor for existential striving. It would be weird if she didn’t grow, really. She’s the rare case of the female redemption arc, especially a redemption arc that doesn’t involve her becoming less violent or sexual (or dead) afterwards. Just less unethical about it. She gets to play that role in a more-or-less gender-neutral way, the same way Buffy gets to be a hero in a more-or-less gender-neutral way. Buffy and Faith both start out as archetypes, and both end up humanized in a way that transcends and complicates those archetypes.

[Your ask didn’t mention Buffy/Faith, but a couple others did, so: as far as Buffy/Faith goes, my feelings are the same as most Buffy pairings, which is that I don’t personally have any investment in it, but I can certainly see the appeal. It sounds like a fun thing to ship. I would’ve been totally on board from a story/character perspective if the show had ever tried to make them non-subtextual. Partly because I’d be on board with anything, as long as it was interesting. But also because I can see it making a lot of storytelling sense, given that Faith’s whole job is to shake up Buffy’s sense of identity.]

#btvs #please clap i spent too long on this #buffy #faith #gen

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webcricket · 5 years

Text

Remember Rio; or, What is Love

Characters: CastielXReader ft. Dean Winchester

Word Count: 1984

Summary: Castiel has some hesitations early on in your relationship. Thankfully Dean is there to kick him in the ass. One confused celestial, non-explicit talk about sex, cowboys, and kisses.

Dean hoists a dry-rot ridden wooden box to waist-level and hurls it unceremoniously at the floor. The container collapses in on itself upon impact, contents skittering amok in a cloudburst of dust.

Several of the larger knickknacks cease their tumble at Castiel’s feet. He doesn’t bother to look down, too absorbed in inner turmoil of thought to pay any heed to them or Dean’s growing frustration.

The hunter isn’t annoyed about the frantic search through someone else’s collection of crap, it’s in the job description. What he is annoyed about is the angel’s brooding. And Cas happens to still be standing in the exact same spot he dallied in the last time Dean turned around from his present task of tossing a storage shelf in this dimly lit basement in search of some a cursed trinket Sam said they absolutely positively needed to destroy to save the world. Dean has as yet unspoken reservations about the merit’s of his brother’s claim and the moping celestial both. He picks up a delicate vase next – an intricate pattern of pink flowers and thin bright green vines laces the rim – and intentionally drops it arching a speculative brow when the angel doesn’t so much as flinch at the tinkle of shattering porcelain.

Boiling impatience pries apart the bite of the hunter’s tongue. “What the hell, man?” he grumbles. “Are you planning to just stand there all night or are you gonna help me find this damn totem?”

Cas blinks, blues resolving into focus on his friend. “Sorry, I was thinking about the other night.” The other night in question being the night of your third official date with the angel and the very same night you jumped his celestially articulated bones only to have him proceed to politely excuse himself mid-makeout session just when things got heated enough to warrant the peeling off of clothing, leaving you winded, wanton, and clutching his trench coat.

“Come on, you’ve been thinking for three days about something that requires zero thought and all the action.” Dean quells a reflexive roll of his greens, stepping over the glittering shards to clasp him roughly by the shoulder. “What are you so worried about anyway? You’ve done the deed before. With that reaper-” Dean scratches at his chin. “Amy, no-”

The angel respires a beleaguered sigh as Dean runs through a list of potential names. Cas has been trying to winnow down the reasons why he fled for days. It’s not because he’s a fully-functional powered-up angel of the Lord again and all the supposed sexlessness that formality entails. He’s equipped to satisfy a partner in every way a human can, and divinely more. He’s definitely physically attracted to you, so his vessel becoming aroused isn’t a barrier. He wants to please you any way he can, and he understands it’s clear you want to take the relationship to the next step in pursuit of that pleasure. No matter how much he thinks about it, he can’t quite pinpoint the source of his hesitation.

“April!” Dean hits on the correct name with an enthusiastic note.

Cas glares – April not being an entirely pleasant memory considering she killed him.

“What?” Dean shrugs, expression wholly unapologetic in amusement. “For Chuck’s sake, what’s there to think about? It’s not a freaking apocalypse. No one’s life is in danger. It’s just sex.”

“It’s different.” Cas’ jaw tenses around the words. “With April, it was just sex. With Y/N, it’s … different.” He repeats himself for lack of a better descriptor.

“Different how?” Dean squints, closely examining the angel’s stymied expression. He interprets therein the folds of his brow a light bulb revelation. “Well smack my ass and call me Sally, you’re in love!” Dean exclaims, overly triumphant in the revelation.

Cas’ gaze startles wide, creating a mountain-like crag of creases across the ridge of his forehead, then narrows precipitously into the softer ill-defined flatland of genuine bewilderment. The part about loving you is the least confusing aspect of the statement and he accepts it without qualm – with a passive wave of relief even in response to the exact sort of different he could not explain a mere moment before – the reason for the rest of the hands-on proposition to slap Dean’s derrière whilst referring to him as Sally is beyond angelic comprehension. “Why would I-”

“Shut up.” Dean interjects, holding up a quieting finger, halting the inevitable query of why Dean would require Cas to do any of the aforementioned buttock spanking and name-calling and whether this is the appropriate time or place for such an activity.

You choose that instant to mosey on into the dank cellar scene. Cas and Dean bickering like an old married couple about what you assume to be utter nonsense is nothing new; you’d be worried if they weren’t verbally sparring, static silence on either of their parts rarely bodes well. “Whatcha guys talkin’ ‘bout?” you ask with vague disinterest, surveying the mess for any sign of the totem.

Cas casts Dean a swimmingly deep blue puppy-eyed plea to say nothing.

Dean ignores the appeal. The hunter’s eyes twinkle more than they have right to in the poorly illumined basement; a confident smirk creeps across his face. Bulky biceps tighten the fabric of his grey Henley shirt as he crosses his arms in preparation for the unsolicited relational pot stirring in which he is about to partake. “Sex,” he states, louder than necessary; the sharpness of the single syllable slices the humidly heavy atmosphere; the thick foundation of the walls absorbs any attempted reverberation.

“Nothing,” Cas’ simultaneous utterance muddles Dean’s answer; the decibel of his voice sinks to an Earth-quaking grumble. Blues taking on a chagrinned shade, he shoots his friend a betrayed glower.

Re-crossing his limbs, Dean scowls in recrimination. “Really? You were feeling different about it minute ago. And now … nothing?”

Your mouth gapes into the shape of an unspoken oh. This, this could explain why Cas bolted the other night and hasn’t been able to look you in the eyes since let alone stay in the same room alone with you for more than an awkward minute. You always had your suspicions about their so-called profound bond and standing on the outside looking in it appears you’ve interrupted the discussion of a secretive tryst half of the liaison isn’t ready to openly chat about. “Maybe I should leave you two alone then,” you mutter, failing to disguise the disillusionment lowering your tone.

“You should really stay for this, sweetheart,” Dean reassures, reaching out to catch you by the wrist before you can turn to leave. “It involves you.”

You glance from his gleaming greens to his clutching fingers to Cas’ averted blues and back. You snort a light laugh, one imbed with false lightness of spirit in affront to the crush of disappointment you feel, and swat Dean’s gentle grip loose. You pursue the path of lashing out in lieu of letting either of them see your pain. “Look Dean-o, I don’t care what you think I said when we split that bottle of tequila last summer in Rio and passed out drunk on the balcony, I’m not interested in a cowboy themed threesome with you, or anyone else for that matter.” You direct the last bit at the angel who seems set on stolidly avoiding the interaction in favor of staring at the dusty-beamed ceiling.

Dean’s mouth mutely opens and closes in a vain attempt to formulate a rebuff; his cheeks warm to a freckled tint of pink. He doesn’t remember sharing that particular frolic of a fantasy with you, but also acknowledges with a bob of his head and a swallowed hmm that it sounds like something he could’ve admitted to in uninhibited drunken fervor. Because his best coping skill for embarrassment involves embracing the injurious fact with bombastic confidence, he accepts your personally revealing slight in Dean-branded stride. “First off little lady, you have no idea what you’re missing out on. And secondly,” he begins to recall several small snippets of detail, “it wasn’t tequila, it was RumChata.”

Your eyebrows lift. “That’s your take away from that night?”

“Yes. That, and your apparent fetish for ass-less chaps.”

It’s your fault for daring him to remember to stage his self-defense. “Thanks for the reminder.”

“Happy to oblige.” Dean takes a swaggering stride backward and bows. “I’ll leave you two to talk.” His pointed glare toward Cas effectively wields the departing verb as a strong suggestion and prompts you to recall the angel of your affection has been standing there wordlessly observing the entire exchange.

Conversationally contagious blush accosting your cheeks now, you cede to a compulsion to fill the weighty silence between you and the seraph with a throaty hum that never quite evolves into intelligible speech.

“I’m sorry.” Cas speaks first.

You peer up from studying your shoes, shod toes poking the sole of the foot opposite, to take in his fondly tempered features. The intensity of tenderness conveyed in his steady regard somersaults your stomach and frees a flock of butterflies whose fluttering wings unfold inside out to caress your skin with a pleasant shiver; these three days past you missed this sensation only he causes and which you hope never to grow accustomed to.

Given he failed to comprehend the bulk of the interaction he just witnessed, he steps nearer and clarifies for both your sakes the part for which he is apologetic. “Sorry about leaving so suddenly the other night when there was, uh, an expectation of” –his hands seek refuge in his pockets “-um, intimacy.”

“Oh, Cas” –you dive into the hooks of his arms, wrapping the rigid pillar of his vessel in a hug while keeping a carefully calculated platonic distance of a little over an inch between the press of your bodies “-there’s no expectation. No pressure. I just thought, I mean, you seemed into it so I-”

Fingers circling your shoulders, he dips you backward in order to meet your gaze as he speaks, “I was – am – ‘into it,’ as you say. I’ve thought of little else since that night except for how I might explain my retreat and earn your forgiveness.”

“There’s nothing to forgive.” You assuage his worry, assuming the explanation is forthcoming.

Broad palms smoothing to your spine, he pulls your pliant body close to banish the cushion of non-romantic space you created solely for his benefit and for which he determines there is no obvious benefit. Kissing first the top of your head, he perches his chin upon your lovingly consecrated crown. Exhaling a heated breath into your scalp, his lips move against the silken locks of your hair. “Dean, in his way, helped me understand a feeling I’ve struggled to identify. When it peaked that night – overwhelming, exhilarating, the height of a foreign precipice I could equate only with a sense of uncontrollable falling – I feared the unknown dangers it posed to you.”

“To us,” you correct. “We’re either together in this, or we’re-”

“Us,” he firmly agrees before you can finish; the hint of a smile touches his stoic pout.

Wriggling in his delightfully confining grasp, you wind your arms around his neck; anchoring your wandering fingers into the chestnut curls overlying his nape, you guide his forehead down to rest against yours. You know the feeling well to which he alluded; the terror, too, of a new love.

“Love,” he echoes the sentiment coloring your mind. “Yes, love.”

You shudder in surprise against the perceived incursion upon your thoughts and scold him with a mock-scowl.

Again seeking absolution, he teases you with the feathery brush of a kiss upon the side of your mouth; gratitude wells in his angelic heart when you give chase to his lips in order to seal and solidify your devotion despite his missteps; missteps of which he is certain there will be many yet to come.

Castiel tag list: (Closed, if you’d like to be removed please let me know!) @jeepangel @sammiesamness @willowing-love @roxy-davenport @blueicevalkyrie @im-the-nerdiest-of-them-a11 @thesugargalaxy @bluetina-blog @dont-trust-humanity @afanofmanystuffs @honeybeetrash @bucky-thorin-winchester @superwholockz @tistai @wordstothewisereaders @gill-ons @mrswhozeewhatsis @marisayouass @stone-met @castiel-savvy18 @samualmortgrim @trexrambling @magnificent-mantle @kdfrqqg @xdifsx @moon-and-stars-cas @mandilion76 @rockfairy @peaceloveancolor @unicorntrooper @anisolatedship @itsilvermorny @aditimukul @kudosia @goofynerd-67babylove @uninspirationalsonglyrics @gray-avidan @mishascupcake @mishapanicmeow @praisecastielamen @roseyhxnt @jessikared97 @let-the-imaginationflow @warriorqueen1991 @sebastianstanslefteyebrow @hisnameisboobear @kristendanwayne @fuschiarulerinthebluebox @coolpencilpie @jenabean75 @luciathewinchestergirl @morganas-pendragons @heyitscam99 @fangirl-and-stuff @selahbela @realgreglestrade @splendidcas @pointlesscasey @i-larb-spooderman @thewhiterabbit42 @thelostverse @castieliswatchingoverme @beccollie18 @dragonett8 @dixie-chick @jtownraindancer @carowinsthings @passionghost @sherlockedtash88 @futureparent @gabbie7-11 @myfandomlife-blog @dreamerkim @shamelesslydean @earthtokace @neaeri @justanormalangel @lone-loba @supernaturalymarvel @lilrubixx @wings-and-halo @thehoneybeecastielfollows @musiclovinchic93 @81mysteriouslyme @the-bottom-of-the-abyss @jaylarkson @pixiedusts @spookysculderfiles @laqueus-ludovicus @missjenniferb @lexininja @jessiekay2010 @skrratata @rhiannonj79 @calicat79

#castiel x reader #castiel x you #castiel imagine #spn x reader #castiel fluff #castielxreader #castielxyou #cas x reader #cas x you #reader x castiel #you x castiel #cricket writes cas

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atamascolily · 4 years

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lily liveblogs the “terminator: dark fate” trailers

Teaser trailer:

Ohhhhh, we open with soft piano on a speeding highway, just like Judgement Day, it’s been two seconds, and this trailer GETS me

V/O of the new protagonist, explaining about how her life is now a nightmare - I'm so sorry kiddo, it’s probably only going to get worse.

angelic choir singing with soft piano, so ethereal...

.. and a truck plows through a wall. Good times.

a man is now crooning in a throaty voice, and it's minor key, and it's so deliciously subdued and creepy juxtaposed with all the mayhem on screen omg omg omg

New Terminator is driving the truck with some sort of plow device through the highway, cars are flying everywhere, MacKenzie Davis flips into the back of a pickup truck at full speed, and it's amazing

she tosses a piece of rebar through the windshield of the semitruck as the singer croons, "I am not stopping," and she hits him, but then he uses the bar to congeal and pull himself forward until he's standing on top of the engine OH MY GOD he has multiple bodies holy fuck asfghkdkdgk he's simultaneously driving the truck AND fighting her HOLY HELL THAT's CREEPY AS *FUCK*

This scene will probably be loud and epic in the actual film, but it's so eerie and quiet here...

New!Terminator throws the rebar back at Grace, and it slices her arm, and you can see she's literally metal as fuck because she doesn't bleed, and the wound gleams...

cut to her grabbing Dani and jumping from the pickup cab just as it gets smashed to pieces by an oncoming car

God, Gabriel Luna has that dull-eyed stare down. They're on the highway, his hand shifts to a sword-blade, singer croons "I am a hunter.... I'm going hunting..." as he runs towards them...

OH AND THE OTHER PART OF HIM, THE PART THAT LOOKS LIKE A NAKED C-3P0 IS *ALSO* stalking them AHHHHHHH

An SUV pulls up. Dramatic boot cut and we see it's Sarah Connor. With sunglasses (signifying dubious morality and capacity for extreme violence) in a bulletproof vest and a GIANT FRICKING GUN oh my god.

She shoots the human-looking Terminator, who runs towards her... only to switch to a FREAKING BAZOOKA, I CAN'T EVEN.

(this is everything I've ever wanted and I don't care if the rest of this movie is awful, I will never be OVER this)

She hits the metal!Terminator dead-on and he explodes. Grace's astonishment as she turns to see their rescuer is amazing as the smoke clears to reveal Sarah, aiming the bazooka at them....

Cut to a dodgy motel room, where Grace and Dani are trying to figure out who this woman is. Sarah just tilts her head sidewise and we immediately cut to black and AHHHHHHHHHHHH IT'S SO PERFECT

angelic choir intensifies

aerial shots of the desert. Sarah has a voice-over. You can hear the disdain in her voice when she says to Grace, "Never seen one like you before. Almost a human."

Shots of medics (?) tying grace down and poking at her wounds as Grace breaks free. Cut to a naked Grace attacking police officers. "I am human!" Grace protests in voice-over

"I am a hunter.... I'm going hunting." OH SO CREEPY AND PERFECT LYRICS. Helicopters over desert scrublands (ok, probably chapparral, don't get me started).

Grace asks Sarah "Why do you care what happens to her?"

"Because I WAS her." WHAM. OH MY GOD YES YES YES IT'S PERFECT.

They walk through the woods to a cabin, open the door, and... it's old!Arnold! Can I just say how grateful I am to see him as older, instead of all this creepy de-aginging CGI?? Honestly, I like him much better here than I ever did in the first two films - but it looks like he might also be way more human now, too.

Dramatic chase scenes. Terminator with slashing blades in a crowd. PLANES THERE ARE PLANES THE CLIMAX FEATURES GIANT JUMBO JET PLANES THIS IS NOT A DRILL.

now the planes are RAMMING EACH OTHER, TERMINATOR IS JUMPING FROM PLANE TO PLANE, GRACE AND DANI ARE CLINGING FOR THEIR LIVES WHO THE *FUCK* IS FLYING THIS THING (is it the T-800? is it Sarah? some poor random dude? I DEMAND ANSWERS)

Dani and Grace and Sarah are sitting in darkness. Dani asked "How do we win?" Sarah looks over at Grace. Grace says, "By keeping you alive."

Cut to Grace battling with the Terminator with a metal axe HOLY FUCK.

Watching his face shift from metallic to Diego Luna's dead-eyed stare is so FUCKING CREEPY y'all THEY NAILED THIS.

Black. Film title. Singer croons, "I'm going hunting..."

11/10, this is everything I could have hoped for, like a professionally done fanvid, I LOVE EVERYTHING ABOUT THIS. PERFECT MUSIC AND FILM CHOICES, I will be humming this song for the rest of my LIFE

____

Okay, so that was great. Let’s go to the official trailer.

Sarah Connor points a gun at Grace in the crappy motel. "Talk. Talk fast." Grace disarms her and pins her against the wall. "You first," Grace whispers. No sign of Dani.

First bars of Terminator theme. Sarah surrounded by flames. Sarah's voice over: a recap of the events of Judgment Day, as we see human skulls on a beach as metallic new Terminators emerge from the ocean and began firing. "Enough of a resume for you?" Sarah challenges.

"No," Grace says. "You may have changed the future--but you didn't change our fate."

OH MY GOD, I LOVE THIS. Poor Sarah. Poor everyone. But yeah, "there is no fate but what we make for ourselves," has ALWAYS been a rallying cry, not a statement of objective fact. GLAD TO SEE THIS FILM WILL EXPLORE THIS.

The new hunter-killer terminators attack in the future--they can split into multiple bodies controlled by one intelligence, this is so frikkin' creepy and lethal, I can't even--

Electric ball of a Terminator descending in what looks the courtyard of an older Mexican apartment complex. Naked Gabriel Luna! Still with that dead-eyed, inhuman stare. He's muscular, but not defined like the original T-800 or even Kyle Reese... like he's liquid. SO WELL DONE.

Grace is defending Dani on the highway with her body and a piece of rebar. "I know you're scared, but I am here to protect you." YAY UPDATE AND TRYING TO BE GENTLE ABOUT THE WHOLE BUSINESS, YESSSSS.

Sarah's and Grace's exchange from the first teaser about Grace's humanity. Grace adds... "just enhanced," as a clarifier. The "Why do you care what happens to her / Because I was her" exchange. I LOVE IT.

We see them meeting the T-800, and this time Sarah tries to shoot him in the face. Grace shouts "Sarah!" and stops her. Ooooookay. So Sarah and old!Terminator are NOT friends, good to know...

Sarah shoots the porch roof. T-800 deadpans, "I can see you're very upset." OMG THIS IS GOING TO BE GOOD.

Grace steps on a button. All sorts of holographic things pop up around the house. Mines? Traps? No idea.

T-800 continues, "I am going to help you protect the girl." Cut to all four at a backyard shooting range with Dani shooting a rifle. FUCK YEAH I LOVE IT.

"Nobody else is going to die because of me!" Dani screams. Oh, honey, I'm so sorry, but that's probably not true.

Sarah and Dani are in a helicopter. The Terminator leaps for them, as Sarah shoots him. I think Sarah is also flying the helicopter? No wonder the new Terminator gets a plane to go after them.

"If you don't make it, everybody dies!" Grace shouts back to Dani as everything goes up in flames.

Cut to: Gabriel Luna in a Border Patrol uniform at a security checkpoint. The guard banters with the Terminator as he surrenders his gun. "My whole body is a weapon," the Terminator says with a very human swagger and wink. “Save it for the ladies,” says the guard.

the pun here OMg i can’t even.

The Terminator walks through the metal detector and all the lights go off.

"Sorry," says the Terminator, before we cut to him slashing his way through a crowd of agents and civilians. Grace battles him with a chain. She slices him in half, but it's clearly not going to take.

"When it's all over," Sarah challenges the old!Terminator, "I am going to kill you."

"I understand," he replies.

Lots of explosions. Car chase. Helicopter. Fiery planes going down. Arnold grabbing the other Terminator, pinning him down, and shooting him in the face multiple times. When the shooting stops, there's no flesh on his face, only metallic parts and glowing red eyes. CREEPY AS FUCK.

Title card. Cut to the highway bridge. Sarah drops a grenade over the edge, as Grace grabs Dani. "I'll be back," Sarah deadpans, and strides away as Grace runs for cover with Dani. The grenade explodes. Sarah doesn't even break stride, just grabs another gun, as Grace shields Dani from the explosion with her body

AHHHHHHH. AMAZING.

So I give this a 8.5/10, because while it's a perfectly effective trailer and explains the story very well regardless of how many films you've seen, it doesn't have that perfectly creepy blending of music and imagery like the teaser. I don't like the opening as much, since Sarah's first introduction to the audience should be her as a badass, not her getting taken down. But hot damn, does it make up for that will all the great lines. Sarah is obviously still Chaotic Good/fighting with all her issues, and I'm looking foward to all the drama between the characters.

Also, I watched some other promotional material: not a ton of new stuff, but apparently, they did let Sarah Connor say “fuck,” which I approve of.

EDIT: I wrote “Diego Luna” instead of “Gabriel Luna” by mistake because of Star Wars, which is an embarrassing but also kinda hilarious mistake to make.

#terminator #terminator: dark fate

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addytheheartbreaker · 5 years

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My opinion to all the characters of the Masked Singer (season 1 to 2)

I'll list down my favorite characters at the final bottom with my greatest confession.

Season 1 characters:

•Hippo- he has swagger and reminds me of my oc Ishmael who is into hiphop and loves hiphop aesthetic.

•Pineapple- don't have an opinion of him but he is funny though.

•Deer- his design is so cool. Loved the steampunk and general aesthetic there, he is also one of my inspirations on making Dog (Nicol) since I am a fan of general uniforms.

•Poodle- she is the reason I first got interested on watching the Masked Singer in the first place! I loved this characters because of the pink (my favorite color), the sassy attitude and just ugh so fashionable! I loved it, she even sings "Heartbreaker" that I deeply loving her performance. Great job Margaret Cho, it very funny to trick Ken of not knowing his own sister.

•Unicorn- she is so pretty. I've been seeing unicorns everywhere in my life today and now. She is so pretty and white, I have a soft spot of her singing "Oops I did it again" and "Fight" song because of her sweet voice.

•Raven- she reminds me of my oc Ishiru. Dark, sympathetic, gothic and mourning of someone's death especially her beloved. I feel you girl.

•Alien- Alien is cool, I can see why everyone is complaining/reminded of Zim from Zim invaders (I also remember watching it in my childhood). I can't stop dancing and modelling myself while listening to "Ex's and Ohs". I didn't know Michael Jackson had a sister, I didn't know much to his family since I was so young before his death. Great knowing you La Toya Jackson.

•Lion- I am not a fan of gold though but dang she sings so strong and the tone is just over the top. I loved listening to "A little party never kill nobody" and "California Dreamin". Nice knowing you Rumor Willis.

•Peacock- this man is a living fabulous, prideful, eccentric bird I ever seen. I loved his performance, he is also funny and his voice is like an old famous singer I ever heard of. Loved the characters that Donny did and the signature moves though. Congrats to Donny for beings second place.

•Bee- I am not much of a Bee fan but I am in loved with her performance "Wrecking Ball". I can't stop listening to that song because of the high notes, strong voice and my own heart and soul suddenly clutching for this empress. Oh hail to Gladys Knight!

•Monster- aww Monster my second favorite character! I really loved you and I almost loved all of his performance (the one song I don't like is "I love Rock and Roll"). I am so glad T-Pain won the game to avenge my Rabbit since he is my second favorite. All hail to the Monster, T-Pain. (P.S: I didn't know he are the one who sing the song from my past, I guess I did know you on my childhood T-Pain).

•Rabbit- the last one is the Rabbit. My favorite character and the only favorite celebrity for the first time of my entire life! I loved so much about the Rabbit, I fell in love with madness, his edgy and lovable character, his neck twitch to show of his craziness, his design and straightjacket, his voice and performance, EVERYTHING! I am so glad to watch him performed but it broke my heart when he is eliminated on 4th place, I was devastated so much I would never ever rewatch his elimination ever. The Rabbit leading me to my forgotten childhood favorite boyband NSYNC. Joey Fatone, you are my first ever celebrity in my heart and will forever be the Rabbit I dearly cherish for my life. Stan for the Rabbit!

My top 3 favorite characters is: the Rabbit, the Monster and the Poodle.

Season 2 Characters:

•Panda- I don't have any opinions of her though.

•Skeleton- Skeleton is just so very elegant and funny. Loved his design, it gives me the vibes of Itward from the game Fran Bow. His performance is good yet I did not expect him to get eliminated in episode 4.

•Flamingo- Flamingo is pretty in pink. Welp, the idea of Peacock's sister idea is dead now. But she is fabulous in anyway.

•Ladybug- she is pretty too, she is also emotional and I am touch.

•Eagle- I don't know much of Eagle and when I get to know his he got the swag and stuff. (I ship you and Penguin so much)

•Tree- she looks weird though. A Christmas tree? It so early here on Philippines though (only started preparing Christmas on September before reaching December). When I heard her voice, I know that voice before somewhere and that person is also wearing a Christmas costume I swear!

•Rottweiler- huh another dog for this season like Poodle. I don't have an opinion of him though, I'm not really interested.

•Flower- she looks wow to look at. She is a big gal here. Like her performance and I have a feeling this is Bee's (or Glady's) friend somewhere since the voice is like a goddess. Also, I ship Flower with Nick because they both holding hands. I was like X.X oof I'm dead by love, I ship them so hard.

•Butterfly- Butterfly is just cool and alright to me, I am blown away with her performance of "Bang bang". That's all I could thought of.

•Fox- dude... I have mixed feelings to his gentleman here. The Fox has the sexy cool voice, the swag and the steampunk theme like Deer had but I don't think so. I'm not really interested on him unless he changed my mind by getting to know him every episode so I could concluded my theory. (His dancer and his performance reminds me of me with Nicol on stage. Me as a dancer to Dog's performance, what the fudge O_O)

•Black Widow- dang the twirking and the voice is just give me the face like this O.O . she looks edgy and cool, I don't know whether she will survived through episodes.

•Penguin- aww a cute Penguin~ pretty small though and goofy as well. I also want her and the Eagle together like seriously! OwO who is with me to the ship train of Eagle x Penguin?

•Leopard- oof!!! Right in the dokoro and I went doki doki to this spontaneous leopard ❤! I I can't stop listening to his performance "Somebody to love" and when I first listened, I am in the middle of confusion and shock then went to fell in loved to this character. All hail the queen (or king?), I have a soft spot to who ever he is.

•Thingamajig- Oof! I've been hit! My man is a living angel from heaven. I loved him so much omg. His voice, his character and I sympathies his clue about his darkest moment when he went to rehab. Protect this baby! I couldn't help but thought of Thingamajig is the cousin of Monster. Who ever he is, I'm going to do a headcanon for both Monster and Thingamajig's relationship as cousins from heaven.

•Egg- I never get tired of this flamboyant, sassy and fabulous egg. I loved him so much omg I can't with his sassy and flamboyant attitude. I have a soft spot of guys with flamboyant glamour and stylish taste of fashion. Johnny Weir, you are my god to worship of your egg boi. Too bad he is no longer on the Masked Singer :(

•Ice Cream- he is such a lovable and adorable dude! I loved sweet, I'm a sweet tooth of course. But my man, he is just so sweet and friendly to watch him. Loved the performance "Old town road" you aren't well trainer enough, but I was blown away to reveal Ninja in this. I didn't know youtubers can be also be called celebrities. I just thought youtubers are just people who wanted to expressed themselves for entertainment normally but I wanna thank my friend to explained me that youtubers can be celebrities too. Nice work Ninja!

My top 3... No top 4 favorite characters for season 2 is: the Egg, the Ice Cream, Thingamajig and Leopard.

#the masked singer human au #the masked singer #my opinion to everyone

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isagrimorie · 5 years

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The Doctor Who showrunner wars is still in full swing despite the three Doctor Who showrunners being friends IRL, and some things they’ve done and implemented can all boil down to preference.

I wanted to weigh in with my thoughts on this.

I like some things RTD did in his time in Doctor Who, I am very grateful to him for bringing the show back from the war but I also remember slowly getting disgruntled with his writing.

He is a drama writer, and one of the best; RTD has a way of turning a phrase that just fires up the imagination like:“Skaro Degradations, the Horde of Travesties, the Nightmare Child, the Could-Have-Been-King with his army of Meanwhiles and Neverweres.”

He has also written and help re-write my favorite two-parter of Revival!Who Impossible Planet/The Satan Pit, Midnight, Turn Left, and Children of Earth. The problem is as much as he loves both camp (sometimes the results can work, sometimes it doesn’t), RTD’s cynicism does leak through.

He tried to fight against those instincts in Doctor Who but you can see the strain show as he struggled to keep that cynicism away from the show.

There’s also the part where his frequent joke targets are middle aged women. And TBH, I was tired of Ten’s God Complex (“I am the final authority!”) and how the narrative rarely call him out on it. Unlike Nine, he started to believe his own press and the press of other people

I wasn’t keen on the way he joked about appearances of women above thirty, and tbh, I was tired of Ten’s God Complex (“I am the final authority.”) and how the narrative refused to call him out on it.

Ten believing his own press could have been interesting if the narrative didn’t think he was right. For example, The Water of Marscould have been interesting but I thought WoM resolved Ten’s Time Lord Victorious moment far too soon and easily.

I thought they could have explored more about the ‘Time Lord Victorious’ moment for at least another episode, or have The End of Time comment on it.

Apart from series 1, all of RTD’s series finales were heart-wrenching; each finale I ended up feeling like I was going twenty rounds against a meat grinder.

It was why I loved and will continue to love series 5 and how refreshingly happy the ending was.

No one was trapped in another dimension! No one had to single-handedly stop an apocalypse and have their family enslaved, or mind-wiped.

In the scheme of things, I think in certain aspects, Moffat’s storytelling style is more on line with my tastes. The fairytale seasons. Even Twelve becomes a fairytale Doctor, and I wager that his arc in series 8 is remembering the joy and becoming the fairytale Doctor again.

Another reason why I love series 5, coming directly from Ten’s Lonely God thing, was that a lot of people called out the Doctor on their God Complex and made their self-loathing a lot more text. I also loved the fairy tale aspect of his seasons.

But like with RTD not everything Moffat’s done is my favorite, there were some stories that had missteps, and one of those missteps was Moffat trying to out clever himself. Credit to him for swinging for the fences but he also started to spread himself too thin working on two shows, and the seams showed.

One of the criticisms about Moffat’s writing is character work, and he had no interest in the Companions’ families.

I’m in the middle. I have issues but also (especially after rewatching) I was more forgiving, as an example, in the end I didn’t care as much about the state of Amy’s parents.

No, that’s wrong, I did care.

I cared the first time I watched Angels Take Manhattan, I cared so much that when Amy and Rory disappeared I was so angry because all I could think about was Amy’s parents and Brian (Rory’s dad). I cared to the point that it was one of the reasons why I stopped watching.

On subsequent rewatches, I’ve reconciled with the idea that Companion families and family dynamics (the Companion’s parents) isn’t something Moffat was interested in. It took Chibnall to give Rory a dad (interesting that parent-child dynamic is really something Chibnall is drawn to).

Honestly, if family dynamics isn’t something he is interested in, that’s fair. Also, Amy’s parent’s weren’t a factor since series 6 and Amy’s parents might have well fallen back into the Crack for all we know.

Rewatching also helped me come to terms with some narrative choices I wasn’t fond of. Binge (re)watch tended to sand down any rough parts and I find rewatching can help me hold the shape of a story more.

Still, it took a while to realize Eleven acting big and bombastic was deliberate. Moffat needed Eleven to be big and loud, and full of himself so he can also go crashing down. It falls in line with what River describes the Doctor she knew: “Now my Doctor, I’ve seen whole armies turn and run away. And he’d just swagger off back to his Tardis and open the doors with a snap of his fingers.”

One of the things I wasn’t satisfied with Moffat’s writing (and there were plenty) was how series 6 dealt with child loss. Or, how s6 initially didn’t deal with child loss. The writing would eventually address it, and most prominently in The Wedding of River Song in a fantastically chilling scene between Amy and Kovarian.

But even then I felt it wasn’t enough. Emotional continuity during this time was very low.

This brings me to River. I loved her the moment she stepped on screen in Silence in the Library but my love for her character cooled because of series 6. My theory is Moffat wrote himself into a corner trying to out grand series 5.

For those taking notes at home, I watched Doctor Who sporadically during series 7 and then stopped watching at Angels Take Manhattan. I stopped watching until Day of the Doctor happened.

**DotD* reignited my love for Doctor Who! So much so that I went back and binged series 7.

I liked s7 well enough except for how Amy and Rory left, that still sticks in my craw. I would have been okay if the Ponds left at the end of the Power of Three. Unfortunately, for Revival!Who, there’s an expectation now that Leaving Stories should be hard and tragic, and breaks your heart. I don’t always need grand leaving stories.

TBH, with the exception of The Day of the Doctor, Series 7B is one of my least favorite Moffat seasons.

One of the many factors was the way the writers kept giving Matt Smith big speeches. The writers know he can do big speeches so they kept writing big speeches for him. It was their default.

Also, as one podcast speculated series 7B could have been where the writers realized (belatedly) that Smith was actually quite hunky. This and Moffat being too busy to manage the next half of the season because of The Day of the Doctor can explain the disaster that was the Time of the Doctor.

TotD remains as one of my least favorite Doctor Who episodes ever. (Well, not ever, there are some series 2 and 3 episodes that stand above it).

And then the Capaldi era.

This was the turn around where I started loving Moffat’s work again. It wasn’t easy to get to that point though, and like the previous series, there was a time I fell off the Doctor Who wagon because the first half of Capaldi’s season didn’t click with me.

I found him far too mean and unlikable which broke my heart since I loved Capaldi.

But a binge, again, sanded down all sins (well, notall) and now the difficult and prickly series 8 is something I really enjoy because knowing where Twelve ended up in his character journey helped.

This is why, I don’t mind getting spoiled about a show, as long I only get the broad strokes but not the details. I love finding out what his journey was and I don’t think I would have come back if I didn’t know where he ended up.

I think I saw snippets of Zygon Inversion speech on YouTube, and then I decided to give Husbands of River Song convinced me to finally watch all of Twelve’s run.

And now Twelve is my favorite Doctor.

Moffat’s writing didn’t magically become perfect (to me) but I loved the themes he chose to tackle for Twelve. Twelve is another PTSD!Doctor but unlike Nine, he had an opportunity to grow from that trauma. (And get fresh ones — thanks Time Lords!).

I love that Moffat used Twelve’s stories as a way to interrogate Ten’s stories culminating in Heaven Sent/Hell Bent.

IMO, Twelve’s relationship with Clara is similar to Rose and Donna. Twelve and Clara developed quite a co-dependent relationship by the time series 9 rolled around. They never quite achieved the height of smugness that was the first minutes of Impossible Planet nor have they ever been as obnoxious as Ten and Rose were in Tooth and Claw. Possibly because the Doctor’s older at this point and knows the perils, and similar to Donna because of how Donna kept Ten grounded. And, of course, because of the mindwipe argument that was definitely Moffat’s answer to the mindwiping of Donna, and as Moffat said in the War Games commentary, to the mindwipe of Zoe and Jamie.

And then we have Bill with Twelve, showing the very final form of the Twelfth Doctor. Twelve as a grown-up, feeling settled with himself, finally. He learned a lot of lessons and committed himself to stay in one place.

I love the relationship he built with Bill and while I do love, love, love Jodie Whittaker, I was sad to have only one season of Bill and Twelve. Especially since after Lie of the Land Missy’s story began to have more prominence over Bill’s.

(And there’s the whole Missy thing which tbh would make this a longer post than it already is!).

TLDR. Both showrunners aren’t perfect, sometimes their views don’t align with mine. I loved series 1 because it was my entry point into Doctor Who but there are also things about RTD’s run I wasn’t happy with. Same with Moffat there were things I adored and things that really didn’t sit well with me.

There were points during both showrunner’s time on the show I had to take time off.

Now with Chibnall, the same thread runs through: I like most of his stories in series 11 but it also isn’t perfect and has a lot of room for improvement.

/EDITED

#thinky thoughts #doctor who #moffat era #rtd era

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