#we all know they are getting cut in the live action

[factual-fantasy]

I know you probably won't continue this since it's been almost two years but recently I saw your Submas comic again with Emmet somehow ending up in Hisui with the help of Celebi and reuniting with his brother but also getting the consequences of his actions/neglect in taking care of himself (also probably Hisui being harsh to his already weakened state)

I imagined how it could continue (not written down anywhere just living rent free in the brain of yours truly) and I feel like sharing it with you since you inspired me:

We left off as Ingo weeps in front of Emmet sleeping... After he wakes up from his weeping Ingo and Sneasler reluctantly leave as Emmet has no signs of regaining consciousness or improving. Something tells Ingo that what his brother needs might be back in their original time with much better health care.

Similar to him Ingo seeks out Dialga and Palkia begging them to help him save his brother. They have just reunited and he doesn't dare to think what happens if Emmet doesn't get the treatment he needs.

Celebi is also still around and Ingo makes the decision to return to the future to help save Emmet. Sacrificing everything just like he did.

[off screen he makes his good byes get's one of Sneaslers Eggs as a parting gift and they return back to the future]

Next time we cut to the twins it's in the hospital when Emmet regains consciousness. Half awake he is distraught first because being in hospital means it was all a dream and he is all alone again. Waterworks start until he notices a presence by his bedside. Ingo. Totally exhausted and seemingly recently fallen asleep. Waterworks start even harder because Ingo is right there. It was real after all. Ingo awakes and wakes up and they hug and weep.

the end

----

I know you're not fond of fanworks of your fanworks so I don't know if you even like this stupid little idea (also if you even remember the fanart and all that from way back when) I don't plan on sharing this anywhere outside to you. Take it if you want or leave and delete it. I just felt like sharing it with you since you inspired me.

I just want to say thank you because even after all this time your few works of art for submas fill me with joy and I smile each time I scroll past them on my dashboard. All your artworks are simply amazing and I know that you definitely make so many people happy with your content. Keep doing what you love because you do awesome! Take care and thank you for reading this far into this long message.

Awwee!! This is so sad yet adorable at the same time!! 😭😭😭 What a sweet way to wrap up Ingo and Emmets journey! :}}

And thank you so much! I'm so glad to hear that you liked my submas stuff and that it's inspired you! Even though I didn't draw much for it.. 😅 Perhaps someday when I'm feeling better I'll get back around to submas again.. 👀👀

#my response #ingo and emmet #warden ingo #pokemon legends arceus

[finalgirlsamwinchester]

realised. dean is the perfect viewer avatar for a horror show. he gets to be both the action hero and the quippy, self-aware wiseguy who knows he's in a horror show. he provides a safe point; a comfortable power fantasy for you to experience a story through. he's ash in the evil dead. he's a gunslinging tough guy, and you get to see those moments where heroism sits on his shoulders like an ill-fitting leather jacket. and even when he gets his turn at being captured and victimised by the narrative, it's filtered through this mythic lens first. he's the tormented hero; tortured by villains, tortured by the constraints of his role. yeah he gets bruised, beaten bloody to a pulp, torn to shreds and killed, but his perception of reality never gets thrown into serious doubt (unless it's played out as a gag). the narrative valorises his sense of right and wrong, because that's what heroic stories do. their heroes provide moral center, regardless of how we might judge them. the lines dividing hero, anti-hero, and villian are paper thin, and dean isn't truly ever allowed to be ambiguous. and the hero always wins in the end, even when he dies.

meanwhile sam is the abject object of the horror show, a character who gets trussed up, chased, tied up, ripped apart, cut into, possessed, exploited, manipulated and psychologically hounded. he's carrie covered in pig's blood. he's the marginal person people are cheering on either to die - or to live past it all. he gets his turn at playing both movie monster and victim, always occupying the liminal space between both. abject horror lives within him. he's violated with demon blood, he consumes demon blood. he hates halloween because he vomited his guts up in front of a room of normal children. he will never get to be normal, he's designated the freak on multiple levels, but most significantly, by the way his narrative frames him. he's living inside a world that is at its core, fundamentally frightening and horrifying - full control over himself and his surroundings is always slipping away, just beyond his reach. his grip on reality and the world around him gets thrown into question by the story consistently. what's right? what's wrong? what's real? what isnt? the narrative punishes him - because that's what happens to you when you're living in a horror. he can never run away from his nightmare reality, it catches up to him like a curse nipping at his heels. the only way out for him is through the punishing fire. in order to survive, he's required to be pushed to the absolute brink of instability; emotionally, physically and mentally. he emerges out the other end, barely holding it together but somehow alive - like the bloody final girl, changed irrevocably by what she's experienced.

#FINALLY releasing this. oof #finalgirlsamwinchester blog thesis statement #i do also think this is where the fundamental tension between how both brothers are treated by the narrative and the audience comes from. #it's interesting that the moment the show swaps into a grand heroic narrative (s4-5) its perspective shifts primarily to dean's #and as the show grew into becoming a primarily action adventure narrative. dean takes center stage! that's his home genre! #sam fades away bc ultimately. the kind of horror he lives in isn't appealing to the Generalist possible audience. #at the end of the day. guy designated as The Freak has less mainstream appeal :(( #my meta #j.txt

[bengiyo]

23.5 Ep 8 Stray Thoughts

Last time, the gang decided to gussy up Ongsa for a school event, and we got to see her in traditional Thai clothing. Ton decided to help by stirring up Sun’s jealousy for some reason, as if Sun’s reticence were somehow the issue of the first half of the season. I enjoyed the few moments between Aylin and Luna. Sun eventually publicly declared that she wanted to be with Ongsa, so they are now girlfriends.

I’m with Aylin. She does look like a panda.

It’s taken us eight episodes to get to open mutual flirtation.

Episode 8: The Starry Night

Girl, Sun confessed to you in public. How are we supposed to keep this secret now? Did you talk to Sun about this?

Thank you, youths, for telling her off for this line of thinking.

I was chatting with @ginnymoonbeam earlier and do like that the drama of this week is “What even is dating?”

I am so invested in this teachers’ romance, you don’t even know.

YES, LIESTEN TO SUN. DO NOT WORRY ABOUT HOMOPHOBES. THEY CANNOT DETERMINE HOW WE LIVE OUR LIVES.

Ongsa, we have ridden with you for two months. She asked for the kiss. Do not let me down this week.

I love that Sun loves action films.

At least one GMMTV show isn’t pushing its pro-mosquito agenda.

Milk is very good at facial expressions.

This show is making me hope for my boy Mawin again.

Okay, Aylin, this was very cute. I like her calling back to the balled paper message.

I real like LOL’d at Mawin and Ton sliding in and out of this window.

Oh, Mawin, I feel for you. I wanted you to ask, but I get it.

All this bonding with Ton is not cutting down on my “Here’s How Euro Can Still Win” agenda.

Wow, Aylin, you got me, too.

That’s right, Luna. Teach her human things.

Chaoren’s rejection was great.

Well well well…HERE’S HOW EURO CAN STILL WIN…

How is it cold in Bangkok? Isn’t it like 80 F at night there?

Kissing with the glasses on? Huge win for lesbians and those who share their beliefs.

That chin grab? I see you, Ongsa.

Whyy are we introducing a separation next week with a study abroad program?

I like Milk and Love, but I don’t know that Love is being served well by this project. It feels like they don’t trust her as an actor and are leaning on Milk a lot. However, View and June are doing a great job together, and I loved the way AJ and Earn played their scenes. I am so invested in the Bambam and Nida story that I sit up every time they’re on screen. I feel like this show really struggled at building to the moments it wants to hit, but knows exactly when it wants us to hit them. It’s not bad, but it’s left me feeling rather unmoored along the way.

Alright, let’s talk about how Euro can still win! He didn’t get to kiss JJ in Dangerous Romance because JJ doesn’t kiss boys, he just teases about it. AJ, however, does! I am side-eyeing Tinh for always checking out athletic boys to the point that his friend finds it sinful, but being totally obvious about Mawin pining for him right next to him. It’s giving…no…I shan’t say…

#Ben watches #23.5 the series #23.5 degrees #thai gl #gl series

[lovelyo]

Live in Reality: You Would Not Want a Friend Like Penelope

I can’t with people talking bout Cressida is meaner than Penelope or that Cressida is a bully and Eloise is a bad person for befriending Cressida. The difference is Cressida is upfront with her mean girl attitude. She isn’t two-faced and would let you know upfront that she doesn’t fuck with you, totally opposite from Penelope who would write the muddiest of shit about you behind your back and feel absolutely no remorse, while on top of that gaslighting into believing she’s the victim.

Unless you’re a masochist, who would want a friend who smiles in your face but has secretly been resenting you and your family for years, has been tricking and lying to you for years; the friend has been disrespecting your family behind your back, gaslights you, is jealous of you every waking moment, always singing the same “woe is me, life is unfair” song to you but accuses you of being a bad friend, throws you under the bus to save their own neck and tries to manipulate it as they were trying to “help” or “save” you.

Anyone with a well-adjusted mind who has a friend or who sees a love one have a friend such as that will immediately take the action of cutting them off, despite any history, despite the memories, we would clearly think that a friend as toxic as that is not a good friend or rather a good person to be around.

So why does the individual who has been dealt with such a friend has to apologize or accept the toxic’s friend past and current bullshit. Does it make sense that that individual who has been treated like that by the toxic friend apologize to the toxic friend?

That’s y’all’ logic when it comes to Eloise and Penelope.

When you holler your chewbacca war cry in defense of Penelope, you are rooting for that toxic friend I have explained earlier knowing damn well that if someone like that was in your life or in the life of someone you deeply care for, you would NOT be associating with them or advise others not to.

But Eloise mustn’t be upset and must accept Pen’s hollow apology despite all the things that she has objectively done because…🤷🏾‍♂️ we’re not allowed to be mad at the plus size character cause she’s plus size, that’s the reason people are mainly giving me.

Who cares about size? A toxic person is A TOXIC PERSON: short, tall, small, curvy, a person’s character isn’t defined or should be given a free pass because of their appearance. That’s what you guys are doing with Penelope and it’s insane dawg 😭.

P.S. Given from the spoilers, Pen apologizes to Eloise about the betrayal and being LW but goes back to the same schtick, talking shit bout her brother so ask yourself how genuine she really was

P.S.S Even Colin thinks what LW did was wicked and unnecessary, especially since in season 2 he said if Marina had told him bout the pregnancy, he would’ve still went with the marriage. Plus his sister got dunked on….but hooray for Penelope getting a HEA and being a part of a family she disparages.

#anti penelope featherington #justice for eloise #Pen fans are what they stan #Colin getting scammed once more #The actual bully of the series is Penelope not Cressida #Netflix is kookoo for pushing a happy ending on someone who doesn’t deserve it one bit #lady danbury better not support the person talking shit bout her bestie and her bestie’s mentally ill husband #Penelope is not a victim!

[crystalmoola]

If You Please 🐈🐈

#twst #disney twst #twisted wonderland #twisted oc #twisted wonderland oc #twisted wonderland fanart #lady and the tramp #cat day #we all know they are getting cut in the live action

[threadbareturnbacks]

"clock's ticking"

"time's up"

(clicking clock is the end credits)

I could swallow this show whole I swear to god

#black sails #black sails rewatch #4x04 is a banger #i know the big action scenes and 4x09 and 4x10 are good but honestly the writing doesn't get better than 4x04 #The closer we get to the end of this journey #the more contradictions we’ll accumulate #thats how we know we are finally getting somewhere interesting #i could not find a knife sharp enough to make the cut #'what consequences could you not bare?' 'that i would have to live with it' #'if we dont change our approach we'll all die here' #'it is an awful thing to ask someone to chose between one irreplaceable thing and another' #every line goes so hard #every.single.line.is.foreshadowing #how do they do it!?

[reasonsforhope]

No paywall version here.

"Two and a half years ago, when I was asked to help write the most authoritative report on climate change in the United States, I hesitated...

In the end, I said yes, but reluctantly. Frankly, I was sick of admonishing people about how bad things could get. Scientists have raised the alarm over and over again, and still the temperature rises. Extreme events like heat waves, floods and droughts are becoming more severe and frequent, exactly as we predicted they would. We were proved right. It didn’t seem to matter.

Our report, which was released on Tuesday, contains more dire warnings. There are plenty of new reasons for despair. Thanks to recent scientific advances, we can now link climate change to specific extreme weather disasters, and we have a better understanding of how the feedback loops in the climate system can make warming even worse. We can also now more confidently forecast catastrophic outcomes if global emissions continue on their current trajectory.

But to me, the most surprising new finding in the Fifth National Climate Assessment is this: There has been genuine progress, too.

I’m used to mind-boggling numbers, and there are many of them in this report. Human beings have put about 1.6 trillion tons of carbon in the atmosphere since the Industrial Revolution — more than the weight of every living thing on Earth combined. But as we wrote the report, I learned other, even more mind-boggling numbers. In the last decade, the cost of wind energy has declined by 70 percent and solar has declined 90 percent. Renewables now make up 80 percent of new electricity generation capacity. Our country’s greenhouse gas emissions are falling, even as our G.D.P. and population grow.

In the report, we were tasked with projecting future climate change. We showed what the United States would look like if the world warms by 2 degrees Celsius. It wasn’t a pretty picture: more heat waves, more uncomfortably hot nights, more downpours, more droughts. If greenhouse emissions continue to rise, we could reach that point in the next couple of decades. If they fall a little, maybe we can stave it off until the middle of the century. But our findings also offered a glimmer of hope: If emissions fall dramatically, as the report suggested they could, we may never reach 2 degrees Celsius at all.

For the first time in my career, I felt something strange: optimism.

And that simple realization was enough to convince me that releasing yet another climate report was worthwhile.

Something has changed in the United States, and not just the climate. State, local and tribal governments all around the country have begun to take action. Some politicians now actually campaign on climate change, instead of ignoring or lying about it. Congress passed federal climate legislation — something I’d long regarded as impossible — in 2022 as we turned in the first draft.

[Note: She's talking about the Inflation Reduction Act and the Infrastructure Act, which despite the names were the two biggest climate packages passed in US history. And their passage in mid 2022 was a big turning point: that's when, for the first time in decades, a lot of scientists started looking at the numbers - esp the ones that would come from the IRA's funding - and said "Wait, holy shit, we have an actual chance."]

And while the report stresses the urgency of limiting warming to prevent terrible risks, it has a new message, too: We can do this. We now know how to make the dramatic emissions cuts we’d need to limit warming, and it’s very possible to do this in a way that’s sustainable, healthy and fair.

The conversation has moved on, and the role of scientists has changed. We’re not just warning of danger anymore. We’re showing the way to safety.

I was wrong about those previous reports: They did matter, after all. While climate scientists were warning the world of disaster, a small army of scientists, engineers, policymakers and others were getting to work. These first responders have helped move us toward our climate goals. Our warnings did their job.

To limit global warming, we need many more people to get on board... We need to reach those who haven’t yet been moved by our warnings. I’m not talking about the fossil fuel industry here; nor do I particularly care about winning over the small but noisy group of committed climate deniers. But I believe we can reach the many people whose eyes glaze over when they hear yet another dire warning or see another report like the one we just published.

The reason is that now, we have a better story to tell. The evidence is clear: Responding to climate change will not only create a better world for our children and grandchildren, but it will also make the world better for us right now.

Eliminating the sources of greenhouse gas emissions will make our air and water cleaner, our economy stronger and our quality of life better. It could save hundreds of thousands or even millions of lives across the country through air quality benefits alone. Using land more wisely can both limit climate change and protect biodiversity. Climate change most strongly affects communities that get a raw deal in our society: people with low incomes, people of color, children and the elderly. And climate action can be an opportunity to redress legacies of racism, neglect and injustice.

I could still tell you scary stories about a future ravaged by climate change, and they’d be true, at least on the trajectory we’re currently on. But it’s also true that we have a once-in-human-history chance not only to prevent the worst effects but also to make the world better right now. It would be a shame to squander this opportunity. So I don’t just want to talk about the problems anymore. I want to talk about the solutions. Consider this your last warning from me."

-via New York Times. Opinion essay by leading climate scientist Kate Marvel. November 18, 2023.

#WE CAN DO THIS #I SO TRULY BELIEVE THAT WE CAN DO THIS #WE CAN SAVE OURSELVES AND THE WORLD ALONG WITH US #climate crisis #united states #climate change #conservation #hope posting #sustainability #climate news #climate action #climate emergency #fossil fuels #global warming #environmentalism #climate hope #solarpunk #climate optimism #climate policy #earth #science #climate science #meteorology #extreme weather #renewable energy #solar power #wind power #renewables #carbon emissions #climate justice

[thefandomexpert]

alright i’ll say it. i don’t hate the new netflix atla

#first off impeccable casting #costumes good. sets fine. #cgi tolerable for a series #esp bc uncannyness is from sticking to animated character designs methinks #the one thing i truly don’t like is the tell-not-show thing they have going pn #‘i’m sad’ says sang because he is sad. etc etc #but i’m actually really enjoying the extra flashbacks and they’re using them to good effect! #they’ve cut a bunch of the og filler eps for time clearly #but that means they’re missing a bunch of character work that happens during those filler arcs #so they put some character work into the flashbacks instead #it’s great #the tone is markedly different #which is why i think it’s best viewed as supplemental material after having seen the original #every semi-adult fan loves to talk about how hard aang has it as this baby avatar dead for 100 years #that’s a major angst point in the show itself. it only comes up later #here they’re really digging into it. at the expense of his funney jokes tm. so if you’ve already seen the original show #and u know what animated aang is supposed to be like #all this stuff in the live action can be seen as supplemental character work #and i’m enjoying seeing bits and pieces we didn’t get to see before there #meg speaks #meg watches atla netflix #atla

[2kiran]

FRANCIS MOSSES 交易 ── `` DARK CONTENT﹕monsterfucking. top amab reader. doppelgänger francis. handjob. no protection + preparation. overstimulation. ✶ IN WHICH you unknowingly let the wrong francis inside.

the prospect of you being fired—or worse, being put in a cell—was incredibly likely. enthusiasm of the milkman’s arrival being your final entry request for the day lead to your upcoming demise.

it shouldn’t be on you, both the blame and responsibility. the given identity document had indistinguishable information, merely an artist’s mistake as you finally realize that his eyebrows were just a tad thicker. his eyes were a bit too lively for the real francis.

realization dawned on you a second too late as you feel cold, but strangely simultaneously familiar and unfamiliar hands grab you from behind. before you could reach the rotary phone to contact the D.D.D., he grabbed your wrist and spun your chair around to face him.

francis, or so you thought, had a gentle smile plastered on his face but you knew better to tell that his intentions were far from truly kind. “don’t tell me you were actually going to let them kill me,” your jaw tightened, gaze hardening into a glare. he chuckled, hands landing on the armrests, so dangerously close to yours that were balled in fists to prevent yourself from punching his face.

when you didn’t respond, he continued. leaning in as he shook his head with a scoff, “aw, c’mon. . .we both know that you’re too much of a good sweetheart, yeah? please don’t try that again.” his saccharine voice was improbable, a subtle take of a threat behind his tone.

“you’re gullible enough to think i’d do that for you.” the tension between you was palpable, a thin thread that threatened to break at the tip of his finger. his lips pouted, sadness in his untrue eyes. “me? but you’re the one who let me in here,” he laughed, tone rather arrogant, “and i should thank you for that.”

if he were the real francis, you probably would have been making out with him by now. this doppelgänger was awfully confident, you wish you could break him. see tears fall down to his round cheeks, lips trembling as pleas tumbled out of his pretty lips.

these thoughts were idiotic. but fuck, he was near enough to the milkman, the clueless neighbor who could care less about it all. “want me to spare you? or—” you cut him off, lips connecting with his. francis was surprised, but welcomed it nonetheless. his hand came up to your neck, sliding towards your hair. groaning as he gently, almost experimentally, tugged at it. tongue met tongue, a clash of saliva and mess. you bit onto his bottom lip, eliciting a soft moan.

“mmph, and here i thought you hated me.” he grinned, panting, “what gave you that idea?” you place a kiss on his chin, “because you tried to get rid of me, and the fact that. . .i’m not him.” grabbing his hips, he let out a yelp. he scrambled to hold onto your shoulders for dear life, gasping when he felt your teeth graze against his neck. “seems like i’ve struck a nerve, hu—haah, fuck!”

a lewd moan had escaped him, your teeth sinking into his flesh. it was far from gentle, biting him like you wanted to see him bleed. he was simply a doppelgänger that you stupidly let in, after all.

the pink muscle settled in your mouth lapped at the bite, cueing francis to whimper at the sensation. he moved closer on your lap, grinding against your crotch. the action could’ve been mistaken for something relating to a dog; for he seemed like a bitch in heat. quite uncharacteristic for his kind. “you’re pathetic, mosses.”

francis, beyond belief, was affected by the use of the stolen surname more than you anticipated. his hips trembled, “that’s, haah, not my fault. you made me like this. fucking a– ah! doppelgänger, really? they’d surely co– come for you next.” his cock twitched, spilling pre-cum that formed a wet patch on his boxers. you were a lowly human, another one to get rid of, so why does he feel this way?

silence was met with his words. not until you pull down his pants, taking off what was left until his lower half was bare to you. “oh yeah? you’re letting me fuck you,” your fingers wrapped around the base of his dick, giving a single stroke, “you’re not even trying to fight back against me, honey.”

he whined, beginning to selfishly rut into your palm. “what were you going to say?” francis doesn’t respond and you twist your wrist, a cry slipping from him. you asked on a whim, wishing to hear what he planned besides allowing you to carry on with your life. “i-i don’t know!” your thumb presses down on his slit, causing him to wrack his brain to remember. “ah, ah, i meant to ask if you wa- want me to kill you right he— hmmng!” his voice wobbled as if he was fearful, tears in his eyes and he’s suddenly ethereal.

“do you still want to do that? to end my life?”

“no, no, please, i didn’t mean it.”

you tease the vein that ran on his shaft, never failing to witness the face he makes when he’s within the depths of pleasure; of that high he never dared to reach. oh, if only if it was francis mosses. the real one, the one you’re so curious about, the one who your eyes like to linger on a bit too long for comfort. your pace picks up, palm slick with his pre-cum and the room’s sinful with his sobs and arousal.

francis moans under his breath, “i’m cumming-!” he warns a second too late, hips bucking as the familiar fluid splatters across your fingers. the doppelgänger was your very own legendary mona lisa with how his face is painted with all shades of red.

when you swipe your thumb over his tip, he swore he had a glimpse of the deity he didn’t have the conscience to worship.

beliefs were foolish; it was his opinion. with that, he thought you were the one insane. doppelgängers aren’t flawed with such imperfections like humans are. he didn’t need to be prepared for situations similar to this, and you used his inhumanity for your pleasure.

“ughm, agh!” you had wordlessly given your cock a few pumps, no more than that before slipping inside of his tight hole. the tiniest beginning of guilt threatened to engulf you with shame, but why should you allow it? his mere purpose and intention was to murder.

his hole spasmed around you, freely welcoming the intrusion. maybe they were quite useful after all. he whined, his insides tingling with the stretch. the doppelgänger has never felt so full, or genuinely anything, for that matter. “please—fuck, move already, damnit.” he, himself, was breathless.

how could you deny him?

your hands grasped his hips tightly, like you wanted to indent a marking into his flesh. cold emanated from your palms, contrasting to the heat licking at his cheeks. he’s lighter than you’d expect, hole gripping you as if he was a fleshlight. lifting him up, your tip was held onto. heavenly; as the way he wrapped around you was undeniably heavenly.

sensing his apparent impatience, you let him crash down on you. a broken gasp-of-a-moan occupied the air, globs of pre-cum building on his slit. “yeah, fuck me like that,” he breathed, instructions hazily clear to your sex-deprived brain. his ass slapped, slapped, slapped against you. shit, the D.D.D. surely ought to give you a punishment worse than death for this.

he clung onto you, both with his arms and entrance. you don’t think you could really get enough—as vague as this memory could get. your tip brushes against his prostate with each harsh thrust, slick sounds adding onto the cotton pressed into his little head, forming static and nothing else to focus on besides your cock pounding into him. “you’re liking this- ahngm! right? like how good i feel? haa, needed your dick in me s’ bad. . .”

he pushed his hips forward, grinding on your cock as he purposely clenched. “thaaaat’s it, sweetheart. think ‘m gonna keep you.”

yeah, let’s hope your neighbors forgive you for indulging in him.

masterlist﹒divider﹒artist kaworinx

#진 deals. #.🕸️ ݁ ˖ corrupted.khan 𖦹 #— azrael.worksᵎᵎ #that’s not my neighbor #that's not my neighbor #not my neighbor #francis mosses #the milkman #francis mosses x reader #francis mosses x you #milkman x reader #milkman that's not my neighbor #dom!reader #top!reader #dom reader #top reader #dom male reader #dom gn reader #top amab reader #top male reader #top gn reader #amab!reader #amab reader #male!reader #male reader #x amab reader #x male reader #gn!reader #gn reader #x gn reader

[sjyuns]

🗒️ 、 INTENTIONS

popular sunghoon x fem reader 1535 words genre fluff mikaela’s note because sunghoon is so tristan dugray coded, inspired by a gilmore girls scene

“I’d kiss you but your boyfriend’s watching,” Sunghoon mumbles, and he’s so close you can feel his breath on your lips.

He holds your gaze confidently, with a tinge of arrogance as his tongue darts out to lick his lip. You think that Sunghoon is the most annoying person in the world, because how can he look so devilishly handsome and have such an intoxicating effect on you.

It all started when he showed up unannounced and uninvited to your birthday party — still in his school uniform, tie loosened and sleeves rolled up with his blazer hanging over his shoulder.

And you should have known better than to let him charm his way into your house. “What are you doing here, Hoon?”

He loves the way his nickname rolls off the tip of your tongue, it's so addictive and he wants to record it so that he can play it again and again, even if your tone is one of spite.

“Happy birthday princess,” Sunghoon completely ignores your words, taking steps closer towards you, “now, where’s my birthday kiss?”

He’s at it again, aimlessly flirting with you. You roll your eyes, a deep sigh exiting your mouth, “it’s my birthday, Hoon.” How did he even know where you lived? You were sure you told everyone you invited not to bring him along.

“So I’ll give you a birthday kiss,” he grins, eyes glinting with mischief as he watches your facial expressions fall, ears burning red as you quickly turn around.

You hate Park Sunghoon and the unimaginable hold he has on you. “I’m going to find my mother. Do not, I swear to god, cause any trouble.”

“Your mother? It’s a little early in the relationship,” he moves swiftly to your side, arms casually slinging over your shoulder as he pulls you closer into him forcefully. “But it’s okay, I’m ready.”

Where in the world does Sunghoon get his cocky attitude from, you think as you try your best to pry and lift his arm away from your shoulder. Despite your surface indifference towards his advances, there were millions of butterflies invading your stomach at his every single action.

Before you can even try to escape, a voice calls your name and you stop to talk to Yunjin. “Park Sunghoon? What are you doing here?”

Sunghoon steals a glance at you, and he thinks you look absolutely adorable as you pout at the image of multiple people seeing you with him; given how you always seemed to have complaints about his overly flirty nature and playboy ways.

But Sunghoon hasn’t fooled around since you transferred into Decelis two months ago, a personal record for him. At first all you were was a form of entertainment, someone who had cute reactions to his smooth pick up lines.

Then it all came crashing down, when he started to feel the need to bicker with you everyday and mess up your hair every time he sees you in the hallways. And somewhere in between the blurred lines, he fell in love.

“Here to celebrate my girl’s birthday,” he cocks his head towards you, who’s palms now cover your face in sheer embarrassment. God, now it’s going to spread like wildfire. His girl?

Yunjin’s eyes widen and jaw drops, “really? You guys are together? But I thought you were with Choi Soobin.” She asks, nudging you.

Sunghoon frowns at her words. Choi Soobin? Since when? Sunghoon literally follows you around school whenever he sees you, and he’s never seen you ever talk to that boy.

“Soobin and I are just friends,” you clarify, “also we are not a couple,” your finger gesturing to you and Sunghoon as you answer the girl.

“Tomorrow we’ll be a couple,” Sunghoon cuts back into the conversation, voice loud, and he catches your surprised expression as he smirks slyly.

Though he continues the conversation without a single stutter or break, Sunghoon’s feeling utterly disgusted. Is that the kind of boy you like? Nerdy losers who can’t do anything for the life of themselves? He doesn’t really like the thought of turning into those types of boys, but whatever you want, he thinks — he’s already practised abstinence for you, he might as well go all the way.

At the same time Sunghoon wonders if you’re really that oblivious to his obvious advancements towards you. He’s made it crystal clear: dumped his girlfriend, follows you around, talks about you literally all the time, and yet you’re still clueless.

And he whisks you away before you find the chance to clarify his words again. He’s determined this time round, to make it extremely straightforward for you.

“Hoon why in the world would you say stuff like that,” you groan, hands slapping his chest. And he grins like an idiot at your touch, if this was what it took for you to initiate skinship with him, he’d be more than willing to proclaim himself as your boyfriend any day.

He places a hand on the place you’d just hit, “it’s painful,” he pouts, and you almost feel a little guilty at your harsh actions, “can you kiss it better?”

Until that. You huff, “i’m leaving,” you announce as you turn away, ready to walk right back into the crowd. Sunghoon quickly clasps his fingers around your wrist, pulling you into his chest.

Your eyes become those of a deer caught in headlights as your body is pressed firmly against his, his arms finding their way to your waist; a gentle but firm hold as he bends down.

“Wasn’t done yet, princess,” he smirks, and you feel some sort of danger looming over because Sunghoon looks like a devil enticing you to commit sin. His black hair styles perfectly like always and his red tie, due to his excessive movements, is now dropping down even more to expose his honey skinned collarbones.

The most you can muster is a mumble, “what,” and your eyes are glassy as you stare up at him, he thinks he might go insane — so close to just moving in to place a kiss on your invitingly soft lips.

“I’d kiss you but your boyfriend’s watching,” and he literally spits the term out, unable to believe he’s labelling someone else other than him ‘your boyfriend’. He knows you guys aren’t together, but just for the comfort of his heart he has to hear it again.

It takes you a while before you process his words. “He’s not my boyfriend, Hoon,” and it’s that short statement coupled with the way you say his name that really breaks it for him.

Sunghoon moves in just as you finish your sentence, and he sinks into your pillowy lips. It’s paradise on earth and he thinks he will never be able to get enough of this feeling.

“Sunghoon,” you mumble when he breaks the kiss, slightly out of breath as you look up with hazy eyes.

He chuckles, “sorry, baby, my bad. I’ll return your kiss back,” and Sunghoon doesn’t hesitate to give you another kiss, fingers caressing your waist as he pulls you closer to him.

This time it’s you who breaks the kiss, way too out of breath to even form full sentences without a few breaks in between. “You just kissed me.”

“Right, I just did that baby,” he smiles, those tiny fangs of his showcased as he gazes adoringly at you. “Actually, I’m looking for a girlfriend.” He pauses, eyeing your flushed cheeks and pink lips, “you looking for a boyfriend by any chance, princess?”

Now that you’re literally glued onto Sunghoon, you take the chance to look at him. Sharp nose, pretty moles that you could probably trace along all day, and his eyes which contrasting to his calm demeanour, held anxiousness as he waited for you to answer.

You’ve thought about dating Sunghoon before. Multiple times. Way more than you should’ve. And you never wanted to ever confess to it, because he was everyone’s crush. And not only that, he was annoying — constantly teasing you and making you flustered by his actions. You’d curse every time your heartbeat started to accelerate at his flirty words. You had thought that there was no way he’d ever like you back.

“I’m looking for a boyfriend,” you admit, letting out a soft giggle at Sunghoon’s overjoyed expression. And you decide that maybe now’s the time to get back at him, tease him a little to get him to stay on his toes, “maybe I should go find Soobin.”

His shoulders drop almost immediately and his arms wrap around your waist securely, chin resting on the top of your head. “No fucking way,” he grumbles, “you’re my girlfriend now. And I’m your boyfriend.”

“Yeah, you are,” you say, voice muffled in the embrace of Sunghoon. And you hear him giggle slightly, the rumble of his chest exposing the boyish feelings your boyfriend was currently going through, “for now.”

Sunghoon lifts his chin from your head, fingers brushing over your cheeks before they land themselves on your jaw. He tilts your chin up, “too bad my intention is forever.” And he places a chaste kiss on your lips again and again.

You are in for a long ride.

© SJYUNS

#⪩⪨ mikaela's #enhypen #enhypen drabbles #enhypen fluff #enhypen soft hours #enhypen x reader #enhypen headcanons #enhypen oneshots #enhypen imagines #sunghoon fluff #sunghoon oneshots #sunghoon headcanons #sunghoon x reader #sunghoon scenarios #sunghoon soft hours #sunghoon drabbles #sunghoon #enhypen fanfiction #enhypen scenarios #enhypen soft thoughts

[odinsblog]

“I first started noticing the journalists dying on Instagram. I'm a journalist, I'm Arab, and I've reported on war. A big part of my community is other Arab journalists who do the same thing.

And when someone dies, news travels fast. Recently, I pulled up the list that the Committee to Protect Journalists has been keeping and looked at it for the first time. There are 95 journalists and media workers on it as of today.

Almost everyone on it is Palestinian. Scrolling through, I started to get angry. These were the people carrying the burden of documenting this whole war.

Israel is not allowing foreign journalists into Gaza, except on rare occasions with military escorts. These people's names are being buried in a giant list that keeps growing. What I want to do is lift some of them off the list for a moment and give you a glimpse of who they were and the work they made.

I'll start with Sadi Mansour. Sadi was the director of Al-Quds News Network, and he posted a 22-second video on November 18. That was a report from the war, but it also gave me a picture into his marriage.

Sadi's wearing his press vest and looks exhausted. He's explaining that cell service and the Internet keep getting cut off, and it's often impossible to text or call anyone, including his wife. So they've resorted to using handwritten letters to communicate while he's out reporting, sending them back and forth with neighbors or colleagues.

He ends the video with a picture of one of these letters from his wife. In it, she writes,

‘Me and the kids stayed up waiting for you until the morning, and you didn't come home. We were really sad.

I kept telling the kids, Look, he's coming. But you didn't show up. May God forgive you.

Come home tomorrow and eat with us. Do you want me to make you kebab or maybe kapse? Bring your friends with you, it's okay.

And give Azeez the battery to charge. What do you think about me sending you handwritten letters with messenger pigeons from now on? Ha ha ha.

I'm just kidding. I want to curse at you, but we're living in a war. Too bad.

Okay, I love you. Bye.’

A few hours after he shared that letter, Sadie and his co-worker Hassouna Saleem were at Sadie's home, when they were killed by an Israeli air strike that hit his house.

His wife and kids, who weren't there, survived.

Gaza is tiny, and the journalist community is really close. Reading the list, you can see all the connections between people. Like with Brahim Lafi.

Brahim was a photojournalist, one of the first journalists to die. He was killed while reporting on October 7. He was just 21, still new to journalism.

On his Instagram, you can see that in his posts just a few years ago, he was still practicing his photography, taking pictures of coffee cups and flowers. Then he started doing beautiful portraits and action shots. You can really feel him starting to become a journalist.

Clicking around on Instagram, I found a tribute post about Brahim from his co-worker Rushdie Sarraj. In this photo, Brahim staring intently at the back of a camera, his face lit up by the light from the viewfinder. He looks so young.

The caption reads, My assistant is gone. Brahim is gone. Rushdie himself was a beloved journalist and filmmaker.

And I know that because he's also on the list. He was killed just two weeks after Brahim. I read the tribute post to him too.

I saw this over and over again. Journalists posting tributes, who were then killed themselves soon after. And a tribute goes up for them.

And then the pattern continues.

Thank you.

Something else I saw over and over on the list, journalists later in the war who had become aware that they could be making their last reports. They'd say it at the beginning of their videos. And those were the hardest to watch, especially when it was true.

One video like that was posted by Ayat Hadduro. Ayat was a freelance journalist and video blogger. Her videos before the war covered a wide range from what I can tell, interviews about women in politics.

She even appeared in a commercial for ketchup-flavored chips. She clearly liked being in front of the camera. Once the war started, Ayat's pivoted to covering bombings and food shortages.

On November 20, she posted a video report from her home. You can hear the airstrikes hitting very close to where she is. It's scary.

‘This is likely my last video. Today, the occupation forces dropped phosphorus bombs on Beit Lahya area and frightening sound bombs. They dropped letters from the sky, ordering everyone to evacuate.

Everyone ran into the streets in the craziest way. No one knows where to go.

But everyone else has evacuated. They don't know where they're going. The situation is so scary.

What's happening is so tough, and may God have mercy on us.’

She was killed later that day.

Targeting journalists, in case you didn't know, is a war crime. So far, the Committee to Protect Journalists has found that three of the journalists on the list were explicitly targeted by the IDF, the Israeli military. Investigations by the Washington Post and Reuters, Human Rights Watch and the United Nations have also raised serious questions in these three cases.

And the Committee to Protect Journalists is investigating 10 other killings. When we reached out to the IDF for comments, they said, quote, the IDF has never, and will never, deliberately target journalists. That's the answer they always give in these situations.

Meanwhile, dozens of seasoned reporters have fled Gaza. Journalists who worked for Al Jazeera, the BBC, the New York Times, the Washington Post, Reuters, Agence France-Presse. So many media offices were demolished in Israeli airstrikes that the Committee to Protect Journalists stopped counting.

It's not just individual lives that have been destroyed. It's an entire infrastructure.

Thank you.

The name on the list that was hardest for me to look at was Issam Abdullah, because I'd crossed paths with him once. Issam was a Lebanese journalist, a video journalist for Reuters for many, many years. He had just won an award for coverage of Ukraine.

I'm Lebanese and still report there sometimes, and I'd worked with Issam a couple of summers ago. He helped me film a sort of random story in Beirut. I was interviewing this entrepreneur who had started a sperm freezing company after an accident where he spilled a tray of hot coffee on his private area, burning himself.

I know, ridiculous. It was a really silly shoot. Right after we said cut and started to rap, Issam started this whole bit about being in his late 30s, reconsidering his own sperm quality and everything he now realized he was doing to hurt it, and no one could stop laughing.

It was a really good day that felt good to remember and to remember him that way. Issam was killed by the IDF on October 13. His death was one of the three that the Committee to Protect Journalists has identified as a targeted killing.

He was fired upon by an Israeli tank while standing in an empty field on the Lebanon-Israel border with a small group of other journalists. Everyone was wearing press vests with cameras out. They were covering the Hezbollah part of this war.

A few other journalists were injured in the attack, which was captured on video. The IDF says they were responding to firing from Hezbollah, not targeting the journalists. But multiple investigations, including by Reuters, the United Nations, Amnesty International and the AFP, found no evidence of any firing from the location of the journalists before the IDF shot at them.

The journalists in the group and video footage confirmed that there was no military activity near them. I had only met Issam once, barely knew him, but it affected me so much when he died. I know that he understood the risks of his job, but somehow it still felt so random and unfair that he would be struck down like that, following the rules, wearing his press vest and helmet, and a pack of reporters on a sunny day in an open field.

I find myself thinking about him all the time. His last Instagram post was commemorating another journalist, this iconic reporter Shereen Abou Aql who had been killed by the IDF. When I first saw that post in October, I thought how ironic because a week later, Isam also was killed by the IDF.

But then, after spending time reading the list, I realized how common this had become. I still haven't finished going through the list and looking up the people on it. I keep finding things that stick with me, like the funny way this one radio host would cut off a caller who was rambling on for too long.

A tweet from reporter Al-Abdallah that quoted Sylvia Plath. It read, What ceremony of wars can patch the havoc? I'm going to keep going down the list, even though this story is over now.

Just for myself. My own way of bearing witness. Which is, in the end, all that these journalists were trying to do.”

—DANA BALLOUT, The 95. Dana sifts through a very long list—the list of journalists killed in the Israel-Hamas war, and comes back with five small fragments of the lives of the people on it. Dana is a Lebanese-American, Emmy-nominated documentary producer.

#politics #dana ballout #the 95 #palestine #israel #war crimes #gaza #committee to protect journalists #🇵🇸 #brahim lafi #shereen abou aql #issam abdullah #ayat hadduro #rushdie sarraj #hassouna saleem #sadi mansour

[tinyluvs]

Rafe and reader arguing and she flashes him to end the argument and win it

i’ve won many an argument doing this so 🌝 *mdni!*

the door of the cameron house slams and you flinch, your eyes widening as you turn to the sound of the footsteps rapidly approaching. rafe barrels into the kitchen looking, for lack of a better word, mad

“oh boy” you mutter to yourself before slapping a sickly sweet smile on your face, “hi baby, how’re you?”

rafe raises an eyebrow at you. the breakfast bar counter separates the two of you, “don’t baby me right now” he snaps, crossing his arms over his chest

you know exactly what you did but just in case he’s mad over something else, you don’t admit to anything. “why?” you ask with a slight pout and a tilt of your head

your boyfriend rubs a hand over his face and sighs deeply, “so i was at the country club,” he starts and you hum, “heard some talk about things you’d said”

he knows. you mentally curse, rapidly trying to come up with something to get you out of trouble but nothing springs into action fast enough for you

“do you have any idea what trouble you’ll start if you start saying that shit?” rafe hisses at you, his hands planting onto the counter as he leans towards you

stupidly, you’d got a little drunk and gone on a rather long, rambling, tangent about how fucked the island system is. the way the pogue’s have no electricity or running water sometimes and the kook’s never have any issues

you frown, “but it’s true! kie was telling me ho-”

“i don’t care what kie said! i’m talking about you and what you said” rafe cuts you off, raising his voice over yours, “it’s the fucking country club, full of kooks” he points out

a sigh tumbles past your lips and your hand swipes through your hair, “so i can talk about it, just not at the country club?” you shoot back with an attitude

rafe stares at you, “just don’t talk about it at all for a while, okay?” he huffs, standing back up straight. even with the counter between you, he has to look down at you, his eyes burning into yours

“okay, god, i’m sorry” you roll your eyes but you realise that was a mistake when he growls, deep in his chest

he turns away from you, pacing up and down in the kitchen, “but you’re not sorry because you do this all the fucking time” he starts to ramble, “you’re my girlfriend, you live here with me an-”

you drown him out. watching him stop in front of the glass doors that lead out onto the patio. he rubs at his jaw as he continues to talk

“it’s not that deep, rafe” you mumble and drum your fingers off of the counter, “i won’t talk about it”

rafe doesn’t even acknowledge you talking, his rant continuing, his words louder than yours, “it makes my family look bad, my girlfriend going around talking about how we live and how it’s unfair to pogues, god!”

sighing deeply, you start to slide your fingers under the hem of your crop top, inching it up until you’re exposing your tits. your nipples perk up and you cross your arms underneath your boobs

still rafe doesn’t notice, “so stupid, this is how the island works, the kooks and the fucking pogues and it only works that way becau-”

“because what?”

he turns, finally. his words dying on his tongue as his eyes immediately draw to your chest. he licks over his bottom lip, watching your hand ghost over the swell of your tit and up to your neck

“because what, rafe?” you repeat yourself, challenging him even though you know you’ve won. his eyes darken and he moves around the breakfast bar, still leaving enough space between you

puffing his cheeks out, he admits defeat, “doesn’t matter” he grumbles. lust outweighs his annoyance for your argument ending tactics

you smirk, “didn’t think so,” you hum smugly. he closes the distance between you, hand sliding up your side until his thumb is brushing against your nipple

he bends and uses his free hand to pull your leg up, forcing you to jump, legs wrapping around his waist, “don’t do it again,” he mumbles against your neck, shifting you higher up his body so he can trail his lips down to your tit

“hmm, it’s quite fun winning the argument though” you snicker and push your tongue between your lips, titling your head back slightly.

his hand slaps against the your asscheek, his teeth grazing harshly against your nipple, causing you to cry out, something between a moan and a shout.

“don’t push it” he warns but you will, because the after argument sex always leaves you bruised and marked and so, so full and you’re too addicted to it

thanks for reading! remember to like! reblog! and comment! i’ll give you a kiss if you do, mwah ily !! send prompts to my ask box!

#❥ my works #rafe cameron #rafe cameron x you #rafe cameron x female reader #rafe outer banks #rafe x reader #rafe cameron fic #rafe cameron imagine #rafe cameron x y/n #rafe cameron x reader #❥ my rafe works #❥ rafe cameron drabbles #❥ rafe cameron fic rec #❥ rafe cameron #rafe cameron smut

[mellowsaturns]

in losing grip, on sinking ships (you showed up just in time)

BUCKY BARNES X FEM!READER

summary: when the avengers pick up unusual activity, they realize that not all of hydra was destroyed. one unidentifiable face sends the team into a frenzy but bucky knows it. he could recognize those eyes anywhere.

warnings: heavy angst, one sided enemies-to-lovers-ish, hydra!assassin!reader, hurt/comfort, happy ending, brainwashing, trauma, guns & knives, fighting, implied kidnapping of reader when young, all the feels, misunderstandings, poor attempt at writing action

wc: 4.7k

a/n: sorry it’s been forever but i hope my fellow buckyluvrs are still here <3 i actually wrote this a long time ago but never got around to editing until recently so i guess you can say this is (from the vault) ? inspired by the idea: what-if there was another winter soldier and bucky finds himself in steve’s position this time trying to get you back to him. anyways, i hope you enjoy this one :)

Bucky’s life was a never ending montage of gunfire and bloodshed. It didn’t matter if he was under the clutches of someone else, he still lived through the wars—the lingering smell of smoke and tang of metallic forever ingrained in his senses.

And just when he thought it was finally over—a glimmer of peace at last—it comes and steals that dream away from him.

Like deja-vu, he’s looking at faces that were once responsible for his pain.

On the screen, three Hydra officers stare back at him. All faces identified by Tony’s system. Alive. Last seen in the outskirts of some small country in Europe. Irrelevant low ranking officials that had managed to survive the fall of S.H.I.E.L.D and have been hiding and secretly continuing Hydra’s mission underground ever since. Low officials or not, it was one too many.

Bucky freezes in his spot when Tony swipes the screen. The billionaire goes on a rant saying this particular face cannot be identified, which was according to Tony, bullshit because his face recognition system is the best in the world. The rest of the team is arguing and flipping through countless files and internet archives. But Bucky knows. He knows that face and those haunting eyes that he still sees in his dreams.

“Buck,” a voice calls out. “You know her, don’t you?”

He looks up at Steve from his spot, his best friend's face worried and all knowing.

One thing about Hydra was that they were always prepared. They had backups and multiple plans ready, or else how would two heads take its place when one was cut off? Unfortunately for the world, Hydra managed to make another deadly assassin, one whose work was so discreet and nimble that even intelligence didn't know they existed.

You were a ghost story that lived in the shadows of the Winter Soldier. You were another one of Hydra’s prize possessions—less known, but just as deadly.

With Steve’s comment, all eyes are now on Bucky. A pregnant pause fills the air and he gulps before he confesses, “I wasn’t the only one.”

The room becomes tense. The war that they thought was over suddenly looms over like an unpredicted oncoming storm. “Jesus Christ, Barnes. You couldn’t have informed us about her earlier?” says Tony.

“I thought,” he says, shifting his eyes onto the ground, “I thought she fell with S.H.I.E.L.D.”

Bucky couldn’t find you anywhere after he escaped their grasp. After he joined the Avengers, he tried once again secretly using Tony’s technology but it was to no avail—it always ended up being a dead end. And for that, he assumed Hydra had put you out of your misery the day they were caught.

But the face on the screen says otherwise. And suddenly, Bucky feels very guilty.

Steve clears his throat, “Well, they were picked up not too long ago heading north. If we leave now, we might be able to find them and stop them once and for all.”

Everyone looks at each other, debating on his proposal. “What the Captain said. Everybody, suit up. Quinjet leaves in ten,” says Tony.

On the jet, Bucky stares off into space but countless questions run through his mind.

Steve walks over and sits beside him. “What’s going on in that head of yours?” he asks, voice quiet.

Bucky sighs, “I just… I thought she was gone.”

“Hey, it’s not your fault. You didn’t know.”

He looks up, wondering if he should tell Steve the truth. That he’s not brooding about the fact that he concealed you to them. After a moment, Bucky speaks up. “When we get there, let me handle her. Please.”

Steve didn’t know what kind of history Bucky had with you. But judging from the look his best-friend is giving, it’s more than what Steve could understand or even comprehend but he trusts Bucky and so, he gives him a nod. “She’s all yours.”

After scouting the area and tracing the location to a very hidden underground warehouse in the middle of nowhere, they split up. The warehouse was dark and dusty, surely abandoned, but Bucky knew better—it was their facade behind the most sinister of activities. Through the comms, Natasha announces that she has already taken care of all the troops in the West wing. Moments later, Sam reports that he has eliminated one of the Hydra officers. They wouldn’t last long. Hydra didn’t have much resources or time to rebuild—their current empire was weak, they were no match for the Avengers this time.

The only person Bucky’s truly worried about is you. The fact that he trained you, made you into what you were today already gave him the chills. He’s not the Winter Soldier anymore, but he was certain that you were still in that killer mindset that Hydra forced upon you.

Step by step, Bucky walks through the quiet hallway, the echoes of his footsteps the only noise. It’s cold here, he notices, which gives him flashbacks to those days in his dirty cell and the cryostasis chamber. Down a hallway to the next, round a corner and another, there wasn’t a single soul in the eerily Eastern wing.

But he spoke too soon, because seconds later, a garrote wire was around his neck. The swift invisible steps and the perfect pressure that was being used to quickly cut off his air supply was all too familiar. He knows this move, he taught this move. You’re here, and you’re dragging him backwards.

Before all oxygen gets cut off to his brain, he jabs his elbow backwards and hits you hard on the rib which releases the hold you have on him and sends you stumbling back. Bucky takes a moment to regain his breath but you’re on your feet again. He looks at you and for a moment he freezes, then you let out a sinister grin. “Nice to see you again, Soldat,” you taunt, before running towards him.

Bucky’s deflecting your punches one after another. Maybe he’s glad he was the one who taught you everything you know because your moves were predictable—if it were another person, there is no doubt they would’ve been on the ground with multiple concussions bleeding out already. You’re ruthless when you do a triple roundhouse kick on him. On the fourth one, he manages to catch your leg and twists it, sending you to the ground with a groan.

How familiar this scene was, Bucky thinks.

Some forty-years ago, Hydra brought a woman into the training room. There was no further instruction than to train you and that’s what he did. He could tell you were well trained already—compliant and pliable. You were good. And you were just like him, injected with a serum that made you a hundred times more efficient and stronger. In just under a year, Hydra would start sending you on missions. Sometimes with him, sometimes alone.

During training, the both of you would spar for hours, leaving each other bloody and bruised, but it didn’t matter to the overlookers, the both of you would heal in a few hours anyways.

Once you pick yourself back up, he pulls a gun out on you. “Stop this,” he commands.

You smirk, “You going to shoot me, Soldat? I want to see you try.”

He clenches his jaw. You continue to look at him, a dark look on your face that shows no sign of true recognition.

His thoughts are disrupted when you tackle him onto the ground. You kick his gun away and pin his arms down as you straddle him. “I’m going to kill you,” you declare, “I’m going to put a bullet through your head.”

When he looks up at you, your eyes are full of rage. Bucky doesn’t know whether that’s the brainwashed version of you talking or the actual you talking—maybe both.

“What are you going to do after you kill me?” he says, irritated. C’mon, please recognize me. “This is all that remains of Hydra. Half the troops are already dead. One of your new leaders is dead. In a few hours, Hydra will be no more. What will you do after that? What are you going to do after you kill me?”

“What does it matter? You’re my mission. I’m going to finish it.”

He groans at your stubbornness that was identical to his Soldier persona.

He says your name slowly. “Get off. You can walk away from this.”

You frown, but he continues, “I know how you feel. You’re feeling helpless.” He clears his throat, “There’s someone behind this version of you. I want to talk to her.”

“What are you talking about?” you utter in annoyance. “Stop stalling.”

He says that name again, with calamity and care. You want to rip out his tongue.

“Let me talk to her. Please.”

“I don’t know who you’re talking about!” you shout, grabbing for the gun that’s strapped onto your waist. “Stop talkin–”

“I was in the cell next to yours. You liked the colour green. You were wearing white when we first met. You always wanted to visit Bucharest. You hated the leaky cold showers in the Siberian facility,” he rambles, trying to remember every single thing about you in a desperate attempt to get your attention so this version of you won’t shoot him in the face.

And for a moment, it works because your hand freezes on the grip of your gun. He takes that moment to flip you over, so you’re under him now, hands pinned above your head. He takes your gun and throws it behind him.

You snarl at him while trying to escape his grasp. “I know you’re under there,” he says. “Please, come through. Please talk to me.”

Your face scrunches in pain, not from him—he would never hurt you—but from the mental warfare that’s currently going on in your mind. You close your eyes as he speaks again. “Listen to my voice, you know me, don’t you? мой милая.”

My darling.

For a moment, your entire body tenses up and then you let out a painful breath. When your eyelids start to flutter open, he finally sees the eyes he came to know and rely on—eyes he came to love.

The both of you are looking at each other unblinking. A scene neither of you expected but always dreamt about.

You break the silence with a whisper of, “James?”

Bucky slowly nods at your disbelief. Finally, he thinks. But such respite doesn’t last long, because seconds later, you hook your foot under his and flip him over and escape his grasp.

There's darkness in your eyes and he can tell that the Soldate is back and the fighting resumes.

You’re chasing him down the twisting hallway and when you catch up, you grab his shoulder and throw a punch to his jaw. He stumbles back and then a voice comes through the comms.

“Just took down the second one.” Steve. “Bucky, how are you holding up? You’ve been quiet ever since we split up.”

He’s trying his best to block your hand, which now has a damn pocket knife. Your quick movements are starting to tire him out. Maybe he taught you too well, he thinks.

“Buck? Bucky. Confirm your status, right now.”

Groaning in frustration, he taps his earpiece. “I’m fine,” he grunts. A second later, “Shit!” he huffs out as you nearly slice his face.

“You don’t sound fine. Is she with you? I’m sending back up.”

“No!” he says, “Don’t send anyone. I can handle her.”

In truth, he’s struggling right now—your stamina has always been better than his—but he’s worried that you’re going to accidentally get hurt and even more agitated when people appear. His main priority was keeping you safe. Fuck the mission statement they talked about back on the Quinjet.

You’re angry—no, you’re extremely angry at him. It doesn’t take a genius to tell. It’s a mixture of pure rage from both the brainwashed and actual you.

He supposed he deserved it. You should be angry. Because for the longest time, it was you and him.

Other than turning you into a ruthless assassin just like him, an unexpected companionship also formed during those hazy in-between moments when the two of you weren’t frozen or on the metal chair getting fried by those machines—during the times when he was just Bucky and you were just you, two unfortunate innocent souls that shared the same suffering.

They weren’t pleasant moments. It was dehumanising. It was getting shoved into draughty cells with nothing but a blanket until it was time to train or time to embark on a mission. Luckily, your cells were next to each other and it made the endless nights a little more bearable. He was a little off-putting at first, but when he yelled at you to stop crying because they would torture you even more for it, you knew he meant well.

During your shared time together, glimpses of your true selves would seldom come up and you would tell each other about the little bits and pieces of a life once known. And the both of you would hold onto each other's memories and stories in case the other forgets.

And whenever they prep the two of you for the chamber due to there being no current missions for the time being, the two of you would look at each other—a look of longing with the secret squeezing of each other's hand before going under.

Despite the absolute awful situation the two of you were in at the time, the both of you were hopeful for the next shared moments together. Because even when all hope was gone, you had each other. And that was good enough for the two of you.

He misses you. So damn much.

“Shut up,” you mutter.

He didn’t even realise he said it outloud. “Well, I do,” he admits, his back hitting a wall.

“You talk too much, Soldat,” you say, creeping up on him. “I ought to cut your throat.”

“I’m sorry I left you with them.”

You halt in your steps and your jaw ticks. In a second, you pounce on him, your knife against his throat. He’s gripping your hand to stop you from continuing your job.

He says your name again. You’re pushing but he’s pushing back just as hard. “I’m sorry…” he repeats, “I’m so sorry.”

The desperation in his voice… You glance up at him slowly and he sees the pink forming in your eyes and your trembling lips. “What are you doing? What are you doing to me?” you whisper.

He sees the internal war behind your eyes once again. Bucky gulps for a moment before letting go of your hand, trusting that you won’t do any actual harm, and moves his hands so he’s cupping your face, firm enough so you’re forced to look at him. You look into his eyes for a second, then a minute, and for a moment, everything stops. Your breath hitches, because those eyes… those arctic blues… you know them. You fell in love with them many years ago.

A realisation washes over your face, one that Bucky doesn’t miss. You’re back.

The first tear falls. Then the second. “Bucky.”

“Hey, sweetheart,” he whispers.

You let out a small cry before you press the blade harder against his neck, your grip a vice from his betrayal. He could feel the sharp cold metal pierce through his skin ever so slightly, but he doesn’t try and stop you.

“Give me a reason to not kill you right now,” you grit through tears. “You left me. You left me behind to rot alone. You promised me. You fucking promised,” you say, voice laced with venom and so much hurt.

Bucky’s heart breaks at the sadness of your voice. Because he did promise. There wasn’t much to do in the cells other than throw around false hope. But whenever he told you he was going to escape one day and that he was going to take you with him—it didn’t feel like false promises at all because it wasn’t, and you knew it too.

Until he broke that promise and left you all alone.

“I didn’t mean to,” he says, voice breaking. “I didn’t mean to leave you there with them.”

“I waited for you,” you cry. “Day and night I waited for you to come back. Even when they relocated, I waited for you because I knew you’d find me.”

You remember that day clearly. Everyone was in a frenzy when the death of Alexander Pierce broke out and that they could not locate the Soldat. For a moment, you could taste your own freedom because government officials would come anytime now and finally arrest all these criminals. But right when they came, a few Hydra officers managed to escape and took you with them, and when you woke up, you didn’t know where the hell you were. But even then you didn’t lose hope because James Buchanan “Bucky” Barnes, the name you committed to memory, was going to come for you just like he promised.

Until days, months, and eventually, a year came with no sign of him.

You were angry at first, but it slowly turned into worry because what if something bad had happened to him? But what do you know? You were stuck in this building and only went out whenever they spoke those trigger words to you. And you were always under their watchful eyes, giving you no chance to even attempt an escape. Surely he would never break his promise to you so something must’ve happened to him, you told yourself multiple times.

But he was standing here right in front of you. Alive. We’re under attack, your handler said to you moments ago, Kill the Soldat before he kills you.

“You’re a liar. You never cared about me,” you hiss.

Sometimes, it got too much. But whenever reality was a bit too hard to endure, Bucky was there, always reaching his hand out to you through the metal cage, which you took and held tight. And it meant the world to you, that someone cared.

“All those moments, did it even mean anything to you?”

He uses this opportunity to pull your arms down slightly, knife finally away from his neck and his eyes start to sting from his own tears. “They meant everything to me. I care about you.”

You look up at him with a defeated expression and Bucky never wanted to punch himself in the face more. “Then why? Why didn’t you come back for me?”

“I did,” he chokes out. “When I escaped, the first thing I did was go back for you, but the facility had already been raided and there was no one there. I checked every inch of the building.”

Bucky had never felt so scared, because what if the government took you too? They would never understand—framing you as a villain even though that was far from the truth. But there was no news of your capture, so with a breath of relief, Bucky continued to look through other known Hydra facilities.

“I tried my best looking for you, but I also had to be careful because I was a wanted man at the time. When months passed by and there were no clues, I thought that maybe you had escaped. I was in Bucharest waiting for you. Remember how you said you always wanted to go there? I knew that if you escaped, you’d find me there. Even when you didn’t show, I never gave up. Steve… I think I told you about him once—he found me, he helped me and cleared my name. After that, I still searched for you but it all ended up being dead ends. And…” he pauses for a moment, “and so I thought you were dead. I should’ve tried harder. I’m sorry.”

He had mourned you and blamed himself endlessly for it.

He knows he should’ve asked for help, but instead, he took this task upon himself until it got too much—because that was the one thing he struggled with the most, asking for help.

When his side of the story finally comes to light, you break into a sob. “I don’t expect you to forgive me,” he says, “but please, drop the weapon and let me help you.”

You swallow hard at his confession. He never stopped looking for you. You didn’t even consider how hard it must’ve been for him after everything and yet you’re lashing out on him.

“How are you going to help me?” you say. “I’m a mess. All you have to do is say those words and I turn into a weapon.”

Twelve. Ember. Fragment. Nine. Academy. Order. Frigid. Yearning. Blue.

Those were your trigger words.

“I got you out of your trance, didn’t I?” he says with a gentle smile.

Hydra needed you to rebuild their empire and they relied on those nine words to do so. To them, those nine words were your greatest weakness but one of them, the last one, the one they liked to spit out in vexation, was also your greatest strength—your salvation.

Blue.

You think back, moments prior, when all he had to do was use his voice and all you had to do was look into the blues of his eyes. Hydra can repeat those words all they want, but Bucky would always be able to bring you back.

At that, your grip relaxes and the knife finally drops onto the floor, it’s noise ricocheting off the walls.

“There’s a place called Wakanda and I know someone there who can help you. Her name’s Ayo and she’s amazing. She helped me overcome my words.”

He brings his hands back up to cradle your face and you shutter at the familiar touch—at the calluses on his palms. “And I think you’ll like it there. It’s quiet and there’s so much… green.”

You let out a small laugh through your tears but doubt still fills your mind. “But… all the things I did,” you whimper, “I did such terrible unforgivable things. There’s… there’s so much blood on my hands.”

Sadness flares around his heart. It was all so familiar. He knows the feeling.

“It’s not going to be easy. God knows how long it took for me to believe that none of it was my fault. But let me be the first one to tell you,” he says, wiping your tears away with his thumb. “None of what you did was your fault. You were a victim.” He swallows a deep breath, “There are going to be days where it’ll be too much too bear and there are going to be nights where all those casualties will haunt you,” he admits. “But… but you’ll get there. Someday, you’ll learn to stop punishing yourself for something you didn’t do.”

And he vows that he’ll help you every step of the way.

You breathe out slowly, digesting all his words. “You can trust me,” he tells you, “I won’t let you down this time. I’ll be here.”

Blinking up at him, the small hesitant part of you so desperately wanted to say, “How can I trust you?” but his eyes were telling you everything you needed to know. Because it was filled with nothing but honour and truth.

He breaks away from you and reaches out his hand. An invitation. You stare at it for a while, then you slowly lift yours and brush your fingers amongst his before grabbing it tightly—a truce of sorts, a promise. He squeezes back in return, a loving smile on his face, just like all those nights many moonlights ago.

Your breath hitches when he pulls you into his embrace, your face burying perfectly into the valley of his chest. He wraps his arms around you in urgency, in fear, almost afraid you’ll slip out if he doesn’t.

“It’s over,” he mumbles into your hair.

Because two floors down an explosion erupts, finishing off the last remaining garrison of troops. Three hallways down, Natasha sets fire to a room that contained the other small red leather book that held those nine suffocating words written in Russian. Outside, the last Hydra officer attempting to flee falls to his knees from an arrow to the chest. And the only hope they had left to rebuild their regime was safely in Bucky’s arms.

He pulls away and uses his thumb to rub gently across your cheek, “It’s over. The war is finally over.”

Now that the worst is over, Bucky’s hopeful. There will be other conflicts to come, that was just how it worked, but this one, the one that held you and him underwater for years was finally over. War always took too much, but this time, it gave something back. Because among the ashes and ruins you came back to him, no more oceans in between.

“What do we do now?” you press nervously. You were taken at a young age and spent years in the Red Room before you were sold off to Hydra. Like Bucky, you’re in the wrong time period, there’s no one to go back to.

There’s so many things you could do, Bucky thinks. You can finally start living the life you deserved, the life that was taken from you too early. He’ll have to explain all this to his teammates but he knows they’ll understand. They treated him so well, there’s no doubt they’ll show the same kindness for you. Then, he’ll go with you to Wakanda, get rid of the words, maybe stay there for a while so you could heal—maybe show you the goats he took care of during his time there.

You’ll probably adjust to the 21st century better than him—you won’t need to start off with a flip phone, that’s for sure. He’ll make you listen to all the great records and watch all the movies you missed out on. There’s so many things he wanted to do with you. He knows you have no memories, no recollection. It didn’t matter, Bucky thinks, he would make new memories with you, ones worth cherishing and remembering. If you’ll have him, of course.

But first and most importantly, “Let’s get you cleaned up, okay? Then we can talk about it,” he says, rubbing the grime off your nose.

He grabs your hand and heads for the exit. But before he does, you pick up your knife from the floor and in one quick motion, you spin around and throw it. The knife embeds itself into the wall a few metres away, right next to a prying face. You stand in front of Bucky and stare at the intruder with a murderous gaze and Bucky’s heart races at the thought of you still wanting to protect him after everything.

The blond raises his arms up in surrender.

“Steve,” Bucky says from behind and you briefly recognize that name. You turn around to look at him and he meets your eyes, nodding. You relax your stance.

“Hi,” Steve says, voice slightly hoarse. “I hope I didn’t interrupt anything.”

Bucky scoffs at him, as if he wasn’t eavesdropping the whole time.

Steve looks at the both of you, then a gentle smile adorns his face. “C’mon, the rest are waiting outside for you both.”

You step forward. This is it. Freedom. A new life. Bucky notices your hesitation as you suddenly stop in your tracks. Intertwining his fingers with yours, he squeezes with reassurance. You take a deep breath, then the two of you follow Steve to the exit, leaving behind the smoke and memories of your old life.

Outside, the sun comes up slowly but surely on the horizon, painting the awakening sky a gentle warm hue of oranges and pinks.

A new beginning awaits.

#bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes angst #bucky barnes fic #bucky barnes x y/n #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky barnes oneshot #bucky barnes imagine #bucky #bucky barnes

[margaretthatchersdead]

Reasons to end the monarchy: Charles Edition

Well it's the coronation so you know what it's time for.

The entire concept of a monarchy is actively undemocratic. The head of state should not be someone who is only in that position because they were born into a certain family.

Having a monarchy upholds classism as a specific family of great wealth and power are viewed as superior to others.

They stand for a history of racism and imperialism. This country has done some truly terrible things in its history and the monarchy are a symbol of that. In order to attempt to begin to undo the harm that we have done, we need to remove this symbol of oppression.

The royal family have previously lobbied the government to hide their own personal wealth. Despite this, we are obviously aware that they have a large amount of wealth.

Prince Charles has himself lobbied the government on a number of occasions. His 'black spider memos' show that he has repeatedly pressured ministers on a wide range of topics from the Iraq war to badger culling to alternative therapies. He has used his power to lobby the government on subjects that would affect him.

The monarch does not occupy a ceremonial role as is frequently claimed. Ministers and civil servants have to consult the monarch. Civil servants have to get the consent of the royals on pieces of legislation, which can cause delays on implementation.

Even if the monarch did occupy a purely ceremonial role, as a literal billionaire he wields a ridiculously high amount of power over people.

Windsor Castle brings in less money than Windsor Legoland does. The many castles that are owned by the royal family could be used to create spaces for the public to enjoy or to be used as a shelter for the homeless. The Louvre in Paris used to be house of the French monarchy and gets over twenty times the tourists. Edinburgh castle hasn't had the monarchy live in it for centuries and yet still brings in tourism.

Prince Andrew is widely known to be connected to Jeffrey Epstein; yet he has not had to face any repercussions for his actions despite blatantly lying when being asked about his actions. The royal family have defended him and prevented him from facing the consequences of his actions.

They cost around £334 million per year. This money could be used to help the poor, given to the NHS, to repair and build infrastructure, to support small businesses that are struggling, pretty much anything.

The royal household publishes a much lower figure about the cost of the royal family, so they are actively trying to cover up their cost.

Charles has had access to confidential Cabinet papers, undermining our democracy.

He has publicly championed alternative medicine and has repeatedly promoted it. He sent at least seven letters to the Medicines and Healthcare products Regulatory Agency, that then shortly relaxed the rules governing the labeling of herbal products, ones he as part of Charles's Duchy Originals produces.

He lobbied the health secretary regarding greater provision of alternative treatments on the NHS.

In 2018, 46% of Britons wanted him to abdicate immediately after Elizabeth died. He’s barely wanted by the country even with the sheer amount of pro-monarchy propaganda going around. Charles specifically is very unpopular.

In order to speak to him, broadcasters had to sign a 15-page contract, which includes Clarence house attending the rough and fine cut edits of films and if unhappy can remove that contribution, as well as stipulating that all questions directed at him must be pre-approved and vetted by his representative.

His personal wealth is £1.8 billion. He inherited a large amount of this from Elizabeth, with it being exempt from inheritance tax. Having an immunity from this tax when others don’t is ridiculous.

The Duchy of Cornwall was named in the Paradise papers.

The coronation is going to cost £100 million during a cost of living crisis.

People have been banned from protesting Charles with official warning letters were sent to anti-monarchists.

Protestors who block roads, airports and railways could face an entire year behind bars. Locking yourself to others, objects or buildings could go to prison for six months and face an unlimited fine. Police are allowed to head off disruption by stopping and searching protestors that they suspect.

The public were encouraged to swear allegiance to the new King when he gets sworn in, this is a deeply disturbing suggestion.

He's a billionaire who's going to use the public's money to celebrate himself.

The monarch has sweeping immunity from many laws

He owns business parks and small rented cottages, six of the ten top residential homes, 285,000 acres of mineral rich land. He’s ridiculously rich in a country where so many people are facing extreme poverty.

#uk politics #british royal family #fuck the monarchy #imperialism #royals #king charles III #may he end up like the first

[maraxp]

                       ⚓  ♰     .     ࣪  🪨 ♡‌  ㅤ۪ㅤ    ⏖     ꒪       𓉼    

⟣ character : live action!roronoa zoro // fem!reader

⟣ synopsis : after witnessing the fight with zoro and dracule mihawk with the rest of the strawhats, you were by zoro’s side as he healed, comforting him and so on, not knowing that he was secretly listening to you.

⟣ word count : 672 words.

⟣ tags : not proofread (i’ll fix that later), strawhat!reader, female / afab reader, mentions of injury, praise, pet names “dear” and “jerk”, no use of “(y/n)”, fluff, swearing, mentions of alcohol, semi-soft! reader, comfort, eventual smut (not in this post / slow burn), will add more as the series progresses

⟣ note : yes, it is the live action zoro we all know and love. this is my first fanfiction here but it’s not my very first fic ever. english is not my first language so if i made any mistake, please let me know !

it scared you. the fight between roronoa and that mihawk guy scared you, and you didnt know why.

was it because of the fear eating your mind when you saw roronoa’s huge gash on his chest? was it remembering zoro asking to duel mihawk to “fight to the death” while you secretly doubted that he was going to lose? probably both.

when luffy rushed to search for help, you stared at zoro laid out on the ground. you weren’t disappointed, you weren’t disgusted either. you were afraid that he was going to die from how deep the wound was.

when he was brought in, your heart was racing. you didn’t know that zoro being severely injured would actually make you have a heart attack. then again, you saw that he was a skilled swordsman, you knew it was a rare chance for him to get cut up like that.

everyone took turns visiting zoro as he slept with his wounds treated, telling him stories and what not to keep him closer to life than death. when it was your turn, your heart raced. you didn’t know what to say, so you nervously walked in the room, playing with your fingers.

you sat by zoro’s side as he laid, staring at his features. what made your heart slow was the soft rise and fall of his chest, and the sound of his relaxed breathing. time flew by as you sat by his side, humming a soft tune to let zoro know that you were there with him. your hand rested on top of his, rubbing your thumb against the top of his hand.

what you didn’t know was that you were the best comforter for him. you didn’t even realize it until now and it made you smile. you sighed as you gave zoro a soft, reassuring squeeze to his hand. all it took was a small ‘i miss you’ for your thoughts to actually cooperate and think about a genuine thing to talk about.

“you didn’t even have time to think about your actions, you jerk.” you smirked, scoffing at the memory. “nami, usopp, and i worry for you, dear. why did you want to fight that mihawk guy all of a sudden? was it the drinks? were you drunk? i don’t mind about that but still, you scared me back there, roronoa. please don’t do that again, my dear.” you whispered, it truly did frighten you but at least you’re glad that he’s alive now.

you gave his hand another soft squeeze as you raised it to your lips, giving it a small peck. “but you did very well back there, i can give you that. great job, roronoa. i’d love to see more of you in action.” you mumbled, scooting a bit closer to zoro. “we miss you, roronoa. i hope you realize that, dear.” you continued as you brought your hand up to stroke his hair.

what spooked you was when you looked at zoro’s face, you could’ve sworn you saw a tiny smirk displayed on his lips. did he hear all of that? it made you shudder a little, now feeling embarrassed.

you stumbled over your words, clearing your throat while you felt the heat rush to your face. “i’ll– uhm.. i’ll– go get—” you cleared your throat again. “uh.. i’ll go get luffy.”

when you scooted away, you gave his warm hand one more soft squeeze before gently hopping off to leave the room. that sleeping swordsman in the center of the room took your breath away, you could admit that. but you didn’t admit the sudden burn in your chest whenever he would talk to you, especially when you sat next to him back at the baratie.

was it what you thought it was? or was it just a regular heartburn without any other reason behind it? it confused you, but you would be lying if you said it didn’t make you feel at home. he made you feel at home. and you liked him for that.

if you want me to add you to my taglist, click on this link [ 🥋 ] and you’re all set !

© maraxp 2023. banner made by me. please do not copy, repost or translate any of my work without permission.

#one piece #one piece netflix #one piece live action #one piece x reader #zoro x reader #one piece zoro #roronoa zoro #zoro roronoa x reader #zoro roronoa x you #one piece x you #roronoa zoro live action #reqs open. ﹒✮ #opla #opla spoilers #opla zoro #opla zoro x reader #opla roronoa zoro

[swampjawn]

God I love animation. I love it for the way it can bring anything to life beyond the constraints of boring ol' reality, but also the ways that it's inextricably linked to, and draws on the conventions of live-action film-making.

So fuck it, let's look at how Hayao Miyazaki straight up copies some camera framing techniques from his predecessor and the other most influential Japanese filmmaker of all time, Akira Kurosawa! (Kurosawa really was the master of framing scenes around his characters, so he's a great source of inspiration)

(btw, this is a screenshot from this TV special where the two met for the first time just after the release of Kurosawa's final film. It's pretty interesting, and also very cute how nervous Miyazaki seems to be to meet one of his idols.)

Specifically, how the two each choose to break the 180 degree rule (well, not technically 'break' in the case of Kurosawa) to show their protagonists' changing destiny in "Throne of Blood" and "Princess Mononoke".

For anyone who doesn't know, the 180 degree rule is a basic film-making rule of thumb which states that in any scene where two characters interact, you should draw an imaginary line between them and the camera should always stay on one side of that line.

("In the Mood for Love" - Wong Kar-wai)

This way, one character is always looking to the right of the camera, the other is always looking to the left, and the audience doesn't get confused by the geography of the scene. Crossing this line can be disorienting, but when done intentionally, it can convey a paradigm shift of some kind in the scene.

In this scene from "Throne of Blood," (a feudal Japanese retelling of Macbeth) Washizu's wife Asaji discusses tactics with him and tries to convince him to aspire to the throne and to assassinate his lord Tsuzuki while he sleeps.

As two servants appear to notify them that Washizu's sleeping quarters are prepared, the camera dollies left and around the characters' backs. This camera movement is motivated by the motion of the servants' torches outside the room, but it also signifies a change in Washizu's outlook.

Washizu is completely silent for most of this scene, contemplating his wife's advice. But as the camera slides behind his back and across the line of action, the scene is now re-framed, illustrating his change in perspective.

He's been convinced and the trajectory of his life is about to change - and now, facing away from the camera, is the time for action.

Because the camera slides smoothly across the line, Kurosawa isn't technically breaking the 180 degree rule. Miyazaki on the other hand, takes it a little further.

The complimentary scene in Princess Mononoke comes near the start when the wise woman of the village reads Prince Ashitaka's fortune after he's cursed by the wild boar spirit. She tells him that it is his fate to leave the village and travel to the west, where he may be able to lift the curse on his arm. The trajectory of Ashitaka's life changes in this moment too. As he accepts his fate, the change is symbolized by him cutting off his hair, but also by the camera jumping the line.

Throughout this dialogue scene and even as he cuts his hair, the simulated camera sits just slightly to the side of Ashitaka's left shoulder.

But once it's done, for the final shot, the scene is reframed and we jump to the other side, where Ashitaka is now looking to the right of the camera instead of the left.

Making the camera dolly across a scene like Kurosawa's version in 2D animation is no simple task, so this transition with a simple cut is in a way subtler, in another way a bit more jarring, but it conveys the same meaning.

This is the moment when our protagonists make the choice to embark on a new destiny and re-frame their lives.

This has been an excerpt from a short video essay I made a while back, which not many people watched. I think this is at least in part due to my failure to package it well, and it seems you tumblheads like this animation/cinematography analysis stuff, so this is an experiment to see if, with the help of y'all, and a new title and thumbnail, it's at all possible to give this video a second wind in the eyes of the Youtube Gods!

So if you found this interesting, I'd appreciate if you checked it out! Thanks for reading!

#Also i spent a lot of time on the little animated bit at the start so please watch it lol #animation analysis #mini essay #video #video essay #princess mononoke #throne of blood #hayao miyazaki #akira kurosawa #Youtube #gif warning