#I was trying to make this as unsexual as possible

[aetheternity]

Pov: they catch you reading explicit content (6reeze)

A/N: I decided this is an in universe fic. Don't really need a synopsis because the title tells you exactly what it's about.

CW: Description of adult content, For some of the boys it's clearly stated romantic relationship while the others are more unclear. You can read them all as romantic or none.

-

Aether ~ You don't even bother to look up as you know it's Aether approaching you as you traverse through your favorite book on his couch. You can tell he's reading when you start to feel his breath against your shoulder and neck.

"Nosy." You mutter, smiling at his breathy chuckle.

You turn the page and not even two minutes later hear a loud gasp. You turn your head a brief giggle falling off your lips.

"What?"

"Name, you're reading a dirty book.." He teases "I thought you were so innocent too but here you are in my teapot reading about someone being ravaged." He held a hand over his chest, keeping the act going with fast paced blinks in between. Mouth wide as he continued to stare at the pages.

"You were reading along with me so you're not exactly innocent!" You bite back though you can feel embarrassment settling beneath your skin as your hands begin to sweat, face slowly burning.

"Nope, I'm an innocent bystander who didn't know what he was getting into." He playfully scoffs. You pretend to fixate back on your book turning away from him. Though it quickly feels near impossible as his mouth inches closer and closer to your neck. His breath fluttering over the skin somehow so much hotter than it had been previously.

"Do you ever imagine it's you in that situation then?" The question made you flinch. "You being the one ravaged by someone?" He giggles quickly after. Giggles like it's the most normal question one could ask.

"Idiot." You huff though it barely has bite. Your grip on the book tightens but while your eyes are scanning over the words you aren't even close to internalizing any of them. Not with Aether's breath tickling your ear lobe soon replaced by his tongue flush against your ear canal.

You squeak and the book almost flies across the room. "Put it down already." He grumbles kissing the shell of your ear. "Don't you wanna live like the protagonists in your dirty novel?"

-

Heizou ~ The two of you are the only two left at the station this late at night so when he sees your eyes sifting quickly through the words of he book he's intrigued. None of the case files on his desk had ever been nearly as intriguing as you.

"What have you got there?" He asks as he approaches

You shift your gaze to him for a brief moment before you head resumes being buried in the words on the page. "Just a novel."

"Hmm." He slides in place behind your chair, skimming along with you. You try to turn the page but he stops you. "I'm not quite finis.. oh.." He chuckles

"Let me read in peace!" You huff "Boss has been busting my ass all day. I need this."

He laughs, "You're reading something like this at the office?" He slides into place beside you on your chair. "You're not even the least bit worried I'll tell?"

"Can't exactly read it at home. I have a nosy roommate." You mutter "Pft, you're loving this too much. You're not going to tell anyone because you're too interested in how long I've been reading stuff like this."

"Ah you so get me." He chuckles sliding closer to you if that were even possible, glancing at the pages as you read. "So?"

"For as long as I've been legally allowed to buy these books."

"Hmm."

"Not going to make a big deal of it? Gasp in horror because I 'look so innocent?'" You question peering over at him.

He yawned, leaning his head against your shoulder. "It's as they say." His breath brushes over your ear canal. "It's always the quiet ones." He whispers and you can feel your skin grow hot at how close his mouth was to your ear.

You almost ask him about the paperwork he'd abandoned but you can already hear his breath even out. Small snores fluttering off his lips. He was Heizou after all. He'd most likely be fine.

-

Kazuha ~ Yeah.. he's not surprised in the slightest or perhaps it's simply because Kazuha's a roll with the punches kind of guy.

He takes a look at the cover of your book and a small smile forms against his lips. "Oh is that, Beauty and all things?"

You snap your head up, "You know this book?"

"A couple of women and men amongst Beidou's crew have been conversing over this novel. I was hoping to see what all the fuss is about."

You slide over patting the empty space on the crate you were resting on, "You can read along a bit. Don't worry I'm not that far in."

"Are you sure I'm not interrupting?" He questions but he does take the spot next to you.

You politely shake your head, "I wouldn't have invited you to sit if you were." You reposition to allow him to keep up with you.

"Thank you." He replies

You wait for his cues to flip the page. Normally a small tap at your thigh or a brief ok but after a while they stop coming.

"Kazuha? Is it ok for me to go to the next page?" He doesn't answer. You flip your head around pleasantly surprised by the soft pink tint of his cheeks and the way his eyes were slightly blown. His hand atop his mouth. "Kazuha?" You blink

"I didn't.. didn't realize it was a more explicit read.." He calmed enough to make eye contact with the clouds above. "Though that makes a fair bit more sense."

"Sorry Kazu, I thought you knew.. Have you never read anything like this before?"

He hangs his head a bit, fingering the bandages on his hands. "It's not the book.. persay.." He clears his throat. "Actually.. it's being with you.. while reading said book.."

"Oh.." Your blood might as well have drained out through your feet with how weightless you felt. "Oh." You repeated and then immediately yanked your head away. Breath catching, you slammed the book shut trying your hardest to think of any words aside from 'oh'

"Name.."

"Yeah?" You refuse to look at him.

"Would you like to accompany me to dinner once we dock?"

"Yes.."

"Ok.. thank you.." You feel his weight lift from beside you and when you finally got the courage to look up he was nowhere in sight.

-

Scaramouche ~ He'd just walked in and wordlessly laid his head on your shoulder. Well.. "laid" more like slammed his head into your shoulder without warning. Luckily he wasn't wearing his gigantic hat or it would've been worse.

You're quickly under the assumption that he's fallen asleep based on the slowing of his breaths and how quiet he was. You flipped the page becoming so drawn into the changing events that you nearly leap out of your skin at Scara's-

"What the fuck?"

"How long have you been awake?!"

"What the fuck are you reading??" He sits up pulling the cover over your finger so he could read the title. "How did they go from eating dinner to her tied to the bed post?" He looks at you in sheer disbelief. Mouth hung open and eyes narrowed.

A couple different explanations start to cloud your brain but when you open your mouth the only sound that exits is a long snort. Your breaths uneven as you roll with laughter. Sliding your hand out to keep yourself from falling off the ottoman.

"You're such a freaky weirdo." He stands and you almost get a word out but just end up squeaking and holding your stomach. Your feet slapping against the floor, the book soon flopping onto the hardwood next to you. "Absolute weirdo.." Scara huffs shaking his head, leaving you and your sobbing ribs alone.

"Scara.. pfft.. I can explain.." You call after him.

-

Venti ~ "What are you reading?"

You feel your skin melt as you look up from your comfortable sitting position on the grass. Up to Venti's softly smiling face. He tilts his head a bit still waiting for you to respond but in all honesty the only thing you can do is silently clamp and unclamp your jaw open and close.

"Oh, a secret then? Fine don't tell me." He slowly tiptoes his way to your side trying his hardest to glimpse the pages but you're watching him through the corners of your eye. Eventually he ends up on your opposite side diving to see when you remove your hand, like some kind of bird of prey.

"Venti!" You hiss. Turning the book over to the back thankful for the wordless back cover.

"Is it that bad? Is it a paranoia ridden post apocalypse? Or a horror suspense with a horrendous real life history that the author took inspiration from?" He crosses his arms still stood behind you.

You simply sigh staring down at the crinkled pages from where your finger had creased your bookmarked spot. "Just.. don't laugh at me or anything.." You flip the book open for Venti to read over your shoulder. Pleasantly surprised by how quiet he becomes.

"Oh ho ho." Venti sneers sliding a hand under the words he was currently reading. Probably knowing you'd slam the book closed if he didn't. "So a more explicit read."

Your shock was probably incredibly visible as he plops down at your side. Holding your shoulder for proper balance. "Aww don't be embarrassed, lots of people enjoy books of this nature. This market has a huge following after all."

You feel your face start to heat as you take in just how close he is. His fingers continuing to graze the pages before him. It quickly intrigued you how fast he was sifting through the sentences until a different thought dawned on you.

"Wait.. Venti-"

"Hmm?"

"How do you know these kinds of books have a lot of fans?"

"Ehe hehe, so did you happen to get this copy from Lisa or Yae?"

-

Xiao ~ He sat next to you wordlessly chomping down a bowl of almond tofu while you flipped through the pages of your book. When you'd peered up at him he appeared to be lost in thought. Eyes trained off the balcony to the surrounding area, lost in the beauty of it all.

You carefully flipped the page beginning to get enthralled with the scene playing out in your head as words from the page filled your mind. Until-

"Why are you smiling like that?"

You wrenched your head up. Staring back at a very puzzled Xiao, "Ah.. this book.. it's interesting.." You explain blinking rapidly.

"What are the contents?"

A part of you wants to know exactly when Xiao had stopped paying attention to the view and started paying attention to you. Another was skimming through ways to distract Xiao from learning about the book you'd been rereading. It was Xiao after all.. surely he'd find this kind of content disgusting and deplorable. Actually was it even ok to show him something like this? He was an adeptus, was there some kind of secret law that stated showing books like these to adepti could have you murdered at the stake?

"Name?"

Inevitably you couldn't think of anything strong enough to take his mind off your book. Well.. anything strong enough that wouldn't also make him never speak to you again. You slide the book towards him with the page you'd been reading open for his perusal.

He sifts through the content for a brief second and you slowly watch as his face turns a deeper shade of red with each passing second. He sucks in a breath and before you can break the silence he asks, "You.. do you read these often?.." He coughs like he's clearing his throat.

"Yeah.. every now and then.."

"Hmm." He doesn't say much else for the rest of the night or even to you the next day when he leaves for patrol. For a brief moment you're worried he's still extremely uncomfortable over your reading choices.

You head out for the day as well doing your normal errands and while you're on your way back the thoughts about his face and how flushed he'd been started to dawn on you again. He didn't seem uneasy because of you, just the content itself.. maybe it had been a bad idea to show that kind of content to him. He'd probably never seen anything like that before either.

You let out a little sigh, you'd reached a conclusion as you climbed into the elevator. You could easily just explain everything, maybe even what your enjoyment of the book meant to you and everything should be ok.

You feel a small sense of dread settle in the pit of your stomach. Every step up from the lobby heavier than the last. You took a final deep breath as you reached his door, turning the knob and nearly dropping your bags when you walked in. Xiao sat cross-legged atop his normally empty bed, the book you'd been reading yesterday plucked between his fingers. Your stomach quickly settled as you walked your way towards the bed plopping down on the edge, only getting his attention once your weight settled on the firm mattress.

"Your book.. it's.." He grumbles darting his eyes away. You can't help your breathless snicker.

"I assumed you didn't like that I was reading it." Your fingers brushed aside strands of hair from his forehead.

"I have no qualms over your desires to continue indulging in this. I simply wished to better understand."

"Mm but you hate it."

"I do not wish to continue reading it, yes."

#I was trying to make this as unsexual as possible #so Heizou's part is different from what I'd originally wanted to do #6reeze x reader #aether x reader #heizou x reader #kazuha x reader #scaramouche x reader #venti x reader #xiao x reader #aether headcanons #heizou headcanons #kazuha headcanons #scaramouche headcanons #venti headcanons #xiao headcanons

[overheardatthecontinental]

Chapter 16 of Endlessly Dangerous now up :)

John led Helen away from the club but didn't lessen his grip. There were still enemies and people who would be watching from the shadows. Even in the haven of the Continental, he was taking no chances. 

He frowned as they reached the elevator, remembering that they would have to see Charon to get the room key.

Helen’s presence would likely keep the Concierge from saying anything too outlandish.

He pressed the call button and the doors opened immediately. He led her in, pressing the button for the lobby.

Chances were that Winston had already told Charon about the room he had set aside for them but he needed to think about how to phrase the conversation to make it sound as unsexual as possible. Charon would not have forgotten their little rendezvous in the gallery.

He couldn’t stop Charon from having seen the footage but he could try to minimize the damage.

The doors to the elevator closed and Helen turned towards him, reaching her hand up to his neck.

“Hels,” he murmured, “What are you doing?”

She answered with a teasing smile. “I wasn’t done yet,” she told him, pulling him down for a kiss.

At once, all thoughts of propriety went out the window. He wasn’t done, either

She’d caught him at the right time, he thought. Between the danger of the gallery and the insanity of M’s apartment, John's ability to see reason was greatly diminished. And the kiss in the club had only whet his appetite for more.

John grabbed her face, backing her against the elevator wall, pressing his body into hers.

Helen moaned. Her hips rolled against him as her tongue swept at the seam of his lips. Away from prying eyes, he deepened the kiss. He let one hand curl into her hair, holding her just where he wanted her while the other hand massaged its way down her neck, her back.

Her slitted leg rubbed against his and Christ, the things he could do to her with just a little more time…

It wasn’t fair that every time they started, he knew they would soon be interrupted. That the elevator doors would open.

And yet, he was more afraid of Helen making a move when they were truly alone. 

He was getting closer and closer to being unable to deny her anything. Would he be able to resist her if she tried this upstairs, in the room that had been booked? Maybe they should just go home. At least there he could lock himself away in his room.

There was a ding and the elevator came to a stop, the doors opening.

John broke away, his breathing heavier than it had been after killing three men earlier. 

He quickly attempted to compose himself.

Helen, to her credit, simply grinned at him and walked out of the elevator like she hadn’t just been rubbing up against him.

He followed her out into the lobby. Only a few guests remained; the rest either tucked away in their rooms for the night or relaxing in the club below. Which meant that only a few people were watching him hurry after Helen like a dazed puppy as she made her way to the front desk.

“Hey, handsome,” she said, leaning against the desk.

John did his best to ignore the flutter of annoyance at the endearment.

“Hello, my dear. I’m sorry we did not get the chance to catch up earlier,” he said, sounding genuinely remorseful. “Are you doing alright?”

“I’m fine. M’s focusing on John more than he is me.”

If she meant that statement to ease Charon’s current opinion of John, it didn’t. The Concierge just ignored his presence.

"I worry about your health.”

Helen rolled her eyes. "My health is fine."

Charon raised a brow. "I doubt the stress is good for you."

“No more than it has been for the last year,” she pointed out. Her tone was casual but John could detect the barest hint of bitterness in her words. Then she smiled, like nothing happened and added snarkily, “When this is all over, I'll be sure to consult my pulmonologist.”

Charon frowned. 

“Winston said he set aside a room,” John said, interrupting before Charon had a chance to reply.

The Concierge’s eyes flashed to John, even as a cordial smile graced his face. “He did.” Then to Helen said, “I hope you don’t mind– I upgraded you to a suite.”

John had stayed in the Continentals across the globe thousands of times. In between living situations, he’d often resided in New York for weeks at a time. He’d stayed in nearly every room over the course of many years.

While there were certainly suites with single beds, John was willing to bet that Charon had placed him in a suite with multiple rooms.

“You didn’t have to do that,” she said.

“It was no trouble. Believe me.” Charon passed the keys across the desk with his best customer service smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes. “Enjoy your stay. And I will see you tomorrow?”

Fuck. John had almost forgotten about lunch with Charon’s family. 

His hopes of not having to deal with the Concierge outside of Continental grounds were quickly dashed. What were the chances that Charon would follow similar rules in front of his family?

John could just imagine Charon lunging across a table to hit him or asking for help bringing something in from somewhere and attempting to strangle him.

“Of course,” Helen answered with a smile. “Good night!”

“Good night,” he echoed as Helen turned back to the elevators. As soon as her back turned, the Concierge’s expression darkened.

Great. Fan-fucking-tastic.

John said nothing, choosing to follow Helen instead.

The elevator doors opened. Several people already occupied the space, likely leaving the club to return to their rooms. He recognized a few by face and none by name. 

It was probably a good thing, he thought. An empty elevator on the way to their room was almost tempting fate.

Still, John made a show of wrapping an arm around her.

To Helen, it was probably a mild form of PDA but to everyone else in the elevator, it denoted possession. And, in the unlikely event that anyone tried anything, he'd be able to maneuver her quickly.

He'd never seen so many people conscientiously avoid looking at him.

The ride up was slow as they waited through multiple stops before finally getting out on the fifteenth floor.

Their suite was one usually reserved for dignitaries: members of the High Table, traveling nobility, and their entourages. John had never stayed in such a room but had visited often enough when accepting assignments or negotiating contracts.

It opened into a large sitting area, complete with a breakfast nook, a bar, and a couch in front of a large fireplace. A balcony ran the length of the suite, with its own table set. There was an executive area with a decent-sized table and an office set for meetings and three bedrooms attached. Each room had its own bathroom with the master bedroom including a large tub and separate walk-in shower.

Helen set her purse on the bar as she explored the space, oohing and aahing at the amenities attached. John took off his jacket, tossing it on the arm of the couch. He sat back and watched her check out each of the rooms in turn.

“This seems just the slightest bit excessive,” she said as she exited the third bedroom.

He agreed but avoided pointing out the obvious. Charon had very purposefully given them no excuses to wind up in bed together.

Which was definitely for the best.

Probably.

He was almost certain.

“But, damn, look at all this space.” She glanced over her shoulder with a playful smile. “If we move the coffee table, I think there’s definitely enough room for you to do a pirouette or some shit.”

John chuckled. “You’re not letting that go, are you?”

Helen shot him a look that answered the question for him.

He couldn’t bring himself to be annoyed or disappointed. That sheer look of joy in her eyes made his stomach twist.

“Where did you learn?” she asked, crossing the room and taking a seat next to him on the couch. She angled towards him, her arm on the back of the couch. She rested her head in her hand.

“It was part of our lessons at the orphanage,” he admitted. “Then, at the theater we stayed at when we moved to the U.S.”

Helen blinked. “You lived in a theater?”

That was harder to explain, involving a great many details about the Ruska Roma community and their role under the Table and the Director’s attempt at bringing them prominence and prestige.

He tried his best to simplify it. “The ballet teacher from the orphanage decided to migrate to New York. She bought a theater and renovated some of the upper levels into living quarters. Brought some of us with her to work.”

Helen frowned, her brow furrowing. “How old were you again?”

“When we moved?” He shrugged. “Nine or ten, I think.”

“So, are child labor laws not applicable in the underworld?”

John shook his head, vaguely amused at the innocence of her question. “The entertainment industry has a lot of loopholes.” He left out that no one particularly gave a fuck about a bunch of immigrant kids, provided they had a roof over their heads. “But, no, the underworld doesn’t really care so long as they’re not drawing attention to themselves.”

“Hmm.” She hummed, clearly unimpressed. “How did you feel about it?”

He shrugged. It had been so long since he’d given that time of his life more than a passing thought. “Didn’t really know anything different. And life here was better than in Belarus.”

“You must have been good. For your teacher to have chosen you to go with her.”

He tried to imagine the Director giving any sort of compliment beyond, “That wasn’t terrible,” or “I’ve certainly seen you do worse”. He doubted she’d ever deemed anyone’s work as good. But she had favored him, at least to some degree.

“I was alright,” he said. “But it’s been a long time.

Multiple decades had passed since he’d done more than basic warm up stretches.

He’d be lying if he said that ballet training hadn’t prepared him for some of the work he did. The discipline, the dexterity, the ability to withstand tremendous pain without flinching… But he hadn’t actually danced since leaving Tarkovsky. 

“How long?” 

Jesus, he felt old thinking back to the last time he’d been in that theater. “About thirty years.”

Her brow raised. “So, you really didn’t like ballet.”

John returned her look, teasingly challenging the assumption. “I was a small, teenage boy in a world where might was right. Being decent at ballet did not result in acclaim.”

She pulled her head out of her hand, dropping her arm behind him so that her fingers slipped under his hair and traced the back of his neck.

“You expect me to believe the girls weren’t all over young Jardani?”

He tried not to have a physical reaction to the way his given name sounded on her lips. What had she asked him again?

Right. Girls. That was almost laughable.

“Hardly, they tended to go for the other guys.”

Although he’d still been a young teen when he’d left Tarkovsky, the girls around him had never shown any such interest. He’d been friends, or at least friendly, with quite a few of them. They were far more likely to ask him to practice with them or study than anything seemingly romantic.

“Or your oblivious nature strikes again.”

Now John raised a brow incredulously. “Oblivious?”

There were a lot of words he’d used to describe himself but oblivious wasn’t one of them. It couldn’t be, given how many enemies he had.

She gave him a pointed look. “O-bliv-ious.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“I’m talking about the fact that anything short of a proposition seems to go over your head.”

“That’s not true,” he protested. He’d fully admit that it had taken him a little bit to realize that Helen had been flirting with him but, it wasn't that long.

“Okay. What about tonight?”

What about tonight? He thought.

“You mean…” he wasn’t sure how to politely word what they had done before going into the actual gala. “The South Wing?”

Helen snorted, her face pinched as she tried and failed to fight a smile. “No. Me directly telling you to kiss me doesn’t count, although it does prove my point. I’m talking about when we first arrived at the gala.”

John blinked, still unsure what she was talking about. After a minute of recounting their arrival in his head, he shrugged.

“Oh, sweet Jesus. Vivien, John.”

“Vivien wasn’t flirting with me,” he said, shaking his head. They’d talked for all of a minute before she’d left and none of them had said anything of note. “She knew I was there with you.”

Helen burst into laughter at that. “You’re adorable if you think that makes a difference. Did you really not notice the way she was looking at you? Or how devastated she was when you didn’t recognize her?”

He blinked again, trying to recall anything from their short encounter. “How was any of that flirting? She barely said a word to me.”

“Okay,” Helen said, shaking her head. “Now I’m feeling a lot better about how long it took you to realize that I was flirting with you.”

 He opened his mouth to respond before realizing he didn’t know how to actually respond to that. 

“When one person has romantic or sexual feelings for another person,” she said slowly, as if explaining a basic principle to a child. John half-glared in her direction but Helen didn’t appear to care. “Usually, they’ll try to establish some sort of connection either with their words or eyes or even physical touch. Or, what we would call flirting.”

“Okay, I get it,” he said dryly, rolling his eyes.

“It’s often done without actually stating explicit intent,” she continued, ignoring his words even as she grinned in his direction. “For example, one might stare a bit too long. A touch,” her hand caressed the back of his neck, “might linger.”

"Helen," he murmured, unsure if he was saying her name as a warning or a prayer.

Helen reached around him, resting her forearm on his shoulder. The hand that had just been rubbing his neck dropped to her skirt, which she pulled open at the slit. Before he had time to even wonder what her next move would be, she leaned onto her arm and swung a leg over his lap until she was straddling him.

“Or they might lean heavily on innuendo. Hinting at what they’re thinking and feeling to see how the other responds. In cases where one person is a little dense, the other might have to be very direct: tell you flat out that they want you to kiss them.”

Fuck. 

She was close now. Her face was only a few inches from his own. He would barely have to lean forward to kiss her. His hands dug into the couch cushion below them as he attempted to keep them still.

How the fuck was he supposed to resist this?

And why the fuck was he still trying?

Her tongue darted out, wetting her lower lip as she gazed across at him.

“Hels,” he said, desperately trying to think of something he could say to make her understand.

She gave him a soft smile. “What’s your excuse this time?” she asked in a teasing tone. “You won’t kiss me unless there’s an audience? I’m too vulnerable to know what I’m thinking?”

He had a good one, somewhere. Some sort of excuse, in the back of his mind, for just this an occasion. Locked and loaded.

Of course, that was before Helen rolled her hips against him. His cock, which had been half-hard since she kissed him in the elevator, was straining against his pants already. And he was unable to shift without her feeling exactly what she was doing to him.

Did she think he didn’t want this?

That he hadn’t imagined how she would taste and feel and look under his hands and mouth? That he hadn’t already brought himself to release with her name on his lips?

His resistance had never been about him. Not for a second. It had always been about her. 

And since his excuses had fallen flat, perhaps it was time for the one weapon in his arsenal he typically avoided. Honesty. 

“You know I want you,” he said, thinking back to every superfluous touch. Every shared smile and lingering glances. The kisses and the oh-so obvious excuses. Helen teasing him, daring him to cross the line. “You know.”

“Then why are you fighting this?” she asked, not unkindly.

John really wished he could remember. He paused, forcing himself to come up with something. Anything.

"I'm trying not to take advantage of you,” he said tightly, almost pleading with her to understand his plight.

I want you. I want you so much I think it might ruin me. And I know I don’t deserve you but I’m trying.

"Take advantage?" she repeated, sounding amused. “Okay, I don't know if this is some outdated attempt at chivalry or whatnot, but this is the twenty-first century. I am an adult. And, no matter what you and Charon seem to think, I am fully capable of making my own decisions and setting my own boundaries."

Was that what this was?

He’d been trying to protect her from the part of him that was like Mikhail– dark and selfish and obsessive– by going as hard as he could in the opposite direction, all the time forgetting that it was never his decision to make. The when and what and how were not up to him and him alone.

Helen had the say. 

Helen had the only say that mattered.

John swallowed, so close to losing complete control and taking her without another thought. He forced himself to slow down.

He wasn’t M. 

“I need you to be sure,” he told her, even as his hands relaxed from the cushions and trailed up against the bare skin of her thighs. “Because, I swear, Helen, I am so much worse than M ever could be. And I will not let you go.”

She didn’t respond right away and the silence made the beating of his heart seem deafening.

John didn’t know what he would do if she went back now. If he would be able to release his grip on her and let her slide off his lap without moving, stopping her or begging her to come back. He wasn’t certain he’d truly be able to let her go, if that was her wish.

In the darkest thoughts he usually ignored, he could see himself becoming desperate and unhinged. Following her, even when this was all over and M was dead, under the guise of protecting her. But no matter how hard he tried, he always seemed to cross the line.

Helen placed a hand on his cheek, her thumb brushing an exposed patch of skin.

“You can protect me from the rest of the world, John. But I don’t need you to protect me from you.”

She leaned forward, crossing the distance, and kissed him.

That was enough.

The days of holding back, of ignoring his instincts in favor of conventional reason– which he didn’t understand in the first place– were gone. He had tried to be careful and gentle, knowing what she had been through. He’d tried to become everything that he thought needed.

John had given her every opportunity to turn back.

Now the dam had burst.

His hands, which had been resting on her thighs, shot up until they reached her hips, his long fingers reaching around to dig into her ass. He used the leverage on her to hold her steady as his hips rolled up, grinding against her lap.

Helen moaned into his mouth and he could feel her try to move against him, but his grip was too strong. He would let her move of her own volition soon enough but he needed her to understand first.

She said she didn’t need him to protect her from himself.

He didn’t say it out loud but he taunted her all the same. Prove it.

Because they weren’t going to come back from this. 

He rolled his hips again and Helen responded by deepening the kiss, her tongue brushing against his. He answered in kind, sucking on her tongue. She tasted like the fruity drinks from the club.

He liked it.

Suddenly, John wondered what else he could taste for the first time on her tongue.

He opened his eyes, breaking the kiss and caught sight of her face. Her cheeks were flushed, her features tight with desire.

Again, he grinded up against her and watched her tense further. She inhaled sharply and bit her lip as he continued to hold her in place. Helen reached for him but John did not hesitate, releasing her hip to snatch her wrist and pin it back to the couch.

“Not yet,” he told her.

“John,” she murmured, somewhat breathlessly as her eyes opened.

He didn’t respond. Instead, he squeezed her wrist before his hand migrated back to her hip, and then both hands sank lower, past the hem of her dress. John watched her carefully for any sign of uncertainty.

Show me you can take this. That you want this. That you want me.

Finding none, he continued to push his hands up her thighs. His right hand brushed over the lacy holster, his thumb grazing the weapon there.

He liked its placement.

The idea of reaching under her skirt, finding the hidden gun, and shooting someone from between her thighs was… gratifying.

John pushed past the holster, continuing up until the dress was past her hips.

Keeping one hand locked on her hip, the other trailed across until it slipped beneath her underwear to cup her.

She sighed softly and squirmed against his hand. Her eyes fluttered shut, which would not do.

Fingers digging into her flesh, he ordered, "Look at me."

Helen's eyes dragged open and remained lidded but she complied.

"Good girl," he said softly, rewarding her by rolling his palm. She sucked her lower lip and John watched as her fingers curled into the couch but she remained still as she kept her gaze locked on his.

John ran two fingers along her wet slit before slipping them between her folds. They ghosted her clit, stroking over the sensitive bud gently. Helen tried to push up against him but he was faster, moving just enough out of reach that she couldn’t follow him.

Pouting, she asked, “You gonna keep teasing me?”

John raised a brow, continuing his ministrations with the softest of touches to her clit. He could feel her tensing in anticipation under his hand.  “You wanna talk about teasing?”

Helen shot him a pointed look in response. “It’s not my fault you wanted to take your damn ti–” 

Her words cut off in a gasp as John’s touch became hard.

He smiled to himself as he watched her face tense, lips parting.

John sought her entrance, his palm indirectly continuing to stimulate her clit, as he slipped one finger inside her. She clenched around him and, Jesus, how was she so fucking tight?

As if she could read his mind, Helen confessed, “It’s been a long time.”

She didn’t have to say more. He understood what she wasn’t saying.

M had been watching her for more than a year and in that time, she hadn’t been with anyone. She hadn’t even dated, afraid that anyone in her company would face the consequences from the crazed stalker. 

He wasn’t going to think about that now. More importantly, he wasn’t going to allow the memory of M to taint their time together.

John licked his lips as he stared into her whiskey-colored eyes.

“Then, I’ll have to get you ready, won’t I?”

John wrapped an arm around her waist and spread his hand between her legs, still keeping his finger inside her. Before she could blink, John flipped their positions, moving so quickly she didn’t even realize what he was doing until her back hit the couch. She gasped as she landed and John dropped to the floor, between her legs. They fell open to accommodate him.

He ripped her panties away, and buried his face against her. His tongue found her clit, wasting no time in lavishing her.

“Fuck!” she swore and John could see her throw her head back out of the corner of his eye.

He removed his index finger from inside her and replaced it with his middle finger, allowing it to become equally soaked in her. John removed that one, as well, before taking both fingers and running them in a circle around her entrance. He could feel the flutter of her pussy even from there as his tongue continued to devour her.

Her hand grabbed his hair, holding his head in place as she moved against him, her breath becoming heavy.

He could easily escape. Even without hurting her, John could think of at least six ways to get her to release him. Maybe next time, he would. He could demonstrate just how easily he could overpower her.

John was beginning to think she might like it.

For now, he had more important things to do than prove a point he wasn’t sure he remembered.

He sucked on the bundle of nerves, smiling against her as she moaned, rubbing herself against his face.

She’d told him once that sex could be fun. He was beginning to think she might be right.

Gently, yet without slowing down from the care and attention he was giving her clit, John pressed his fingers back inside her, together.

There was a sharp intake of breath as he began to slide his fingers into her until he’d reached his knuckles.

John looked up at her. Her eyes were closed, her face still tense with growing pleasure. Her updo was down, her hair falling all around her. And with his mouth on her clit and his fingers inside her, she’d never looked so perfect.

He started slowly, eyes locked on her face, as he began to pump his fingers inside of her, curling them towards himself on each pump. Her hips jolted in response and John began to stimulate her clit in time.

A string of swears and nonsensical affirmations began to pour from her lips as John began to speed up each stroke.

This he understood. Far more than emotion and communication and those little important lessons that had been missed in his youth.

Physicality made sense.

For the most part, bodies worked the same. Areas that were vulnerable or sensitive to pain were also sensitive to pleasure. 

You could not be an expert in one without having some understanding of the other.

John could barely form a sentence about what he felt for Helen but he could manipulate her body until she was writhing beneath his tongue and crying out his name. He felt her clench around his fingers, her muscles spasming as he continued to lick his way through her orgasm. He didn’t stop until her body went slack.

He looked up from between her legs. Her chest was rising and falling rapidly, her lips parted as she breathed. Her eyes, which had fluttered shut, opened again as she looked back down at him.

Her hand was still wrapped around his head, tangled in his hair. Helen guided him up until he was draped over her, and kissed him gently.

He wondered if she could taste herself on his lips– a thought which made him infinitely and impossibly harder.

“Not that that wasn’t wonderful,” she said between kisses, reminding him: “But we have our choice of available beds.”

And if that wasn’t the smartest thing he’d ever heard…

John kissed her once more before taking a hold of her thighs and guiding her legs to wrap around him. 

He wasn’t as young as he used to be and was slightly at odds with the fact that most of his skill came from hand-to-hand, but he was still very capable. With a practiced ease, he rolled off the couch, planting his feet beneath him as he pulled Helen up with him. 

Her arms wrapped around his shoulders as she kissed him again. Thank fuck he was a multitasker.

He felt her moving against him before hearing the sounds of her shoes falling off one by one.

John followed suit, kicking off his shoes and toeing off his socks as they hobbled towards the bedroom.

Setting her on her feet as they reached the bed, John's gaze raked over her. Past her flushed face and swollen lips and over her mussed dress.

"Turn around," he told her.

Her teeth grazed her lip as she turned, like she knew what was coming.

He pressed a kiss to her back, between the base of her neck and the top of her dress. He pinched the zipper between his fingers and began slowly dragging it downward, continuing to place kisses down her back until he could no longer reach without kneeling. Then he rose, his tongue trailing the path that his lips had just taken.

Helen shivered in his arms as he reached his full height.

His hands reached the straps of the asymmetrical neckline. He spread it open and over her shoulders before letting it fall down her curves.

John’s mouth watered as he soaked in the sight of her.

He’d been right about the tattoo on her hip. The floral vines stretched upward over her waist on one side while another elaborate bouquet rested on her opposite ribs, just below her arm.

He touched the bouquet, hand running along the top of the tattoo before arching around and cupping her breast. His other hand lazily traced around her stomach and he pulled her back against him while his thumb played with her nipple and her head fell back against his shoulder.

Helen began to move, her ass rolling back against his cock through his pants.

John placed a kiss on her shoulder as his hand moved to massage her other breast. He pinched her nipple as his teeth nipped at her throat. He paid careful attention to every sound and jump that accompanied his actions. Cataloging them in his head with every intention to come back to it later.

Her voice was heavy as she told him, "If you keep making me wait, I'm going to hurt you."

"Promises, promises," he replied, mocking what she had said to him in the gallery earlier that night. 

She turned in his arms, going straight for his belt. Her hands made quick work of the buckle before she tugged it loose, along with the button of his pants.

Well, if that was how she wanted it…

John pushed her backward towards the bed as he quickly discarded his pants and boxers. Helen bounced on the bed, completely naked, save for the holster at her thigh. His gun was strapped to her. His mark was left on her, keeping her safe. 

He pressed a kiss just above it before taking out the gun and unsnapping the holster. He brushed his thumb over it, checking without looking that the safety was off before he placed it on the nightstand.

He climbed back over her, wrapping an arm around her waist before he pulled them both farther up the bed. Her hair had completely fallen out of the earlier bun and fanned out around her.

Helen reached for him immediately, pulling him down to press her lips to his. Her other hand slipped between their bodies as she’d reached his aching cock. Her fingers wrapped around him, running along his length.

He bucked against her hand.

He’d been half-erect for the better part of the week but he’d been hard as steel since the moment she’d climbed onto his lap.

 There was still so much he wanted to do. He’d barely had the chance to explore her body. He’d yet to trace her tattoos with his tongue and he’d barely touched her breasts. But he wouldn’t last long if Helen continued to stroke him the way she was.

He caught her by the wrist again and forced her hand up and over her head before he could embarrass himself in her hand. 

Helen shot him a glare before reaching with her other hand, which he quickly caught, as well.

Later, he thought to himself. She could do whatever she wanted to him later. But right now…

“You’re mine,” he told her.

Helen made a passive show of resistance, fighting against his grip in an attempt to reach him again, but they both knew it was futile. 

She licked her lips and swallowed. “Then, prove it.”

He intended to.

He released her hands, one arm moving to her side to prop himself above her as the other reached for his cock.

Her hips jerked in anticipation as John rubbed the head against her soaking folds before setting himself against her entrance. In a rare display of gentleness, John pushed slowly inside her. Her breath hitched while he buried himself completely, forcing himself to give her time to adjust.

She felt heavenly. There was nothing on Earth that could possibly compare to the way her body felt beneath him, around him. Her arms encircled him and she curled her head into the crook of his neck, giving an experimental roll of her hips.

The small thread of control snapped.

John drew back and thrust inside her, reveling in the sharp moan that accompanied his actions. He did so again, watching her face contort in harsh pleasure.

“Fuck, John,” she moaned as he hoisted her leg up and around his waist, pulling her closer to him while he grinded down against her.

It was everything he’d wanted, everything he’d hoped for. Except, “Jardani,” he corrected, suddenly desperate to hear his true name on her lips again.

Her eyes flashed in recognition, a tender expression blending with desperation.

“Say it,” John demanded, thrusting deep within her.

“Jardani,” she half-said, half-whimpered as his onslaught continued. Her heel dug into his back as Helen met him stroke for stroke. “Jardani."

That was nearly enough to make him come. He was so fucking close. Each time their hips met, John had to stop himself from losing it and letting it be over. 

Already, he could feel himself teetering on the edge, growing closer with every gasp and moaned Jardani.

A wealth of new, unnamable emotions began to swell within him. He couldn't distinguish one from the next but he thought he might die if he lost this, if he lost her.

Beneath him, he could feel Helen’s body stiffening. Her grip around him tightened. Her nails dug into his back.

He reached between them to find her clit and push her over the edge again. He could feel the moment she fell over it, her core spasming around him as she cried out his name. She fell beneath him, hips still moving against him absently while she panted.

With that, he gave himself to focus on his own rising need for release. He pumped in and out of her limp body, listening to the soft words that fell from her lips until he, too, reached his precipice. He spilled inside her with a string of broken Russian before collapsing onto her body.

John breathed her in as he came down from his own high.

Helen’s arms tightened around him as she placed a kiss on his neck. The possession he felt was overwhelming. The thought of anyone even coveting what he had made him nearly murderous, and he couldn’t quite narrow down why.

As Helen’s kisses reached his mouth, he forgot about the question and soon lost himself to her again. And again.

It was hours later, after Helen had fallen asleep that the question came back to him and he realized the obvious answer.

For the first time, John Wick had something to lose.

#overheard at the continental #john wick fanfic #john wick fanfiction #john x helen wick #helen x john wick

[alicepooryorick]

One thing I love about Batman comics are the average character designs.

Comics are pretty infamous for sexualizing women right? Then Batman comics are there, and like... Let's set the men as the bar, ok? Here's Nightwing:

That suit is skin tight. You can see EVERY muscle, and his famous huge ass is RIGHT THERE.

Now let's look at some women, and believe me: I didn't just take the first official image I found. I scrolled a few seconds to find something:

That's not even skin tight. It's mostly armour, her pants are baggy even. Hell, it's a realistic uni-boob.

Ok ok. That's Cass. What about Stephenie?

She's a bit worse. (again, I'm scrolling through google images a few seconds to find the most "sexual" (objective... I know) outfits. This one IS tighter fitting than Cassandra's, the unrealistic boobs are present here. But compared to Dick, this is at worst on par with how he looks.

Now, Barbara I was expecting to be really bad. I had looked at her google results before but... By the time I filled out all the fan content (really good quality stuff artistically speaking, I have to say) I was left with this:

Which yes: this is the closest to our baseline set by Dick Grayson above. It's skin tight, it shows every ripple of her body... Much the same as Dick's suit here.

Now, admittedly: the Villains look like this:

Which is a valid critique of the point I'm trying to make. But over all, for comics, the Batgirls are fairly unsexualized compared to their male counterparts. The amount of images of Cassandra and Stephanie basically being black or purple blobs, or Barbara in her Batgirl of Burnside tracksuit suit was honestly impressive. Considering this is Supergirl:

And this is stargirl's costume:

I think I really like how all the bats are just kinda... Blobs. Or ninjas. And those are the two possible costumes.

#wow this is cringe #abd wrong #niw to post it! #dc #batman #comics #batgirl #batgirls

[theanimeview]

[Commentary] Revisiting Problematic: Jobless Reincarnation Vs. The Death Mage

Source: https://www.ebay.com/itm/184348670012

DISCLAIMER: This post contains content that we at The Anime View do not think is suitable for everyone. The genre of the work being reviewed is ecchi. Possible triggers or subjects could include sexual assault and pedophilia. There are no images of such, but these topics are discussed. By clicking “Keep Reading,” you understand that you may encounter such content. Viewer/reader discretion is advised.

By: Peggy Sue Wood | @pswediting

If you know me, you know that I hate Mushoku Tensei: Jobless Reincarnation. In a previous post, I claimed that it was a hentai series that bordered on pedophilia and labeled my distaste for conversations that try to defend the work for its art and storytelling while ignoring how that art and storytelling create the problematic features I just described. In response, some argued that the series was merely ecchi and insisted again on its great storytelling. I must admit that I was wrong about the classification. It is not officially considered a hentai but an ecchi. However, that is not much better as it still sexualizes young, underdeveloped children. #gross

I stand by my belief that the story of Jobless Reincarnation is not so great as to overlook the parts that sexualize children. The art also emphasizes this focus, and it is not just fan service. I am alarmed that some members of the community confuse the two.

I have tried to find a comparable title that I think does a better job of being overt yet suggestive, and I think I have with The Death Mage Who Doesn’t Want a Fourth Time. (Let me give a quick thank you to one of my friend’s who recommended The Death Mage, which I think fits well into this discussion–I know you don’t want to be named/tagged, but I do appreciate you reading the different titles and providing a reasonable selection for my more conservative sensibilities. 🙇🏻‍♀️)

The Death Mage follows the journey of Vandalieu, a half-vampire and half-dark elf being with a unique skill of death magic. Essentailly, he’s a necromancer and a very powerful one at that. He’s already been killed for it before, and in his newest life he’s found more suffering as a result of the skill and his own bloodline. Compared to Rudeus from Jobless Reincarnation, Vandalieu is more mature and has a clear sense of purpose and a series of specific challenges that stem an external source. The story deals with themes such as finding your place, death, loneliness, and betrayal, with more serious and darker approach than Jobless Reincarnation‘s exploration of similar ideas. There are many obstacles to Vandalieu’s path, including his former classmates that have also reincarnated with him in these new worlds, and the god of this story, who is managing these cycles seems intent on Vandalieu’s suffering.

Image-wise, The Death Mage certainly depicts more risky costuming. Most of the adult women having a large chest and revealing clothes, even nudity at times, but the coverage is enough to meet today’s standards of a bathing suit or lingerie. Even moments of nudity are covered by speech bubbles/text or are made unsexualized by the context. For example, breastfeeding is depicted in both works, but where Rudeus makes a show of sexualizing his mother in this moment and continuing to do so as the story progresses, Vandalieu sees it as an embarrassing and strange experience.

I think that is what really sets the two apart. In The Death Mage, scenes are suggestive, but the tone makes clear distinctions about when the suggestiveness of the attire for characters is the focus and when readers should be paying attention to the story. Compared to Jobless Reincarnation, the overt sexualizing is relatively mild and infrequent and on adult character. I have seen some readers claim it to be a series alright for mature, general audiences while not being appropriate for younger readers or those who are sensitive to violence and mature themes and I can see their argument (I disagree, but I see it). Of course, I have seen the same argument for Jobless Reincarnation, but I strongly disagree on that front and do not understand it still. To be clear, both series hold strongly suggestive materials, stong enough to border on pornographic–but one chooses adults as a focus, and another chooses a mix of children and adults. I don’t think I have to explain further why that is a noticeable and important difference.

There are other notable differences too, but also similarities, as I’ve mentioned above. Both series depict a deep and intricate magic system, which plays an important role in the story’s world-building, and both are in the ecchi genre. They are clearly, different stories with different leads, but have similar themes. It is these elements that I think makes them comparable, in addition to how they frame the sexualization of female characters. One series more acceptable than the other because the content draws a line on what is okay and what isn’t, and I think that the larger fan community would do well to recognize the differences and how some perpetrate the “merits” of these stories while ignore negative elements.

On a final note: Would I recommend either of these works? Absolutely not. I don’t like the genre or their individual stories enough to promote them as recommended reads. There are better reads/watches out there. I decided upon making this post because Jobless Reincarnation got another adaptation this past July that is going on right now and I see way too many people continuing to ignore its problematic traits in praising its “story” when there are better works out there. I believe, as I have before, that it one of the worst of the worst series to gain the kind of general following that it has and that it highlights a dark undertone to the anime fandom community. With that, I will now excuse myself to try to find a new way to forget this series entirely and clean myself from the gross feeling I got reviewing this for the post. 🖐️🎤 &✌️ 📤

#anaylsis #commentary #death attribute magician #isekai ittara honki dasu #jobless reincarnation #mushoku tensei #mushoku tensei: isekai ittara honki dasu #mushoku tensei: jobless reincarnation #the death mage #the death mage who doesn't want a fourth time #yondome wa iyana shi zokusei majutsushi

[carmenxjulia]

Showrunner Duane Capizzi did an informal Q&A session with some fans in a CS chatroom. There are several question askers, all marked by name. Get some insider knowledge on the show, after the break!

Duane Capizzi:

Just checking things out! Feel like I'm poking my head through a door at a party I'm crashing haha.

Fun to see everyone hanging out and talking all good things Carmen

Can't stay long - I should have taken the code name "Crimson Phantom"

Crimson Phantom - I like the sound of that (if it's not already taken haha)

Carmen:

It's an awesome nickname! Personally I'm more of a Scarlet Santa Rosa person myself- I love that little interaction with Jules and Carmen in the special

Duane Capizzi:

Scarlet Santa Rosa! Yes, that was really cute between them. Too cute in fact.

Coach Brunt had some names for her too if i recollect

Arden:

Lambkins

Wren:

Didn't Brunt also call her Monica Santa Monica once?

Mage:

Yeah in the Boston episode

Also Josie San Jose

Arden:

I personally prefer Fedora the Explora

Duane Capizzi:

Josie yes hahaha

I can't believe we got away with Fedora the Explorer! I thought that would be noted but I'm glad we did. So funny!

Carmen is amazing! She "owns" whatever she wears, doesn't she?

Carmen:

She definitely owns Carmen Brand Outerwear

Duane Capizzi:

I'll share another tidbit though (along the lines of Carmen being a love story where everyone is in love with Carmen).

It was important for obvious reasons that the show be (among other things) about female empowerment. And we wanted to celebrate fashion of course. But it was super important to me to not fall into the "male gaze" trap. That was something I imparted to the storyboard crew and directors. It's a fine line, I know, but I think we succeeded.

Arden:

You sure did. What I adore about Carmen Sandiego is how unsexualized all the characters were while still being inclusive to different body types and races

Duane Capizzi:

Well artists love to sneak things in! So it was a little rule I had

They were mostly great about it - in all the 32 episodes, I think I asked to change only two shots for that reason. Where I had to go "ahem"

"Outerwear" sounds so peculiar but I think that's what made it work. I kept changing it back and forth and sometimes I'm surprised to see/hear it in the show. For the longest time it was "Carmen Clothiers." Did I make the right decision? Sometimes you can rework things too much and lose sight - it happens!

The one shot that leaps to mind was Shadowsan carrying her fireman style at top of 202, as they were escaping through the tunnels. Her, um, fundamentals were just a little too front and center to not fall into the "male gaze" trap. Nothing awful! It was borderline. We just adjusted the angle a bit

Julia:

My favorite most definitely has to be her formal wear from the "need for speed caper"

Duane Capizzi:

I'd have to think about my favorite outfit or top five. All her evening gowns of course!

Maybe "witch." We couldn't make it red because it would not have been a very good disguise (plus, you know: "Scarlet Witch" haha).

But let's not underestimate her signature hat/coat - I continue to be enamored with how we updated her look from the old trench coat thing.

Arden:

Not me suddenly motivated to draw Carmen in a scarlet witch outfit

Duane Capizzi:

Then you have to draw Zack as Pietro!

(or Player? Only his fingers are speedy)

Arden:

Idea: what if player (or Shadowsan) was Pietro

Duane Capizzi:

Shadowsan IS Pietro. He's so quick you never see him move.

Wren:

Shadowsan's fight with Brunt where it went slowmo and he moved fast was so cool!

Duane Capizzi:

Hey, Shadowsan is quite the fashion plate too - am I right?

I love the outfits on the show. So good! So perfect! But, I'm not being very modest am I

I really love SS in the dark trench coat. So. Bad. Ass.

Carmen:

Any thoughts on the Fashionista memory thing?

Duane Capizzi:

Fashionista, sure! What do you want to know?

Carmen:

Give me a second-

Duane Capizzi:

Thank you for noting the aesthetics on the show! Much effort, passion and vision from all involved - Chromosphere, our directors, animators, composers, sound mixers - everyone gave it all they had, it was so inspiring for all involved.

Carmen:

Was there any significance to that specific memory- Carmen defending Julia in the Fashionista Caper- being chosen as the first memory she remembered when she went outside? Like, why that scene specifically over any others for example?

(referring to the finale)

Duane Capizzi:

Oh, that! To be honest, not from me: we were just trying to do the "swirl of confused memories" like we did with Gray earlier in the season. We wanted to show that the ACME device had jostled some old memories loose and that "the girl agent with glasses" was now taking root in Carmen's rush of memories/emotions

But that specific memory, not necessarily from my POV - it could have been any number of Julia moments, like their first meeting on the train (for instance)

The director Jos Humphrey must have picked it. It worked for me!

Carmen:

We all loved that it was that specific memory that was chosen out of all Julia and Carmen moments, the fact that she remembered defending her was an added emotional experience to the already emotional finale

Duane Capizzi:

Well let's talk about the original scene in 204! On the surface just a light fun episode, but so many things came together there: Shadowsan connecting with Player; SS getting his new clothes; but the key thing was switching Julia back from doing Chief's bidding back to Carmen's side. The episode was built around the moment that Carmen pulls Julia on stage with her (I'm not kidding). That was THE moment

Carmen:

We have MANY questions... we should probably set a limit

Duane Capizzi:

Ask away - I don't mind. Honestly, Carmen is my favorite topic! I've been living, breathing, dreaming Carmen for the last 5 years! I don't think there's much to say, I think it's all there on screen. But happy to talk about it because I love to

Cam:

I have a question, what about the color theory in Carmen Sandiego? What do you think certain colors mean as in, blue, yellow, green, and red.

we have our own ideas about the colors but it would be interesting to hear from your perspective

Duane Capizzi:

Color theory! Well chromosphere color scripts every episode (!). If those haven't been shared publicly yet remind me, maybe I can get permission to do so or have them do it. They are lovely to behold.

But basically Carmen = red (duh); Vile = green; Acme = blue. That's the simple version. We started talking about that early on.

color scripts = they do thumbnail art of key scenes to share mood/emotion

we tried to NOT use red for non-Carmen scenes; and scenes where she was significant the color red would be dominant or sometimes symbolically precede her (for instance).

If you google color scripts I'm sure you will see some come up. Try Pixar color scripts for instance. There's a great Art of Pixar book with their color scripts.

Arden:

Do you think Julia is blue or purple?

Duane Capizzi:

Haha, Jules definitely purple! Cute.

Mage:

You've just confirmed the whole color theory these guys have been working on for a while.

Duane Capizzi:

I was actually being funny - is she actually color scripted purple in the series? Wow, my mind might be blown

Garfield:

Now I have a question!

Julia has great admiration and respect for Carmen. Do you think Carmen has as much respect and admiration for Julia as Julia does for her?

Duane Capizzi:

I think Julia might just be a little infatuated with Carmen (even if she hasn't fully articulated how to herself - remember, the show may be sophisticated but it's still a kids show). But mostly Julia just knows/intuits/deduces Carmen's a good guy, pretty much from the beginning. I think the two have a connection that defies space and time in some ways - look at how much they work in tandem without being in the same scenes together much of the time. I love that!

As for Carmen, of course she respects Julia: she knows Julia "gets" her, and respects Julia's smarts and mutual love of history/respect for cultures.

I love how Chase is the ultimate buzzkill for whatever might be stirring in Julia as she's watching Carmen fly away in the Pilot. She's like, "whooaa ..." Then Chase falls onto the windshield. Hilarious!

Nina:

I was actually wondering if Carmen and Julia were meant to have opposing color schemes? With Julia's original outfit I mean

Duane Capizzi:

Oh, good question about Julia's original outfit: I'd have to think about that or ask Jos or Chromosphere. J's colors ARE sort of a drabber distant cousin to Carmen's, aren't they? I think mostly we just wanted "drab workaday" colors for Interpol, knowing that both of them would eventually be slicked up as ACME Agents.

Nova:

Devineaux is immune to injuries it is the only reason why he has lasted so long in ACME and Interpol

Duane Capizzi:

Devineaux, one of my favorite lines: "I did not know you two kept in touch."

Am I right?

SelinIndigo:

I have one question:

Will we ever know Carmen's given name? Also, if you don't mind when is her birthday in this reboot?

Duane Capizzi:

Carmen's given name: never say never! But for where our series ended, I thought it would just interfere. That's not how I wanted you to remember her. It would have just been a label and spoiled her mystique IMO

Player, however: we totally messed with you! "Mr. Bouchard."

Carmen's birthday?

Hmmm.

Maybe month and day but not year: would hate to date the show

I also don't like naming ages in shows because it just gets weird with timelines and such. Or can be.

Carmen:

I made a post about this a while back— how did Carmen end up getting Julia's apartment address? did she just text her for it or straight up ask? did she find out on her own in the least stalker-y way possible? I just have so many theories- do you have any thoughts on it?

Duane Capizzi:

The apartment in the IA special? Oh that whole story was like one big dream sequence ;)

Arden:

What does the wink mean? Does Julia even live in an apartment?

Nina:

Does that mean Carmen dreamt she gave Julia roses or-

Duane Capizzi:

We played things faster and looser for fun there

Okay, I just saw what time it is. Yikes! Time flies when you're having fun. Well THANK YOU EVERYONE (for loving the show, for building this site, for being you.

#Carmen Sandiego #Duane Capizzi #CS Crew #Interview #Transcript

[shelsgovroomvroom]

Oh! Hi! I just wanted to pop on in and ramble about some of my sub Malcolm HC’s (that boy is a sub and you should say it) but anyway! He’s got such a massive praise kink. You’ll be having sex and you’ll just say good boy or something nice and this boy keens! And I don’t know what Imm saying but just Malcolm with a praise kink

MALCOLM HAS THE BIGGEST PRAISE KINK THANK YOU FOR REQUESTING THIS (also I just wanna say my favorite requests are when you guys just rant away about what you want me to write about! So don’t be afraid of that! Go nuts! Write me three asks of you just rambling if about how much you love something! It’s my favorite thing ever don’t be shy!)

You discover Malcolm’s praise kink in an entirely unsexual way. Simply because you told him you loved the outfit he was wearing. Your comment caused his cheeks to redden and he kinda ducked his head down and there was this cute little smile on his face that he was trying his best to hide.

Malcolm lived for praise. Any form of it. Especially, you discovered, from you. He loved you. He loved you more than he thought possible. So when you praised him, it meant the world.

Praising him for every day tasks or fashion choices is one thing. But praising him when he’s on his knees is entirely different thing.

He practically keens when you call him pretty. He once whimpered when you told him he was beautiful.

But it’s not just praise on his appearance. His favorite is when you tell him he’s doing a good job. Telling him that he’s such a perfect sub, that he’s doing so well and you love him so much.

Malcolm likes things rough. He loves when you absolutely wreck him but at the same time are praising him. You pull his hair back and leave bite marks on his chest but in between all of that you’re telling him how much you love him and how wonderful he is.

He nearly dies the first time he eats you out and you moan how good he is. He literally nearly falls over because damn that’s the best thing that’s ever happened to him.

Malcolm loves to please you. He loves to know that he’s helping you and that you love him.

The biggest praise you can give him, is to call him yours. He needs that. The ownership is something that makes him feel safe and whole.

He’s not just a sub. He’s your sub.

#sub!malcolm #malcolm bright imagines #malcolm bright imagine #malcolm bright x reader #prodigal son #imagine #imagines #x reader

[sewingandsnacking]

I wanna reblog an ostensibly sex meme and try to make it as unsexual as possible

but I do not have the brain juice for it

[tellywoodtrash]

sanjivani 16.10.19 lb

OH SHIT SID HAS A BROKEN SHAADI IN HIS PAST!!?!?!!!! WHUTTTTTTT?!?!??! COZ OF HIS NAAJAAYAZ-NESS??? WHO WAS THE GIRL??? DID HE REALLY LOVE HER???? OMG YEH KYA BOMB PHENKA HUMARE UPARRRRRR?!?!

oh sis, this lipstick is not working for you in this light. it makes you look like a corpse.

asldkjldkjsaldjlaskdjla i am sorry but this is fucking hilarious man hahahahaha, what an idiottttttttt this girl is. 

sid is a much better human being than i am, coz he got concerned and moved to help her, instead of instantly bursting into laughter.

forceful face hardening. jab dil abhi bhi bada hi softtttttttt hai.

haaye, woh bhi kya din tha. aur yeh ek aaj ka din hai. sigh.

"yeh kaanch ki deewar hamesha rahegi humare beech. hamesha."

"yeh kaanch ki deewar, isse main humare beech patthar nahi banne doongi. main jaankar rahoongi ki aapko hua kya hai, dr. sid."

lord. y'all not even a couple yet and you already need hardcore couple's therapy.

"i'm sorry ishani, meri badkismati ke saaye se mujhe tumhe door rakhna hoga."

OH SIDDHU. YOU SILLY BEAN, THERE'S NO BADKISMATI KA "SAAYA" AROUND YOU. YOU ARE THE SUNNNNNNNN, BABY. *hugs him tightest, clinging to him like a baby koala bear on the back of its mom*

but just in case there is, mais suggests you contact the female lead of yehh jadu hai jinn ka coz she seems to have some kinda saaya repelling expertise.

do pal ruka khwabon ka kaaaaaaarwaaaaan, aur phirrrrrrr chal diye, tum kahaan hum kahaaaaaaan.....

it's kinda endearing how jiggy's adopted ishani as bff. honestly, there is no one purer than jignesh in this whole damn show. protecc him 4ever.

oh god, i can't watch this. i can't. it's too gross. and anyway i already saw the scene sayantani put up on insta.

I AM ACTUALLY ANGRY???????????? ANJALI IS SO HOT AND ACCOMPLISHED AND DESERVES BETTER THAN THIS THUMB LOOKING FUCKER, WHO IS ALSO SOME KINDA ACCESSORY TO MURDER (AMONG OTHER UNSAVOURY SHIT.)

also the abrupt cuts between very close moments and the bits where she's pushing him away making snarky smile are confusing me. are the close bits his imagination? ok either way, gross, fwding.

from one gross relationship to another icky one. ouff, give me a break showwwwwwwww. i want to see my baby doctors (any of them, at this poiint; not just sid/ishani.)

"wife ne kyun choda aapko?" lmao, direct to the point.

"kya faraq padta hai? meri beti mere paas hai aur woh mujhse bohut pyaar karti hai."

oh ho. there's that bit of backstory solved.

anjali sympathising with vardhan's daughter.

lmao she's like a dog with a bone.

ofc, work pressure nahi samjh paayi waala excuse. couldn’t possibly be coz you’re clearly a POS insaan huh????

HEY MAN COULD YOU STOP FEELING HER UP LIKE THIS DURING A CONVO???? THAT TOO ABOUT YOUR DIVORCE?!

"har aadmi mere paas bas ek hi cheez ke liye aata hai." anjali isn't here for your bs, vardhan.

and no it's not sex. it's access to her dad. this poor girl has sooooooooo many different facets of daddy issues, it's not even funny anymore.

he needs to stop jerking her around. it's not as romantic as he thinks it is.

also lmao he’s like idk about others, but i don’t want that from you. i don’t even like your dad.

oh anjali, no. don't make this face for thisssssss dude.

I HATE YOU. DIE.

bechaara rahil is stuck between ensuring mamu is dropped home safely and figuring out what the fuck is wrong with sid suddenly.

alllll those extra shaadi waali lightein you ppl plugged in overloaded the circuits. IN A DAMN HOSPITAL. let’s hope there’s no one on life support today.

oh god ab inka "romance" dekhna padega. yaaaaaarrrrrrr. I WANTED HOT ANDHERE MEIN ROMANCE FOR SID ISHANI. NOT THESE TWO!

man you ppl keep framing this relationship as rooted in "izzat" but like........ it doesn't feel very respectful.

oufffff spit it out shashank. do you want to bone her or not????? that's all we need to know here rn. i don't care about the izzat and dosti and falaana dimkaana. IS THIS ROMANTIC LOVE, OR FUCKING NOT? jesusssssssss.

"haan juhi, main tumse pyaar karta hoon."

OK I STILL DON'T UNDERSTAND THO. COZ YOU FRAMED IT AS SOME KINDA PURE UNSEXUAL ROMANTIC LOVE AND.... I'M JUST CONFUSED. I MEAN I GET THE CONCEPT OF NON-SEXUAL ROMANTIC LOVE, I'M JUST CONFUSED AT THE WAY THIS SHOW IS CHOOSING TO FRAME IT HERE, IN THE CONTEXT OF THIS PARTICULAR RELATIONSHIP. IS SHASHANK DECLARING HIMSELF TO BE ASEXUAL? (UNLIKELY, CONSIDERING HOW MANY BACHCHE HE HAS RUNNING AROUND THE PLACE AT ANY GIVEN TIME IN THE MANY ITERATIONS OF THIS SHOW, MOST OF WHICH WEREN’T PLANNED.) BUT THAT'S THE ONLY WAY THIS DYNAMIC WORKS. MAKE A DECISION, SHOW. WHAT IS THIS FUCKING RELATIONSHIP????????

and what are we to make of juhi who was all smiley at the dosti and izzat part  of the convo, and keeps getting upset and cagey when he says "pyaar"??!?!?

ohohohohoh how the turntables. time for him to hound her for an answer.

lmao well. there’s your answer.

ok???????? why this random shot of anjali's shadow?

lmao was it really necessary for all the attendees to change outfits too? literally only the bride and groom and their fam needed to.

shashank bana siddhu. while siddhu is off bemoaning his phooti kismat somewhere. iss sab ke liye mujhe wait karwaaya itna iss episode ke liye????? ugh.

THE ONLY TWO I REALLY CARE AND STAN FOR IN THIS SHOW FILLED WITH CONFUSING IDIOTS. PURE, FLAWLESS, SASS BOIS.

lmao rishabhhhhhhhhhh man, where's your mumbai ka best pandit?????/ YOU'RE mumbai's best pandit??????

asha still upset about ishani's breakdown i guess.

awwww, sid's walking jessie down the aisle!

oh shit, while having bad shaadi flashbacks. hang in there baby, hangggg in there.

SHE CALLED HIM HER BROTHERRRRRRRRRRRRRRRR!!!!! ACTUAL TEARS YOU GUYS!!!!!!!!!!!!

lmao @ rishabh getting huffy at that. i can't tell if i love or hate this petty asshole.

"main marrrr rahi hoon!!!!!"

"arre main apne dulhe ko dekhne ke liye marr rahi hoon yaaar."

this is exactly the kinda gallows humour i would keep doing in a sitch like this and i fucking love jessi for being a Dramatic Bitch like me.

here comes the groom. with his bestieeeeeeee.

the rejection phobia is mega real with this one. never thought we'd see anyone more fucked up by it than sonakshi rastogi, but here we are.

but also sid, how do you look at a girl like THIS and then act surprised when ppl tell you that you’re in love with her?????

yeah try to avert your eyes all you want bro, you gonna wife her eventually.

rahil and asha are every sidisha shipper rn; dying on the inside from the.......

OMG THEY'RE THE ACTUAL CUTEST. CAN THE SHOW JUST BE ABOUT THEM????? COZ LIKE.... THAT'S A SHOW I WANNA WATCH RN. PURE SUPPORTIVE MADLY IN LOVE BABIES GETTING THROUGH LIFE, CANCER BE DAMNED.

LOLOLOLOLOL SO WE'RE REALLY GETTING ZERO EXPLANATION TO ME WHY RISHABH'S THE PANDIT THO????????

oh babeeee.

vardhan is me. KISKA ROMANCE DEKHNE KO SHURU KIYA MAINE SHOW, AUR KISKA NAIN-MATAKKA DEKHNA PADH RAHA HAI. BHAKKKKKKKK!!!!!!

sid. hon. stay strong.

ah shit. maybe melt a little. see how she's crying cozza you! come on, man! 

why repeating the “badkismati ka saaya” dialogue from before???? ouff what a hodgepodge fuckingggggg mess this ep was.

———————————————————————

blah blah two of them and their opposing zidds, we all know ishani gonna eventually win anyway.

#sanjivani #sj lbs #episode liveblogs

[cammi-writes]

Imagine being stuck on a strange planet with Loki;

part: part 1 | part 2 |

a/n; this is my first time writing for Loki so please beware. I don’t want to say this is in an au but it is definitely not 100% the same. Basically Thanos hasn’t won yet and Loki isn’t dead

fandom; Marvel

pairing; Loki x Reader

warnings; “sexual” situations, unsexual unwanted touching

tags; please message me if you would like to be tagged

——

How you had ended up on this planet, you did not know. How you ended up on this planet with Loki, god of mischief and pain in your ass? Again the answer evades you.

The last thing you remember was Thanos pointing his gauntlet on you and Loki shielding you with his own body.

That may be surprising to most. Loki, a villain, saving you, a hero but it wasn’t much of a suprise to you. You and Loki had grown fairly “close” throughout his time on earth. Though he could still be an ass when he wanted to be. And he always wanted to be.

Despite your so-called friendship, you wouldn’t believe Loki would put his own life at risk for you, so you assumed he somehow knew Thanos wasn’t planning on ending your life. Why? Who knows?

But now you found yourself under the God. Quite literally as you were lying on your back with him on top of you. The planets you could see in the sky was your first inkling that this wasn’t Earth. The second was the very colorful creatures that seemed to be coming towards the commotion.

“Loki where are we?” You panicked. You were a superhero but still human. And this place was obviously not made for someone like you.

“I’m not sure” Loki’s surveyed his surroundings, taking note of the groups of creatures coming towards you. His movements made you very aware of the predicament you were in.

You could feel Loki’s armor pressed against you firmly. The cool feeling of the metals made you shiver, or maybe that was Loki’s body temperature. His slender form was heavy on your petite one. Suddenly you noticed you were only wearing a singed white button-up blouse and very tight high-waisted black jeans. Hardly mission attire but Thanos’ attack gave you no time to change. Your powers didn’t rely on any sort of machine or suit anyway.

But since you were not wearing your suit, your body was very aware of every movement Loki made. This made you blush.

Like he read your mind, Loki stood up, pulling you up with him. You noted his firm grip on your arm and the way he made himself stand taller.

To strike fear in any potential threats, you thought.

You stood close enough to feel Loki stiffen as the crowd of colorful creatures, people, parted for a man, creature. The only difference between him and a mere human was his lavender skin tone. His black hair was done into a pony-tail that lyed on his shoulder. It was embellished with golden trinkets. His attire was a simple white skirt, barely covering his... lower regions along with a golden mantle that seemed to have two very naked creatures of the female anatomy carrying it behind him.

Loki’s eyes flickered to the planets in the sky and his eyes darkened.

“What’s wrong?” You whispered.

“The name of this cluster of planets escapes me but I do recognize it” Loki muttered. “They’re very... barbaric in their practices and they don’t often have visitors that are not native”

“Not often?” You questioned.

“Only when they get new shipments in”

“Shipments of what?” You questioned.

“Slaves”

You barely had any time to register what Loki had said before the man had reached you.

“I am Khelerath. King of Dicarro” The alien man announced and you could feel the power radiating off of him. It even frightened you a bit. “Who are you and why have you come here?”

Your mouth opened and closed like a fish out of water before Loki raised a hand to stop you.

“I am Loki. Prince of Asgard. I have been mistakenly transported to Dicarro while in battle” Loki explained, his voice radiating just as much power as Khelerath. Maybe even more and it surprised you as you had never felt that before. Not from Loki. And it frightened you a little less than Khelerath’s power.

“And who is this?” Khelerath’s lips twisted into a lude smile in your direction.

“She is my pet. Names are not important” Loki’s words made your eyes bulge from their sockets.

Pet?!?!

Loki’s eyes flashed to yours, almost ordering you to stay quiet and play along. You debated your options. On one hand you could fight him on it and possibly die on this strange planet or play along with the only man you knew on this planet who knew how this intergalactic crap worked. Yeah, the second option sounded better.

“You are not on Asgard, my dear Loki. You are trespassers on Dicarro, my homeworld. I decide what is important and what is not” Khelerath spoke calmly but you were still fearful.

Loki’s eyes flashed towards you and his lips stayed in a frown.

“Y/n. Her name is Y/n” Loki finally spoke.

Khelerath’s eyes sparked with interest as they met yours again. This time he passed Loki and made his way directly in front of you.

“Y/n” He grinned a devilish smile that made your stomach turn. His hand cupped your face roughly, squeezing your cheeks together. Not enough to hurt but enough to make your heart swell in fear. “Delicious”

Your eyes found Loki’s but he merely shook his head to say that he wasn’t worried about Khelerath hurting you at that moment. Despite that, you whimpered as Khelerath’s eyes racked over you.

Terrifying thoughts racked through your brain. As far as you could tell you were the only human here and what if they are humans and that’s why there were so many “alien abduction” stories on earth.

“She’s afraid” Loki’s voice radiating the same power as before and Khelerath’s hand had immediately retracted as if he had been burned.

You immediately scurried back to Loki. Like a child hiding behind their mothers legs after being scolded. In all honesty you would have never felt this comfortable being this close to Loki but at the moment he was the only thing that seemed to be trying to protect from the possible human-eating man.

“Do not be mistaken, you hold no power here Asgardian” Khelerath turned towards Loki. “I simply respect the rules of Dicarro and I apologize for laying my hands upon what is yours”

Loki simply nodded in acknowledgment to Khelerath’s apology.

“Where did you find such an exquisite creature?” Khelerath’s black eyes met your ocean blue ones and you suddenly understood that Khelerath had no desire to eat you... but to have you in ways that you had not been had in. You were only in your early twenties and spent most of your teenage years as an government experiment so you never had time for boys...

“Earth” Loki said simply and you hid behind him to get away from the sex crazed king’s eyes. “Now, I would like to find a way home for me and my pet but-“

“I am very sorry my friend but there is no way off of Dicarro. Well at least not at the moment. You must wait for our caravan to pass through. You are more than welcome to stay at the palace until then” Khelerath clapped his hands and 2, what looked like servants, appeared at his side.

“Please show Loki and Y/n” The way your name rolled off his forked tongue made you shiver in disgust. “To one of our nicer rooms. Oh, and find Loki something to tether Y/n to him. We wouldn’t want someone trying to steal her away when he wasn’t looking” The way his eyes glinted at you made your stomach turn. This was definitely not good...

#cammi-writes #marvel #marvel imagine #loki laufeyson #loki (marvel) #loki fanfic #loki x reader #loki imagine #loki of asgard #loki x you #loki god of mischief #loki god of lies

[kiefbowl]

I'm super duper insecure about my boobs. They are the same size, but my areolas are two completely different sizes. The one on the right is huge and hangs so much lower and it makes me so scared to look at myself in the mirror. Any tips on how to jumpstart the self love? I just want to stop thinking about it every day :(

Sorry this took awhile I wanted to give the time to answer it because I’ve been busy this week, but also something about this ask struck me deeply, and that is your word choice. And so what follows is what I doubt you were expecting, and is not within the tone of you question, but important to me and ultimately your word choice betrays you so I think you’ll want to read it, sweet sister.

Because this struck me as a very odd thing to say, though I believe it’s true even if you didn’t intend me to extrapolate as much: “the one on the right…hangs so much lower…it makes me so scared to look myself in the mirror.”

What are you afraid of?

You posses the reality in your mind about your right breast, but you’re afraid to look at it. It’s a strange duality because there seems to be the idea that you can handle that it’s true as long as you don’t have to perceive that it’s real. It speaks very true to me that that is the case because we see the same sort of rhetoric played out in so many different ways everyday that I argue is a byproduct of living under patriarchy and capitalism, among other things. There is definitely a cleave in our mind of our physical reality, our perceptions, and our mental self. I’ve spoken about it before, but essentially we compartmentalize these 3 parts of our selves, our existence, and deny the functioning whole of all 3. It allows us to also disassociate with one when we don’t like it or don’t want it.

Meaning what we see is some how different and excused from the space we’re occupying. The space we’re occupying has nothing to do with out thoughts and existence. Our body is temporary and disposable. Our senses are deniable when we don’t engage them. Our minds can be whatever we want as long as we believe strong enough. It’s false, but it’s played out in so many of us (even me!) in interesting ways that sometimes we don’t even recognize it. It’s a fucking existential nightmare, but at this point in time it’s par for course. We don’t realize we’re living in a way that is agonizing to the whole of us because we’ve been told it simply is. It simply IS that your employer owns your sleep schedule. It simply IS that war is necessary and it’s own art. It simply IS that the earth can be sectioned off for destruction for things like Nike shoes, iPhone chargers, and McDonald’s kids meal toys because it simply IS that you don’t want a life without those things, but of course. God forbid we lived in a world without Nike shoes, and the thousands of brands just like them.

But imagine the horror beyond horror if you took an ancient ancestor of ours and explained the destruction of a nuclear bomb, that people created it purposefully, and that people used it. At this moment, you might be like, where the fuck is a nuclear bomb related to my fucking right titty, but all things are connected sister. I want you to really imagine what it takes for even the generation before the nuclear bomb to really conceptualize the bomb’s existence alone, not to mention it’s soon to be future (and now current history).

And I mean really imagine it. Imagine the space between the people dropping the bomb vs. the people experiencing the bomb. Imagine the reality of people actually advocating for the production of these bombs. Imagine the body horror of people who have been victims of these bombs, and imagine a person who is so far removed from this reality in time, but is just as much human as us having to entertain these realities of all I’ve just described for just this one thing. It would probably be nightmarish to even think about. There would be refusal it is even possible, not scientifically, but humanly.

And imagine you, my lovely sister. You live in a post nuclear bomb world. And you live amongst people who all live in a post nuclear bomb world.

Is it no wonder that capitalists can propagate nonsense so easily that allow us to sever the ties with out body, our senses, our minds? Indeed, must they have done so themselves in order to be in the positions they are, to promote such evil things? Can you believe there are constituents who argue against universal health care? Our ancient grandmothers would not be able to comprehend the stupidity in which we so disregard our bodies, deny that they are as living in this world as us. It’s so ridiculous, it’s hard to come up with words to describe it. My sentences are almost nonsensical. “Deny that our bodies are as living in this world as we are” is dancing on a line of crazed lunacy. We are fighting against something in our minds that is so mounting, dark, and delirious as we live amongst the things and realities we now have assumed to be the natural progression of our world.

So…your titty. You can’t look at it. It fills you with fear. Fear of what, dearest? It hangs too low, unequal with its sister. This fills you with fear? Fear that it’s real and inescapable? But what is in the reality of your titty hanging low that is so fearful? What does a life look like with a low hanging breast that makes you too scared to live it?

Is it the fear of being unloved? Unlovable? Unsexed? Unconsumed? What life could lived better with a breast that sits higher? Are you watched more? Watched less? Do men attend to you? Is their attention desirable? Is it agony to find clothes? Would it be some relief for once to just buy clothes without breasts, and to look at yourself in the mirror reminds you that your life is filled with this nuisance until death?

Dear sister, I’m not joking when I ask, does she remind you of death? Your breast, is she age? Is she time passing? Is she illness lurking in the future?

Are you scared of words? Of lovers? Will nothing they say or do satisfy your fear and dislike of your body, and you know it’s true and you dread the experience?

But perhaps it is more like:

Are you aware of your body when you look in the mirror? Must you use your eyes to see that when you are reflected back to yourself you are, in fact, an animal of the world? That you inhabit, you survive, you feel sensations? And these sensations, they exist in your mind as well? Does the mirror remind you that you are entwined with your own self, a self you live to some degree shattered. Shattered because you’ve been told to, but also shattered because it is easier than the agony of facing what we know is true. It is easier living a shattered self when the world we now live in demands we live so inhumanly.

Does the mirror taunt this from you? Does your titty, does she laugh at your plans? She does nothing, and still continues to be. Her existence is the proof of gravity, of time, of natural forces. And she lives so unconcerned of it, she simply is at this time and place. Is your titty at peace while you are not?

So now that I’ve gone on a kafkaesque rant that does not at all match your tone of your original submission, let’s talk about what you actually asked: self love.

Self love I think is realizing that the above is true, and desperately, agonizing for the correction of it. Be intoxicated by the idea of your mirror self. Demand reality in your own life. Love the Self, not just your boobie. Your boobie is unaffected by you. She doesn’t care you don’t like her. She is not her own entity, she is a part of your functioning whole. She’ll continue to be. She is as unaffected by your mourning of a “better” body or a “perfect” body as your heart, or arm, or teeth.

So be her. Be her! She’s you!

Take time every day to stop and experience the world around you in the moment. Stop, and feel the presence of your moment, the energy of the people, the sun on your skin, the warmth it fills you with. To love your body is to love being alive on this earth as a human. You have to want those 3 things to be special and meaningful to you, all working together. You cannot escape that you on this earth at this time, that you are on this earth as a human, and that you are a living human. You have to make peace with the fact that you’re alive. You have to practice active living.

Since you’ve made it this far, here’s what you were actually looking for that is also useful and more fun to read:-masturbate!-try drawing yourself. I like to smoke weed and draw my self in front of the mirror no joke. -walk around naked as much as you can-go braless as much as you can!!!!-read up on biology because it helps you remember that your titty is just a titty-look at unsexualized pictures of titties-and of course masturbate!!:)

[pixelgrotto]

"Don’t give up, Senua”

Hellblade: Senua’s Sacrifice is one of those games that’s hard to view objectively if you’re up-to-date with video game trends. It came out about a month ago and is currently an industry darling for combining the thoughtful nature and affordable price point of indie games with the big-budget look of AAA games. It’s effectively brought back the concept of the “mid-tier” title, something that existed before the PS3 and Xbox 360 era, when the cost of developing games suddenly became too expensive for most companies to aim for anything less than the returns yielded by mainstream blockbusters. It’s finally won wholehearted praise for developer Ninja Theory, who produced a reboot of Devil May Cry four years ago which attracted so many whiners that Capcom now seems determined to forget that it ever existed. (A mistake, if you ask me.) And most importantly, Hellblade has garnered recognition for its earnest and extensive portrayal of psychosis. Ninja Theory dared to create a game starring a protagonist who suffers from acute mental illness, and thanks to input from neuroscientists and actual psychosis patients, they pulled it off respectfully, to the point where Mental Health America had approving words.

All of this is great, and made me wanna check the game out ASAP even though I’ve got a ton of other things on my backlog. After my first couple hours, though, I realized that there were actually a lot of things that I didn’t like about Hellblade, which made me feel sorta guilty. I’m all for criticizing critical darlings if I find them overrated, but Hellblade’s very existence was doing so many wonderful things for the industry that it seemed unfair of me to have anything less than gushing praise. So I continued playing until the conclusion of Senua’s 10 hour journey, wondering if my opinions would change. And they partially did. In the end, I’ll say that Hellblade deserves to be played by as many people as possible - though there were several occasions where I found the experience clunky and even painful.  Even though it’s mostly been promoted as a third-person action adventure, Hellblade is really a psychological horror game, and the premise makes me think of a Celtic version of Silent Hill. Senua is a Pict warrior trying to enter Hel to free the soul of her murdered lover, and because she has multiple voices raging in her head and can’t stop hallucinating, there’s some discrepancy over how much of her journey is actually “real.” A discussion on reality is pointless, however, because the ordeal of the quest is real to Senua, and it soon feels real to the player too, especially as the game stealthily weaves the multiple voices of Senua’s mind in and out of your ears thanks to surround sound. Then there are the hallucinations that you’re forced to endure, many of which manifest by changing the environment. One particularly unpleasant hallucination turns Senua’s surroundings into a blood-soaked realm filled with human hands all gripping for her flesh, and it’s heavy stuff. There’s a high probability that playing through Hellblade will be too much for a lot of people, especially those who have personally suffered from psychosis or other forms of mental illness. It was too much for me at some points, and when I call the experience “painful,” I mean that I really had to put the gamepad down every now and then or risk being overwhelmed. All of this made Hellblade an ordeal to play, but it’s perfectly okay to make players endure grimness as long as they’re invested in the characters they’re controlling and want to see things through until the end. Horror games do this all the time, and believe me, I was rooting for Senua to persevere and emerge victorious from the dungeon of her mind. Unfortunately, while grimness is one thing to endure, not-so-fun technical design decisions are another thing entirely. Hellblade typically has you doing either one of three things - 1) watching cutscenes, 2) fighting vikings, or 3) using Senua’s “focus” ability to zone in on hidden runes in the environment, which are then used to open doors and solve puzzles. This “focus” mechanic is actually meant to evoke the capability that psychotic people have to mentally restructure their surroundings, zoning in on certain details and seeing elaborate patterns in the items around them that others might be totally unaware of. While it’s admirable that Ninja Theory managed to take this and make it into a main gameplay pillar, I just didn’t find the puzzles particularly satisfying or enjoyable. All you’re really doing is wandering around looking for optical illusions, several of which are a pain to locate. Once you find ‘em, you go, “Hm, that’s neat,” open a door, and then find some more. There are a few different parts where you’ve got to traverse mini-mazes or use Senua’s focus to rebuild bridges and stairs, but mostly its just looking for runes. It’s probably a good thing that Hellblade only lasts for 10 hours, since this mechanic wouldn’t be able to sustain interest in a longer game.

I did like the combat more than the puzzle solving, and pretty much all of the screenshots above were taken during battle segments. I don’t wanna say that the game “feels like Dark Souls” (ugh), but Senua’s movements and sword swings do have a similar weight to them, and it’s satisfying to see blows connect. The only problem is the camera, which is something that really should not be an issue in a 2017 game. Senua’s just too close to the screen most of the time, and when stuck in a combat stance she lacks a fast move to create distance between herself and enemies. Because combat encounters usually take place in confined spaces with multiple foes, it’s quite possible to get stuck in a corner with your vision blocked as everybody curb-stomps you to death, and the whole thing kinda feels reminiscent of something out of an early third-person PS1 game.

These technical issues, as well as a prominent gameplay mechanic that I didn’t especially like, would keep me from giving Hellblade five out of five stars if I were reviewing it for a magazine. But I think I’d go ahead and give it three and a half stars, and I’d also earnestly proclaim that this is a game that’s still worth experiencing at least once. Why? Well, because of what it represents and encompasses - a positive portrayal of a much misunderstood disorder, an unsexualized female protagonist who strives to be heroic despite her flaws, a game that strips away all of the fat plaguing far too many modern titles and offers an intriguing alternative to teeny indies and bloated big-budget spectacles. And also because there were a few times when Hellblade, despite its problems, really clicked for me. 

(Some light spoilers ahead, FYI.)

The first occasion was when a determined Senua cleared two gates blocking her from a bridge leading to Hel. When she finally steps foot on that bridge, the game kicks in with an awesome Norse-inspired backing track that really pumps up the soul. A flurry of enemies fly at Senua, and combat with them is fast and glorious, particularly since it’s on an open bridge and not the usual confined spaces where the other battles take place. 

The second occasion was when Senua temporarily loses all ability to see her surroundings. Guided only by the voice of her dead lover and the fading light of a single torch, the player has to help her navigate a forested area and a cabin filled with grotesque flesh monsters just lurking in the background. It’s here that the game’s binaural audio really proves its worth. You can hear the monsters, but you can’t really see them, and the dread is intense. Then there’s a part where Senua has to move through a series of corridors that all look the same, and every time she makes an error and ends up travelling in circles, the muses in her mind laugh at her with frightening ferocity, creating surreal feelings of claustrophobia, confusion and frustration - perhaps the closest the game ever gets to actually emulating the experience of living with voices constantly inside your head.  And the third occasion was at the very end, when Senua faces Hela and her minions in a final battle to the haunting ambiance of a really incredible song by Passarella Death Squad. Not only is the song the perfect accompaniment for the desperation of this finale, but this is the moment in the game where Senua’s mastered the voices in her head - at least temporarily - and forced them to work together in harmony. While the voices have always chimed in during combat to serve as a kind of “second sense” for Senua, warning her when enemies are about to strike from behind, they’ve usually done so in a denigrating way. This conclusion, however, sees the voices finally acknowledging Senua’s worth and encouraging her onwards. “You can do this, Senua.” “Behind you, Senua.” “Look out, Senua.” All of these are gentle whispers rather than the normal cackles and cacophony, and the end result feels like poetry in motion as you press buttons in a pulsating attempt to overcome both Hela and Senua’s inner madness. It’s cathartic, it’s a darn good ending and it makes the game feel worthwhile. 

That, in a nutshell, is Hellblade: Senua’s Sacrifice. Highly imperfect, but also highly worthwhile. I probably won’t ever play this game again, and I’m not sure if I’ll be checking for its sequel...but I am glad that it was made. Both the electronic entertainment industry and the mental health community deserve something like this, and I’m perfectly comfortable with saying that Hellblade deserves all of the attention it’s been getting. Even if it wasn’t 100% my cup of tea. All screenshots taken by yours truly using Hellblade’s photo mode.

#pixel grotto #video games #now playing #hellblade #hellblade senua's sacrifice #ninja theory

[fire-fira]

I just wanted to ask like.. why people put ship hate in the ship tag? And why people get so pissy about shipping 'children' with a 2-3 year age gap? Like what's so wrong with that? 90% of the time it's totally unsexual until it gets aged up and it's normally characters that have so much mental trauma they're probably already adults mentally anyways?? I'm so confused do you have any light on the subject as a fellow bluepulse shipper?

There are several things at work I think.

On one hand people who hate the ship who put their hate in the tag may genuinely not care if those of us who like the ship see it or not; on the other hand they may want us to see their hate as an attempt to shame us.

Then there’s the thing with the 2-3 year age gap. I know at least one of the antis is looking at the ship’s age gap through the lens of something awful they went through (that person was 13 and the horrendous douchebag was 16), and while I understand where their discomfort comes from it doesn’t change the fact that there’s an over-generalization of ‘X = BAD’ going on. There’s nothing inherently abusive about a 2-3 year age gap (or even larger age gaps), but because there are a few instances of people using their greater knowledge base to abuse others a lot of people over-generalize and assume that any age gap in a relationship like that is a sign of abuse. (I’ve actually discussed this in these two posts.)

Then there’s also the assumption that queer relationships are somehow inherently more sexual than straight relationships (which they aren’t, but the antis don’t seem to care). Then there’s the racist assumption that latinx people are inherently more sexual than white people, which then creates this assumption that Jaime is the more sexual one and would be creeping on Bart while Bart is 13. (Which, Jaime creeping on Bart? Riiiiight. We all know Bart would be the one making passes at Jaime first.)

So you’ve basically got this equation (and I’m pretty much framing this in a logic argument way, just to make it as clear as possible– though I by no means agree with any of this):

Age gap of 3 years (13 & 16) = abuse and BAD-13 = child-16 = adult-13-year-old & 16-year-old = p/e/d/o/p/h/i/l/i/a

‘Gay’ relationship = ONLY sexual

Mixed-race relationship = not good/bound to have problems-Latinx = hyper-sexual-white = ‘innocent’

Therefore,age gap + ‘gay’ relationship + mixed-race relationship =a sexually-abusive relationship where a hyper-sexual latinx adult is making advances on an innocent white child.

That’s the logic most of the antis are operating with I think. It completely ignores the fact that age gaps are not inherently abusive in and of themselves, that people and characters age, that there is nothing inherently more sexual about queer relationships, that there’s nothing inherently more sexual about POC, that white people are not inherently ‘more innocent’ or ‘more pure’ than POC, and that just because we think that Jaime and Bart are cute together does not mean we want to see underage porn of them or have them having wild sex right from the get-go.

And with that framework and the issues I laid out in the two linked posts, it then makes a twisted sort of sense why the antis wouldn’t hesitate to put their hate in our tag. They are viewing the ship as something that it isn’t, and some of them may be actively trying to shame us out of liking the ship altogether. They try to insist that aging up the characters doesn’t work because people will only see them as the ages they have been shown at in season 2 (at least until whenever season 3 comes out), and that by supporting the ship we are supporting and normalizing p/e/d/o/p/h/i/l/i/a– but that completely ignores the logic of actual fact.

–Because we don’t see the same criticisms leveled at queer ships where the two characters are both read as white (Birdflash- Dick Grayson x Wally West, even though Dick is romani), or straight ships even if they’re mixed-race (Traught- Dick Grayson x Artemis Crock), even when the age gap is the same or larger. If you want an extreme example: none of them are screaming about Super///martian, even though the age gap between them is the largest we see in the series.

Sorry if this turned into a flood of information and carefully controlled frustration, but I hope it helps make some things make sense (or at least as much sense as it’s going to make).

#bluepulse #discourse

[annaentreloscuentos]

“Hatari!” An example of queer coding in film history

As I watched for the first time in years the movie “Hatari!” a new perspective came to mind, and I discovered a secret my subconscious had been telling me about since childhood. “Hatari!” is a simple, charming kind of romantic comedy-adventure, about a group of hunters in Africa that catch animals and sell them to Zoos all over Europe. The movie is quite forgotten nowadays since it has no big thrills, action scenes, dramatic love story or gross out humor. It is only remembered as one of the decent John Wayne movies. But it turns out, it is also an example of queer coding done right and for the right reasons and contains a beautiful powerful gay “bromance” story.

 So, let’s do this.

I know what a lot of you may be thinking. Queerbaiting is never right! But queer coding and queer baiting are not the same. It is only recently that the LGBT community has gained its rights, and even now the representation in media is usually not very good or inexistent, just as with the majority of minorities. But during the 40, 50 and 60 eras things were much worse. Since the beginning of Hollywood, films had to be approved by the censors before they could appear on screen. No extreme violence, no sexual relations, no communist propaganda and definitely no queer content was allowed. However, things got worse when in 1946 the Hollywood Blacklist started. It was then when screenplayers, actors, and directors started to be imprisoned for their beliefs. And until 1960, when Trumbo was actually recognized and accepted back in Hollywood the Blacklist stayed. But even afterward, the witchhunts and censorships continued. Therefore, those who wanted to tell different stories, present outside characters or represent themselves had to use coding and subtext to do so. And thus, queer coding became a loudly spoken secret, just as subtextual communist ideas or sexual tension and innuendos disguised as the fight of the sexes. And “Hatari!” a movie by the great Howard Hawks and released in 1962, made a great and positive use of this, which is why I wanted to use this movie as an example.

The film tells the story of the chief of the hunters, played by John Wayne, who falls in love with a photographer that works for a zoo from Switzerland. At first, it seems he can’t stand her, and he assumes she is going to be trouble. But as their relationship blooms and they even adopt three motherless elephants, it turns out they are quite a good match for each other. Of course, it is not this two characters that interested me in my new viewing of the movie. Although when I  watched it for the first time with my father, who loves it, I thought they were the most relevant characters of the story, two other characters caught even then my attention. And it’s about their relationship I want to talk here.

The movie begins with one of the hunters getting hit by a rhinoceros. Immediately, they all rush to hospital, but by the time they arrive, “The Indian” has already lost a lot of blood. It is then when a new character appears. A French guy named Charles Maurey that has heard they’ll be needing a new worker. Of course, Kurt Muller, a German car racer that is part of the hunter’s team, jumps immediately with anger. His friend is “not yet dead”, and so he hits the French guy. However, as it turns out  “The Indian” has a pretty rare blood type, and the only person that can transfuse him is the French man. But Charles does not care about the job anymore, he just wants Kurt to ask him for help. Thus their love story begins. Even if very few people will recognize this couple as more than friends, the coding is there.

Charles, who soon will be called “Chips” by his new colleagues, and Kurt are the only male characters in the entire movie that are somewhat sexualized. The female love interests appear almost always fully and usually quite modestly clothed ( the only exception being the time Dallas is “attacked” by a leopard while showering). In fact, you could say, especially if you look at other movies the actresses partook in, that they were unsexualized in this one. In contrast, “Chips” always shows off his muscles under are a tight blue shirt and a pair of “Rebel-without-a-Cause-Glasses”; and Kurt wears the shortest pants with pride, while he unbuttons his collar, and makes the same use of his glasses. 

The second time they meet, some days have passed since “The Indian” got send to the hospital, and John Wayne receives a call, telling him that “Chips” abandoned the place after asking for money. Kurt assumes that he has gotten the money for himself and is not going to appear again. But soon after, the French comes by, a rifle that he bought back with the money he asked for in his hands, and ready to apply for the job. After they try him out and realize he’s a good shot, Kurt seems to be quite happy to accept him and even gives him his weapon. “Chips” punches him in the face and asks him afterward: “Do you still want me?”

It was at this point that I first noticed the queer coding. Who would ask if someone still wanted him when he was applying for a job? Funny enough, it was obvious that the reason they did not like each other at the beginning was mare Pride from “Chip’s” side and Prejudice from Kurt’s part. But after this, they become close friends. They drive together in the same car, they wear the same glasses, are always close to each other, “Chips” even safes Kurt’s life at one point… And yes, they also fight for the same girl. You may wonder how that’s possible if they are both gay. However, it was rather usual for queer coded movies to put a female love interest in between “gay acted” characters, in order for the film to pass the censorship. It is obvious if you see the movie that neither of the two men is really interested in the girl they are chasing. They pass more screen time looking at each other than at her, and when it turns out that she is in love with the comedic character, they accept it easily and Kurt invites “Chips” for a drink. 

What is great about this movie is that you can easily see when the screen players or director thought, they were being too obvious, as immediately after a very close scene between them comes another one with a female counterpart, or were one is relegated to the background, looking at the other from time to time with apparent longing. They get hurt together, they heal their wounds together, literary in fact, and they are always driving together. By the end of the movie, they both have planned to go to Paris together and stay there until the next hunting season. They apparently both know a girl there. “It’s a good excuse for another fight,wright” says Kurt and then asks John Wayne what his love interest is going to do, therefore comparing “Chips” with the girl Wayne loves.

It is precisely this ending that makes me love the movie more. And for that to be understood we have to see how the queer coding at the time went. When we think about hidden queer characters in classics, usually there are some movies that pop up repeatedly: “Strangers on a train” by Alfred Hitchcock, “Spartacus” by Stanley Kubrick, “Some like it hot” by Billy Wilder… Each of this three examples shows a different kind of typical queer coded character:

 “Strangers on a train” was not the only time Hitchcock queer coded main characters. He did the same with the movie “Rope” and the similarities between the men are quite obvious. As much as I love Hitchcock both for his films and his willingness to break molds and fight for acceptance, I have to agree with those that criticize him for making his villains gay. Even in “Strangers on a train”, where the hero is also queer coded, he ends up with a female lover instead of with his villainous gay counterpart. In that sense, “Spartacus”, the movie that helped break the Black List and is all about freedom of expression and the right to be oneself, has a similar problem. Tony Curtis plays a young, attractive and somewhat feminine slave that falls in love for Spartacus, who rescues and takes care of him. But as the story is a tragedy and a reflection of the times Trumbo lived in as he wrote it, everybody dies. Only Spartacus’ female lover survives and runs away with her baby. 

And then we have the hilarious “Some like It hot”, that is way more explicit and actually has a happy ending for the two queer coded characters. The only slight problem is that these characters are supposed to be a joke. Their sexuality is supposed to be part of the joke. By stating this, I’m not trying to devaluate these movies. They are some of the best films ever made, touching on impossible themes at the time with impeccable taste and great direction. But they also show the stereotype that would follow gay characters in movies up until now. 

There have only been three queer characters in Hollywood for decades: The comic relief, the villain, or the hero with a tragic ending. Nothing more nothing less. And this is the brilliance of “Hatari!” in my opinion. Kurt and “Chips” are anything but gay stereotypes. They don’t have a tragic ending, they are not villains, and they are not there to be a comic relief. In fact, “Pockets” the character that so easily could have been queer coded, is the one that ends up with the girl.

This is the reason I wanted to write this essay. This two minor, overlooked characters of a movie that nobody bothers to remember could easily be the best gay couple that was written during the censorship era. And they end up happy, and they have never been outed before. So this is me pulling them out of the closet.

 I hope you like it.

 But even if you don’t believe the couple is gay, you can still enjoy the movie, as my family does, because of its light harded humour, great score from Henri Manccini, great screenplay by some of the best Hollywood writers at the time, and beautiful elephants in the room ;)

#queerbaiting #queer coding #film theory #cinema