#The idea permeates the whole show

[saints-who-never-existed]

“In the war film, a soldier can hold his buddy—as long as his buddy is dying on the battlefield. In the western, Butch Cassidy can wash the Sundance Kid’s naked flesh—as long as it is wounded. In the boxing film, a trainer can rub the well-developed torso and sinewy back of his protege—as long as it is bruised. In the crime film, a mob lieutenant can embrace his boss like a lover—as long as he is riddled with bullets. 

Violence makes the homo-eroticism of many “male” genres invisible; it is a structural mechanism of plausible deniability.”

–Tarantino’s Incarnational Theology: Reservoir Dogs, Crucifixions, and Spectacular Violence. Kent L. Brintnall.

#Another day another quote that's been rattling around in my head for an age #Which again sums things up better than I ever could #And of course it's not just about the physical deterioration at the end of the story allowing for intimacy #The idea permeates the whole show #Tozer holding Heather as his exposed brain freezes on the deck #Crozier and Hickey reaching a state of psychological intimacy but only through the violence of the lash #You could argue a link between Hickey and Goodsir too through the intimacy and violence inflicted on Irving #Both his killing and his autopsy #The Terror #The Terror AMC #Meta

[lovers-rck]

Can you do a fluff where like Ellie gets you flowers 😭 idk why I just think it’s so cute

it's so cute!!!!!!!!! i want ellie as my gf so bad it's embarrassing

☆

the idea had been lurking in the back of her mind for weeks.

ellie didn't consider herself the kind of person who gives her partner something new every week. she was, indeed, in love with you, but her love expressed itself through her touch and words more than through gifts. but whatever, she thought, once in a while doesn't hurt anyone.

so she went, and when the flower boy (is that how he is called?) asked ellie wich kind of flowers she was looking for, she felt like and idiot i don't know man she almost said the ones she likes?

ellie even considered calling you to ask you what kind of flowers you liked, but she realized it was a dumb idea that would ruin her whole surprise plan. so she spent about 15 minutes picking out a bouquet made up of different flowers, choosing and regretting every time she picked a flower of a color that didn't match the rest. she could feel the flower boy's (she decided to call it like that) hateful look on her, but she was going to pay him anyway so fuck it.

then she walked a few blocks back with the flowers in her hands. she cringed. she didn't know how to hold them without feeling embarrassed and like a total loser.

"i saw dina and jesse on my way here" you said, laying in ellie's bed a couple hours later "they looked suspiciously couple"

ellie nodded "right" ellie mumbled as she paced the room, playing with her fingers.

"do you think they're together?"

ellie cast furtive glances toward her closet from time to time, trying to keep the thread of conversation going but failing in the attempt "huh?" she replied.

"dina and jesse" you repeated, looking at her "do you think they're together?"

she pretended to think about it, imagining her best friends together. then shrugged "i don't know. maybe"

you leaned back on your stomach, your hands supporting the weight of your head thoughtfully "they look good together"

ellie nodded absently, her body so restless that she couldn't stay in the same place for more than three seconds. if you saw the situation from afar, you'd think ellie was performing some kind of strange dance.

"i bought you something" ellie said after a few seconds.

you furrowed your eyebrows and sat down on the bed. you noticed how ellie was restless since you arrived, quieter than usual, not commenting much on your stories like she used to do practically all the time.

"what's that?" you asked, watching as ellie turned away to look for something hidden in her closet "you didn't have to."

she shake her, opening the closet door "it's not much"

you waited silently, watching as the locks stealthily escaped from her half bun, adorning her face and matching her freckles.

"close your eyes" ellie said, more for her sake than for yours.

you obeyed and closed your eyes, trying not to laugh at the suspense ellie was creating.

ellie laughed uncomfortably. her footsteps echoed in the room, indicating that she was approaching you "don't peek"

"i'm not!"

"i know" Ellie murmured, standing in front of you with the bouquet in her hands "i just wanted to make sure".

you let out a giggle, the excitement pouring out of your pores.

"okay" ellie took a big inhale "open them up"

a feast of colors and scents rose in front of your face. yellows, oranges, reds and pinks danced in your eyes, showing their ephemeral beauty. ellie hid behind the bouquet, her gaze intent on you, trying to decipher what your expression meant.

"ellie..." you murmured, getting up from the bed and stroking a yellow petal.

"i don't know what flowers you like" ellie replied "in fact, i didn't even know there were that many flowers. there were a million there, i thought maybe you'd like these."

you were still admiring each of the flowers. their smells permeated your nostrils, making your nose itch but you wanted to smell them one more time.

"i put the bouquet together all by myself" ellie continued, a hint of pride in her voice "that guy at the flower shop didn't even help me. he didn't know shit about anything. i bet it was his first da..."

you gently took the flowers from ellie's hands and laid them on the bed, wrapping ellie's body in a hug.

"thank you" you murmured, your arms wrapping around her neck.

ellie took a few seconds to reciprocate your embrace, but when she did you could feel a weight lift off her shoulders. ever since you arrived she had a feeling that a wolf was inhabiting her stomach, ready to devour every organ in her body if her gift didn't go as she had planned.

now she was relaxed, her mind didn't feel the need to babble on about everything that was going through her head to avoid the nervousness. she was so awkward and you loved it.

she hid her face in the space between your shoulder and your neck, her arms around your waist in the softest way.

"did you like them?" she murmured against your skin.

you laughed lightly before nodding fiercely "they're beautiful"

ellie released you from her clutches after a few seconds, sitting on the bed and indicating you to do the same next to her, to babble randoms data she had taken care to learn about those flowers a few hours before your arrival.

the sun went down and gave way to a sunset of the same colors as those flowers, while you told ellie where the flowers would go, she listened to you attentively while she left delicate kisses on your skin, some more wet than others. the reality is that ellie couldn't care less about those flowers when she had you in front of her.

#ellie x reader #ellie williams x reader #tlou

[bongo-clash]

Peacock Au Part 3

(Part One & Two here!!!)

Continuation of the Eldritch Danny DPxDC fic!!!! This is Kind Of the final chapter but Bones has also been making my brain go So Wild with other ideas so!!! Big chance they'll be more parts at some point (probably after Ectober week if I do!!)

Either Way Here It Is

(Fic under cut!!) (+ Part 4 Here)

-

Constantine makes the executive decision not to explain anything to Batman until the other League members are gathered in the watchtower meeting room. Maybe not his best choice, evidenced for the most part by the seething glare the vigilante is shooting him from his place at the head of the table, but still, John really doesn’t want to have to talk about this any more than he has to. It’s already going to be a pain in his side as is. 

It doesn’t take long for the rest to appear through the zeta tubes. Superman and Wonder Woman predictably arriving first of the lot, followed by Zatanna, the Flash, and then Green Lantern. Once they’re all settled and he figures this is all the people that’ll be showing up today, he deigns to begin speaking. He might’ve appreciated a bit of a higher attendance rate, but he’ll take it. 

“Alright, you lot,” He starts, just as the Green Lantern opens his mouth, likely to ask what this whole meeting is for. “I believe we’ve got a little bit of a situation on our hands.”

“Situation how, Constantine.” Batman asks, eyes narrowed behind the cowl, the furthest thing from a question. 

Constantine sighs deeply, fingers fidgeting in his coat pocket for a cigarette even if he knows he can’t smoke in the watchtower (maybe he could just hold one…). In lieu of looking the man in the face, however, he addresses everyone else in the room. “Well, see, the Bat here had a Pit forming in his territory, and he decided it’d be a bloody brilliant idea to call me for help instead of literally anyone else. The good news is the Pit’s gone. The bad news is I’m pretty sure the thing that got rid of it is worse.”

A few of them make faces, since if Constantine’s involved then this is definitely a magic problem, and none of them are fans of magic problems- Superman looks like he’s trying not to twitch. “Can you describe it?” 

“Not properly, no. Big, bright, bit of a space theme going on? Had these horrible things on them, kept changing between eyes and mouths and hands- used those to reach out and get rid of the Lazarus Pit, ‘far as I could see. They knew I was doing it for the Big Bat even though I never said a word about it, and from what I understand, they wanted a favour for sorting it out. I don’t know what they want it for.”

Batman’s face is unreadable, but there’s a scrutiny there that permeates the air around him. “So you discovered the existence of a powerful, unknown entity, and not only did you deign to summon it into our world, but you then proceeded to make a deal with it as well, completely unaware of the potential consequences.”

“In my defence,” Constantine retorts. “This is entirely your fault for getting me involved. I’ve no clue why you thought coming to me was a solid plan in the first place.”

There’s a storm brewing beneath that bat mask, but Wonder Woman intercepts before it can descend into a full-blown argument. “Now is no time to be assigning blame, we need a plan. Do you know of any way we can attain more information on this being, Constantine?”

“Not the foggiest,” He replies simply. “The only thing the book said was that it could help with the Pits. When I asked the damn thing what it was, it just gave me a riddle and, quite frankly, I wasn’t going to push it. So unless Zatanna has anything, I’ve got nothing.”

The whole table turns to look at Zatanna. She has a contemplative look on her face, pausing for the moment presumably to run through the information in her head. “Well, there’s a lot of entities around whose existences centre on keeping the balance between realms or concepts, but this is the first I’ve heard about anything like this. The closest thing I could think of is maybe Pariah Dark, since he’s known to have a connection to the Lazarus Pits, but he’s been out of commission for centuries now, and he’s never been depicted at all the way you described…”

“…And I know for a fact that his summoning ritual requires a blood sacrifice, and this thing didn’t want blood.” Constantine finishes. 

Zatanna makes a sour face, seeming to understand his implications, and the remaining non-magic members of the JL look appropriately disturbed. He thinks the worst thing about it for them is probably that there’s no real way to plan this out. They’ve got no power list, no strengths, no weaknesses, they don’t even really know what the entity is beyond its relation to the Lazarus Pits and even that’s an area of questionability, because the Pits are damn confusing on their own. If this thing shows up on them now, they’re screwed.

And just as the thought crosses his mind, there’s a tangible shift in the watchtower atmosphere, like the air’s thinning and closing in on itself at the same time. He looks at Zatanna with matching confusion, praying to gods he’s never met and that don’t like him that he hasn’t just managed to jinx himself in the worst way possible. 

“Do you feel that?” He says, and it doesn’t look like it’s only the other magic user in the room that does, because a fair few of the remaining League are pulling expressions Constantine really doesn’t like. Please, please say he hasn’t jinxed himself. 

There’s a sound like whale song and whistling as something comes up through the floor, and there’s not enough languages on Earth or beyond to encapsulate how many swears John wants to say right now. 

But it’s not the entity. 

Or at least, it doesn’t look like the entity, even if it certainly feels like it. It kind of looks like a teenager, of all the awful things. They have flare-white hair, bright, sheepish green eyes, and they’re wearing what Constantine thinks is a hazmat suit but doesn’t know enough about hazardous material protection to say for certain. No alarms going off, no doors opening or shutting, no signals at all; just a weird breeze, and the few seconds of warning that gives before the being appeared. That’s worrying. The way the League doesn’t even say anything is more so. 

“Hi,” They start, after what feels like an eternity of silence, and oh boy, they really do sound about twelve. Constantine doesn’t know how to deal with children, let alone ones that can just phase into the most secure superhero base in Earth’s orbit. This is awful. “Okay, so, I feel like we got off on the wrong foot yesterday, so I just wanted to, y’know, rectify my first impression? Uh, sorry if I came across sort of… weird.”

Everyone looks at the glowing kid. Everyone looks at each other. No one knows what to say. Flash decides to be the one to break the silence with a cough. “That’s great, kid! Uh… who are you, though?”

“Oh!” They startle. “Right. Me and Constantine met yesterday- I think I kind of scared him? It was by accident, though, I promise! I’d just had a long day, y’know? I didn’t know I was gonna get summoned and I wasn’t thinking so everything just kind of happened.”

No way. 

No. No way in Hell.

“You are not that thing I summoned yesterday.” 

And he knows, he knows entities like that tend to have forms more palatable for mortal eyes, but after seeing that yesterday, his brain just cannot for the life of it connect it to this. This child floating mid-air in a base he shouldn’t be able to access, with big huge earnest eyes and a painfully youthful face. One that seems to have reached a realisation. 

“Ah,” He says, smile just a little bit wry. “Fair enough, I did look kinda different then. Just- here, this should look a little more familiar?”

It’s not a full shift. He doesn’t contort into the same mind-searing thing that Constantine had had to bear yesterday- but his eyes scatter into neon spots across his face, nose and mouth left intact, the neck of his jumpsuit folds into the creases of an open eye, and those peacock-membrane-whatevers fall into fruition on his back, drifting like a cape or like spines. And just to top it all off, there’s a dinky little crown floating above his head, decorated with icicles and whispers of mist. 

It’s not a full shift, but Constantine’s never going to forget those damn cosmic peacock feathers. No mistaking it: that’s the entity. Forget yesterday, this is the worst day of his life. 

“What the Hell is happening right now.” Green Lantern flatlines, face dulled into non-understanding. Constantine thinks he feels the same way but worse. 

He takes a deep, cleansing breath, and tries not to scream. “You’re the one who sorted the Pit problem out?”

“Uh, yep, that’s me.”

“Okay, great! Fantastic. Can you tell me what the Hell that whole deal was?”

What’s left of the maybe teenager’s face drops somewhat, and a gloved hand reaches up to rub at the back of what’s left of his neck. “Ha, right, yeah sorry.” He mumbles, and Constantine kind of feels bad, but he’s also still kind of suffering from the adrenaline high of meeting the guy yesterday, so he guesses they’re even now. 

“So, I mean, I don’t usually look like that? It is my true form or whatever, but I’m not really… I don’t hang about in it too often. Gives people the heebie jeebies, y’know? I don’t want to scare people out of nowhere, especially not for a first meeting! But I was about to go to sleep last night when you summoned me, and I wanted to shift my form a little just to be more formal about the whole thing, but I guess I let the whole thing go by accident, and I didn’t realise at all until I got home. And if I was in that form by accident- I usually go with ghostspeak during summonings ‘cause it’s easier in that way and there’s usually translation sigils embedded in the circle- but if I was in that form by accident, then I was probably using a different dialect to the one I thought I was, so if I sounded kind of off, then that’s why. Again, really sorry about that. This was totally not how I wanted my first impression with the Justice League to go. You’re all really cool, y’know? I wanted to get off on the right foot and not the ‘let’s fight each other’ foot.”

Constantine blinks, opens his mouth, closes his mouth, and then blinks again. He’s sure there’s a reasonable response to this that can be expressed in a sentence somewhere, but right now he’s too enamoured with how utterly absurd this is. He genuinely, honestly does not know what’s worse: that this kid can turn into that, or that he can turn into that and it’s so natural he doesn’t even notice. 

Still, as consistent as the sun sets, Batman’s the first one to break the stupor, interjecting with narrowed eyes. “How do we know you’re not a threat to us? We don’t even know who you are.”

“Uh,” The kid splutters. “I didn’t introduce myself. My name’s Danny.”

“Danny.” Batman replies flatly. 

“It’s a nice name!” Danny, apparently, defends, looking about as stupefied as someone can without eyes on their face. The dinky little crown drifts after him when he moves his head. “And, um, I don’t know how to prove I’m not a threat? I mean, I closed up that Lazarus Pit for you, if that counts as being helpful in a non-threatening way?”

If anything, Constantine would think that makes someone more threatening. “You said you wanted a favour for it, that you were going to ‘find your recompense’.”

“No I didn’t?” Danny says incredulously, before he pauses and his lips part in an O. “Right, translation error, duh. I uh, didn’t actually say that, that’s just how the sigils took it I think. You don’t owe me anything. It might be nice to get some help if I’m ever in a bind or something, but we didn’t make a deal or a pact or anything, you just asked for help, so I helped. 

His brain completely shuts down, blue-screen style. This isn’t how this type of thing goes. There’s no way this is that easy. “You seriously don’t want anything.” 

“I mean, an autograph might be nice. My friend thinks you and batman are cool.”

“You don’t think the rest of us are cool?” Flash complains, because that’s exactly what he’s supposed to be getting out of this conversation and not how utterly insane it is. 

Danny, the kid that’s going to be giving him nightmares and is already giving him migraines, has the audacity to look embarrassed. “I think you’re cool; obviously you’re all cool, you’re the Justice League! My friend’s just into the edgier members, I guess? She’s goth.”

“Oh? So who’s your favourite?” Why is no one acknowledging that the incomprehensible cosmic horror just called him edgy. Why are they just moving past this. 

“…Martian Manhunter and Green Lantern. I really like space.”

Yeah, no shit, he’s made of it. 

Constantine genuinely wants to pass out. He wants Batman to get him over the head with a batarang; he wants Superman to tap him on the forehead and give him a concussion, just- anything not to be here right now. This might not even be the weirdest thing that’s happened to him, but he’s hating every minute of it. This kid’s talking and existing like it’s nothing but even as the conversation begins to border on casual the atmosphere is still thick, nearly physical with the chill and the chiming of bells and the way something shifts every time those peacock feathers waver behind him. 

Right now, John really, truly does not care if this entity’s playing some kind of twisted long con to trick them into sacrificing their souls or something equally as horrifying. He just wants to go home and forget anything ever happened. “So, you’re not a malicious entity.” Constantine states finally, putting an end to any further back-and-forth that he’d managed to tune out. 

“I promise you I’m not.” Danny replies seriously, even as his features shift back to something more human-looking that only seems like it’s trying and failing to hide something bigger underneath it now. 

Constantine puts his hands in his pockets, and turns straight to the door. “Brilliant news. I’m leaving now. I hope we never have to see each other again.” The League and that kid can do whatever they want, but Constantine swears on everything he holds sacred that he’s not touching any of it with a ten-foot pole. He never wants to have to deal with anything like this again, and he is never agreeing to do Batman another favour. 

#sorry it's late!!! I've had a Weird™ few days #Also sorry if it reads a bit funky or anything I tried my best #I really want to do more for this au though so hopefully I'll be posting about it again in November after Ectober week!! #Maybe even for that DPxDC event!! #dp fic #dp fanfic #danny phantom fic #danny phantom fanfiction #dpxdc #ghost king danny #(Implied) #eldritch danny #danny phantom #john constantine #Bongo's Aus!!! #Bongo's Writing!!! #peacock au

[princessjojo-x]

Cancer Mars

💝 he takes a while to move on & get over things. he’s known for holding grudges due to his great memory.

💝 he values honesty & hates liars. he has strong intuition & he’s very observant.

💝 he has more feminine energy.

💝 he has a hard time dealing with conflict logically & rationally as he’s very emotional. when he’s angry he’ll say things in the heat of the moment which he’ll regret later on. he can be very passive aggressive too. the best way to piss him off during conflict is to stand your ground & not let him guilt trip you, showing him that his emotions don’t effect you.

💝 he’s emotionally intelligent meaning he knows how to persuade/manipulate others into doing what he wants.

💝 his highs & lows can be exhausting & nauseating for him & others.

💝 when he’s attracted to someone he comes off very nurturing (eg buy you chocolate or flowers). if he doesn’t come off as caring then he doesn’t care.

💝 he tends to put a lot of importance into aftercare & not receiving it can straight up ruin the experience for him.

💝 he is sexually passionate with deep & intense needs for emotional safety within a rxship. he’s likely to want sexual contact to reassure himself that he is wanted. although this need to be wanted extends beyond sex & will permeate their whole life. he may try to make himself indispenable to others so that he will never be abandoned. in sexual relationships, he needs to feel he belongs, protected & secure; he will in turn offer a sense of protection & containment to his partner.

💝 he has a habit of projecting his insecurities onto others.

💝 un-evolved cancer energy is self deprecation, victim mentality & still hung up on a toxic ex from ten years ago.

💝 he does not collaborate well with other cancer mars people.

Turn On’s:

💝 he needs plenty of validation & attention.

💝 he wants a sensitive & intuitive partner who can understand his complex emotional landscape. he likes emotional vulnerability & closeness.

💝 he likes slow & romantic build ups with nurturing gestures (soft music, heart-felt convo, home-cooked food, thoughtful gifts, bubble baths, forehead kisses, being held, cuddles)

💝 he will often mother his partner & want mothering himself.

💝 he loves anything to do with loyalty & binding - “i wanna take care of you”, “i want you to be happy” “give it to me”

💝 he likes eye contact (feeling seen, wanted & protected).

💝 breeding fetish (he likes the idea of making a baby).

💝 submission fantasies - he may like it when you’re a little aggressive or disapline him in bed as long as he knows you love him.

💝 known as the sign most attracted to breasts. the breasts/chest are his erogenous zone (stroke his chest, play with his nips) but remember his body is very sensitive so be gentle.

💝 he’s attracted to strong, tall & protective women with big breasts.

💝 he likes nymphomanics (a woman who has abnormally excessive & uncontrollable sexual desire).

💝 he may want it more when he can’t have it meaning he loves teasing & edging.

💝 all water mars love positions where they can see their partners face.

Turn Off’s:

💝 he dislikes his lover being too independent.

💝 he dislikes not being listened to.

Performance:

💝 he is a romantic, protective, soothing & sensual lover in bed. he can spend the whole day in bed with his partner. he loves turning cuddles, foreplay & sex into long sessions that seemingly have no end.

💝 he tends to treat sex as a very emotional/physical act rather than solely physical. sex & love go hand-in-hand for him. he needs an emotional connection to even consider sex with someone.

💝 he enjoys pleasing his partner & will do almost anything to do so.

💝 since he is emotional, he can have an explosive temper & release that anger during sex, making him sometimes very rough in bed.

💝 cancer is a deeply private sign & needs to feel safe before they reveal themself. nothing turns him off faster than a partner who comes on too strong or tries to push him into intimacy before he’s ready. he’s too sensitive & romantic to respond to a blunt sexual appeal. even in a long-term union, he prefers the indirect approach; he rarely comes right out & says he wants sex (all water sign mars may take more time & could be looking to emotionally connect before they sleep with you).

#astro notes #astrology #mars signs #cancer mars #astro observations

[devils-dares]

Give Up The World

summary: coming back home battered and bruised with a baby on the way makes matt rethink his nighttime activities.

pairing: matt murdock x fem!reader

warnings: canon typical injuries and blood, little bit of angst, whole lotta fluff

word count: 1200+

A/N: i was literally in the middle of writing for a celebration prompt when i had a brainstorming sesh with @galaxysgal and this idea came to life as soon as my fingers touched my keyboard. i'm pretty sure this was almost done in what i imagine was the first day of writing.

reblogs and comments are welcomed!

-----

You can hear the stairs groan under his weight, one boot step heavier than the other- he was limping… a lot. You cringe as he groans and whines down the rest of the stairs, making his way to you. He can hear your gasp when he comes into view, blood dripping from the bottom of his mask as he sways on his feet.

“I’m sorry,” are the first words out of his mouth.

“What happened?” You ask, tears welling up in your eyes.

“Ambush, I- ah!” He groans, grabbing his side.

“Should’ve seen it coming.” The words ring in your ears as he limps over to the table and sits on the chair.

“I should- let me- the kit.” You eek out, and he can tell you’re freaked.

“Angel-”

“I’m okay, just stay there.” You scurry off to the bathroom and he sighs, hearing your elevated heart rate accompanied by the smaller one that started in your tummy just a few days ago. He strips himself of his helmet and his top, leaving a wide array of bruises, scars, and slices on display. His side, the cut he was holding earlier, gushes dark crimson blood, a reminder of how brutal this job is.

He hears your breath leave you once again as you observe him on the chair, until your adrenaline kicks back in and shakes you away from shock. The feet that carry you to your husband leaving louder footsteps than usual, the extra weight in your tummy being something you have yet to get used to. Your fingers trace his face softly, brushing over a bruise that paints his cheek green and yellow, and he leans into your warm palm.

“Let’s get you cleaned up, yeah?” He nods and closes his eyes, readying himself for the stinging burn that comes along with rubbing alcohol. You press the rag to his cut skin and he inhales sharply through his teeth and grunts.

“I’m sorry, Matty. I’m trying my best to make it not hurt.”

“It’s okay, I know, you’re doing amazing.” The two of you fall silent after that, only the sound of Matt’s pained grunts permeating the suffocating quiet. Your heart rate rises every time Matt makes a noise, followed by a whisper of “I’m sorry,” or “I love you,” falling from your lips and his own heart breaks a little every time it slips out.

“I can’t…” He says, and it makes you pause.

“Matthew?”

“I quit, I retire, whatever you want to call it. I can’t be Daredevil anymore.”

“What are you saying?”

“I have the most important parts of my life in this room right now, and I’ll be damned if I get myself killed out there instead of taking care of the two of you.”

“A-are you sure? This is a big thing to just go cold turkey on.”

“I’ve never been more sure of anything in my life.”

In all fairness, he did go cold turkey and he stuck with it. He put all his efforts into house shopping, and all his aggression into the punching bags at Fogwell’s. Oftentimes he’d pause by the closet under the stairs that concealed the trunk that held his suit. You could tell he had an itching, a longing, to go back to his ways. His thumbs would begin tracing the scars on his knuckles from years of serving his penance, hands balled into fists, he’d twitch towards the hiding spot until his ears fell on you. On your growing baby and the small heartbeat that lay within your tummy. He’d remind himself of what lay ahead, what he quit for, why he continues to stay away.

You could tell it’d weigh heavy on his mind, flashes of aggression would show through, and he tried his best to channel it to more productive things, but with disagreements you could see it bleed through. His nostrils flared, his eyes went wide, his voice would drop an octave and suddenly you’d realize how exactly he instilled so much fear into his enemies. He’d always apologize as soon as he did it, though, it still hurt to know that he could unleash just a glimpse of unbridled fury against you.

It weighed heavily on your marriage, there were days where he’d stay up all night, listening to the sirens and knowing that he couldn’t do anything about it, just to be angry and irritable all day. You swore you’d never leave him though, and it paid off. After months of sitting in that darkness all alone, he let you in. He told you of all his intrusive thoughts, how he felt about anything and everything, what made him happy and what made him tick and why he couldn’t be near you on certain nights. It made sense, the way he explained it, why he did the things he does. It must’ve been a coincidence, but the second he shed a tear, your child kicked for the first time.

You gasped and grabbed his hand, placing it towards the side of your belly. He looks quizzically until he feels it, and the tears come quicker when he realizes.

“Oh-” He chokes up on his words.

“This. This is what we do everything for. This is ours, Matt, don’t you realize? I will never leave you for acting the way you do, I get it. But we have bigger priorities now.” He nods and laughs as he feels another kick, harder this time.

“Looks like you’ll be dealing with a mini-me.” He laughs.

“Unfortunately.”

-----

“Mommy, why does daddy have lines over here?” She points to his chest while laying on him. The three of you were laying in bed in the early morning, light shining through the windows of your Astoria home. Your four year old daughter, bless her soul, was the most curious kid on the block. She could smell your’s and Matt’s bullshit from a mile away when you wanted to appease her, and kept pushing until she got a real answer, or at least a high effort answer.

“So bumpy,” she observes, running her hand over his scars, “what is it?”

“It’s something… daddy always had.” Matt answers, and she tuts.

“Wrong, mommy, your turn.” Matt laughs at that.

“Lawyer’s daughter,” you huff, Matt’s laugh now shaking the bed, “well, baby, before you were born, daddy was a really good guy. He used to go out and save the world, every night! Sometimes, though, he’d get a little hurt, and mommy would have to fix his booboos-”

“Did you kiss em like mine?” She asks.

“No, sweetheart, that’s only for you.”

“Mommy likes me more!” She squeals at Matt.

“Anyways, sometimes when they healed, they left little bumps, or scars. It just shows how much daddy loved his city, and how he gave it away to love you now.”

“Thank you, daddy.” She buries her head in his shoulder and he holds her tight.

“I’d give up anything for you, bug, but you gotta give mommy the credit. I was hard to be around.” She looks up at you and tugs you into their cuddle pile.

Soon enough, she falls asleep, her puffs of air hitting Matt’s cheek as she lay on his shoulder.

“Thank you.” He mumbles sleepily.

“For what?”

“For staying with me, for giving her to me, for having faith in me when I was at my lowest.”

“I watched a building drop on you, I’m not letting you go over a few hissy fits.” He laughed at your attempt to lighten the mood.

“I know. I love you.”

“I love you too.” You yawn out, and Matt stays awake to listen to his girls’ heartbeats while they sleep peacefully.

#matt murdock #matt murdock fluff #matt murdock fanfic #matt murdock angst #dad!matt murdock #matt murdock x reader #matt murdock x you #matt murdock x fem!reader #matt murdock x female reader #matt murdock x wife!reader #matt murdock x pregnant!reader #daredevil #daredevil fluff #daredevil fanfic #daredevil angst #dad!daredevil #daredevil x reader #daredevil x you #daredevil x fem!reader #daredevil x female reader #daredevil x wife!reader #daredevil x pregnant!reader #marvel #marvel fluff #marvel angst #marvel x reader #marvel x you #marvel x fem!reader #marvel x female reader #husband!matt murdock

[raven-at-the-writing-desk]

Do you have any headcanons or anything of the sort regarding Precipice Moirai/PreMo? I'd like to hear what your thoughts are about them!

I don't think about Premo a ton (for people who are confused, this is Idia's favorite idol group), but here's how I personally picture them:

They're sisters.

They look youngish (or "ageless") but they're actually a bazillion years old. Don't ask them about how old they are or they'll give you that smile that doesn't fully reach their eyes.

Because they're so old, they've seen sooo much and are thus easily bored. They live for listening in on drama and scandals because those can get so absurd it provides some fleeting entertainment to them.

In interviews and talk shows, they drop very archaic, outdated jokes and have refined manners of speaking. It's an odd mix of how your grandma might talk combined with modern anachronisms (slang). It's very "how do you do, fellow kids" energy.

They get along in public, but they constantly bicker and act overly competitive in private (usually over borrowed items).

They came up with a really complicated and dark “anime-esque” backstory for how their group got together. No one knows if the backstory is really true or if it’s something their marketing team came up with as part of their “lore”.

In some interpretations, the Fates are specified as Clotho (who spins the threads of fate with her spindle), Lachesis (who measures the threads of fate using a measuring tape), and Atropos (who cuts the threads of fate using shears). In other interpretations, Clotho, Lachesis, and Atropos represent past, present, and future respectively.

I think of each girl as being representative of one place in time. For example, the Fate representative of the present may be a carefree party goer who wants to "live in the moment", without thinking much of the consequences (the future) or her previous mistakes (the past).

I see Premo banking on these themes as motifs or image items for the corresponding idol girl (so one represents the past with her spindle, one represents the present with her measuring tape, etc.). I also headcanon that the idols have their own merch and fandom hand signals which make reference to each Fate's respective task. For example, there may be scissors on a Premo T-shirt or a scissor-like hand shape or cutting motion made to signal that you stan "Atropos" of the Fates.

Eyes are a prominent motif and are more universally associated with the group as a whole rather than an individual member. (This is because the Fates were fighting over a single eyeball in Disney's Hercules.)

It’s implied that the girls wear black, but I headcanon that most of their outfits are monochromatic, save for like maybe a few colorful accessories.

It would be cool if they also incorporated elements of Japanese mythology into their group's theme. More specifically, I love the idea of the three girls wearing a red ribbon or some slash of red on their outfits each time they perform. This would be a reference to the "red thread of fate" which permeates many east Asian cultures. It is said that this "thread of fate" connects you to someone you are destined to meet someday, someone who will change your life in some significant way. Typically this means romantically (which would fit in the culture of Japan promoting idols as "pure" and "avaliable" to their fans), but it can also be interpreted platonically. I think this makes a lot of sense given that the Fates are marketed as "three girls bound by Fate".

They blend traditional dance and attire with modern practices. It's very important to them to retain their history and culture, as well as to share it with a new generation so that they are preserved for the future.

They partner up/collaborate with organizations and programs that seek to educate others about history, such as museums and restoration projects. Again, this is because Premo truly cares about preserving history and teaching it to others.

#twst #twisted wonderland #Idia Shroud #twst headcanons #twisted wonderland headcanons #disney twisted wonderland #disney twst #Premo #notes from the writing raven #question #Precipice Moirai #curiouser and curiouser

[limehaspassed]

▬▭▬▭▬▭▬▭▬▭▬▭▬▭▬▭▬▭▬▭▬▭▬▭▬▭▬▭▬▭▬▭▬▭▬▭▬▭▬

Thomas Hewitt Sleep

Imagines

A compilation of different ideas I have for Tommy falling asleep with you. <3

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

He’s a cuddle-bug. At night, when the stars sing and the moon hums, Tommy likes to wrap you up in his arms, holding you close after a hard day’s work. He’ll press his nose in your hair, smelling the same smell that had grounded him many nights before. He enjoys the warmth that permeates from your, engulfing him a blanket of comfort. Holding you close is one of his favorite activities, an activity you allow him to participate in anytime he wants.

Although Thomas enjoys cuddles, at the beginning of your relationship, he did not. He had never been held like the way you held him, never been touched like the way you touched him, not even once before. During that first month, he tried his best to keep his hands to himself, afraid that if he was to show too much affection it would scare you off. Even thought the two of you had agreed to be in a relationship, Thomas felt as if you didn’t mean it, as if the whole thing would come crashing down on him as one big joke. However, as time passed and he warmed up to the idea of showing affection, Thomas began to outwardly show his love more, especially at night as the two of you were falling asleep.

On nights where its too hot to cuddle, Thomas likes to hold your hand. Ever since he’s grown comfortable to showing affection, he constantly needs to be touching you in order to make sure you’re really there. You’re very essence is a grounding source for him. So, at night even when it’s hot, Tommy likes to hold your hand. When he wakes up, he’ll take your hand and press it against his lips, kissing all the way up your arm until you wake up.

On nights that its cold, Tommy likes to smother you, or what you consider smothering considering the fact there isn’t an inch of your body left exposed except your face. You don’t mind him smothering you, his body holds a lot of heat and he practically becomes a whole heating system at night. Compared to the cold, Tommy is like the sun, always blazing hot and perfect to snuggle up close too on winter nights. He’ll wrap his arms around your waist and intertwine his legs with yours, his stomach pressed against your. His head would lay above yours, gentle snore tickling your ears. Every part of you was so close to him on those nights, you wished you could stay there for ever, a concept Tommy also dreamed about as well.

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

Thats all for now. I might add more onto this later. I haven’t decided yet.

▬▭▬▭▬▭▬▭▬▭▬▭▬▭▬▭▬▭▬▭▬▭▬▭▬▭▬▭▬▭▬▭▬▭▬▭▬▭▬

#thomas hewitt #fluff #texas chainsaw massacre #texas chainsaw the beginning #thomas hewitt x reader #thomas hewitt x you #imagine #headcannons #slashers

[ughgoaway]

gingerbread house // day 6

content warnings; swearing, cringy writing and like one tiny smutty reference but not really?

a/n; It's finished! ... i think that's all my brain can type rn considering how long it took me to write this <3 (jk anyway thank you so much to the anon who gave me this idea, this fic would not exist without you- so thanks again my love!!)

word count; 2.2k

(this fic takes place after they're together)

12 days masterlist

✿❀✿✿❀✿✿❀✿✿❀✿✿❀✿✿❀✿✿❀✿✿❀✿

“Shit, shit, shit” The smell of smoke permeates the air around him as Matty comes running into the kitchen. He grabs his tea towel and swats the air furiously. The oven door swings open and matty is met with another plume of smoke.

Any vision he had was gone in an instant as the heat of the oven fogged up his glasses, leaving him blindly trying to grab the tray. Which might be ideal considering the sight of the gingerbread he had attempted to make.

He hears the muffled sound of your laughter through the phone and grins to himself as he pulls the burnt gingerbread out of the oven. It is definitely beyond saving. Matty had forgotten in his mad rush that he was on Facetime with you and knew he was about to get ridiculed. 

He picks up his phone with a sigh and is met with a wide smile from you, and the look mischief spread all over your face. The corner of your eyes was crinkling in the way that was reserved just for him. He yearned to thumb it over and press a kiss to your temple. But much to his dismay, you were miles away tucked up in your flat.

Matty had yet to visit your place, so every time he was on Facetime with you, he tried his best to scope out what it looked like. You always insisted you got to his, saying it was nicer and bigger. But Matty wanted nothing more than to see how you live.

He’d seen your green sofa with a knit blanket over the back when he called you last week to see when you were coming over. When he asked you about it, you shyly admitted to knitting it yourself, and for some reason, that made matty fall even harder

He had also caught a glimpse of the photos framed on your mantle when you called him to ask him how to set up your new TV. He was no help. if anything, he was more of a hindrance, but you stayed chatting to him the whole time anyway.

He specifically remembers the small glimpse of your bedroom he got.

It was 3 am. when his phone rudely awakened him. Groggily, he answered the phone with a scrunched face, “hello”

“Matty it's snowing!! Look!!” Your excited voice shook Matty awake. A blanket of snow sat over the trees, and the grass. Snowflakes continuing to fall only added to the winter wonderland on his screen. He scrambled out of his own bed over to his window and was met with the same sight. 

The small tree in his courtyard was delicately decorated with snowflakes, and the windows surrounding it were frosted already. The cold air rushed in as Matty opened his window, but he couldn't care less, immediately sticking his head out and bringing the phone with him, showing you the sky as he did. 

“So pretty,” you say softly, flicking your eyes between your screen and the view in front of you.

Matty wished the camera was on your face rather than your view. He wanted to see your wonderstruck eyes as they danced over the snow. He wanted to see your nose getting red as the cold air surrounded you. 

He eventually got his wish when you went back to bed, and he was met with the sight of your beautiful face surrounded in a cocoon of pillows and blankets. Your cheeks and nose were pink like he had thought, but he took an extra second to admire the light snowflakes that sat on the tips of your eyelashes. 

It's then he notices what's beside you, “is that a stuffed bunny?” he asks teasingly. Your eyes widen, and you shift the camera slightly, obsuring the bunny from the matty's screen. but it's then when he catches a clearer view of the floral sheets that adorn your bed as well as the Beatrix potter print that hung above your head. 

“No…” came your unconvincing reply a few seconds later, after a beat both you and Matty began giggling like schoolchildren. Clearly enamoured with each other, and both wishing you could feel this forever. 

But it was late, and you had work in 4 hours. you can't say you were looking forward to being surrounded by excitable 5 year olds.

So with heavy eyes, you waved Matty goodbye, trying your best not to let your eyes wander over his bare chest.

You failed. And prayed Matty hadn't noticed. Of course, he had, but he was kind enough not to tease you.

So when Matty saw that same look of joy in your eyes at him burning the gingerbread, he knew what was coming. 

“Don't even start-” Matty says, sighing at you over Facetime. He rolls his eyes, but you can see the smile fighting to take over his face. 

You held one hand up in mock surrender and dropped your jaw, “Hey! I didn't say anything” You tilt your head condescendingly and flash Matty a sickly sweet smile.

Never has he wanted to kiss the smile off of someone's face more.

“I know what you were gonna say, “Oooh don't you wish you had your baker girlfriend over there helping you”” Matty spoke high pitched in a poor attempt to imitate you.

“Well, don't you wish I was there?” You tease.

You can see Matty bristle up and try and prepare a snarky retort. But his resolve quickly crumbles, and he whines out, “Yes I do. Pleaseeeee come help your poor boyfriend bake”

You giggle and coo at his pouty face but don’t offer any help. Instead, you decide to pull Matty up on what he had unknowingly said, “Boyfriend and girlfriend, huh? Is that what we are?”

You smile bashfully at Matty, who immediately gets a frightened look on his face, like a deer in headlights.

“Well I mean- yeah- but like- I thought yes, but we don't have to be-” his stuttered reply made your heart warm.

Part of you was worried he wouldn't get nervous around you now you're dating, but you were happy to see you can still make Matty Healy blush. Nothing boosted your ego more than making the man with infallible confidence stumble over his words.

“Rockstar Matty Healy becomes a bumbling mess when the girl he's seeing teases him” would make quite the Daily Mail article you think. 

Deciding you are not quite done, you push Matty that small bit closer to a full-blown freak-out, “oh you thought we were? I don't remember being asked to be a girlfriend? Or did I miss that?...” You pout and tap your finger on your chin pensively, trying to get a rise out of Matty.

He sighs before slightly rolling his eyes, but his bright smile tells you everything you need to know, “I suppose I didn't ask,” Matty clears his throat and straightens up, “y/n, will you please be my girlfriend?” his soft eyes bore into yours, and you can see the slight uncertainty swirling in them.

Despite knowing you would say yes, Matty was still fucking terrified. If you said no this might be the most embarrassing moment of his life.

And he's fallen in front of hundreds of thousands of people… many times… almost too many times...

You hum in thought but can't help the massive grin that overtakes your cheeks at Matty's puppy dog eyes, “yes Matthew, I will be your girlfriend” 

Matty's face lights up, and you can almost see the weight lift off his chest as he breathes deeply. Just as you go to poke fun at Matty again, a small voice comes through the phone. 

“Daddyyyyy get off the phone” Annie whines, coming into the kitchen with her signature pout. She's dressed in her new tartan dress that she refuses to take off. 

Denise had bought it for her to wear on Christmas day, but as soon as Annie caught a glimpse of the dress, she became obsessed. Matty had to do a special load of laundry every day just so she could wear it over and over.

It was a relatively simple dress, crushed black velvet made up the bodice of and was separated from the skirt with a big faux rose and thick band of red ribbon. The bottom half was a massive skirt made up of red tartan fabric.

annie loved nothing more than twirling around and around in the dress, watching the skirt flow out around her. So Matty had been subjected to sitting and watching his daughter spin about 27 times in the past few weeks, but the pure joy on her face made any time spent with her worth it.

Both you and Matty shoot each other a frightened look before swiftly hanging up. Matty immediately doted on Annie and explained that he just needed to make one more batch before they could start their house.

You on the other hand were lying flat on your sofa staring at the ceiling, before turning to scream into a pillow. 

You had a boyfriend. A hot, dilf boyfriend…

Whose daughter may have just found out you're dating, and that simple fact might make you lose your job.

Shit. 

…worth it though.

///////////

It had been 2 hours since the near miss with Annie, and Matty was 90% sure you were in the clear. Annie hadn't said anything suspicious, and she's not known for her ability to keep quiet. 

Hed managed to placate her with some chocolate biscuits and put on home alone for the 5th time that week as he finished off the replacement gingerbread. And not to toot his own horn, but it turned out pretty fucking good.

For someone who has only ever baked when stoned and burnt it every time, Matty was very proud. He sent you a photo of all the pieces and was over the moon when your reponse was nothing but praise. He tried to ignore the flurry of butterflies that erupted in his stomach at your words.

God, falling in love was not for the weak.

Just as Matty thought he was going to get away scott free, Annie chimed in and completely shattered any confidence he had.

“We should add a miss y/n gingerbread daddy,” Annie says innocently grabbing a fresh gingerbread man and placing it in front of her, she picked up the icing and began crafting you in gingerbread form.

He almost felt his eyes bulge out of his head at his daughter's words. Matty fought to act casual, but he couldn't help the way his words broke when he spoke to her.

“Wh- why would we do that peanut? I thought this was a family gingerbread house” he coughed as he finished, the words feeling heavy in this throat.

Annie was oblivious to the waver in Matty's voice and answered in the simple way only a child could, “Miss Y/n is nice, she deserves to have a gingerbread man too!"

Annie nods assuredly as she speaks, adding the hair made of strawberry laces to the figure in front of her. Her tongue was poking out the corner of her mouth as she focused on placing each strand, clearly treating this as her pièce de résistance.

Icing sugar was sprinkled throughout her curls, and smudges of icing were on her face. Annie's tongue was tinged blue from the sweets she had been sneaking as they decorated, sugar granules speckled her lips also.

After a deep breath, Matty managed to regulate himself before he answered, assured that Annie had no idea about him and you being together. “That's a nice idea, sweetheart. She can stand next to Auntie Charli.”

Matty knows it's ridiculous, but for some reason, the idea of your gingerbread men standing together makes his heart flutter. and he's not so sure he could play it cool around Annie when it did.

jesus, what have you done to him? He's getting giddy at the idea of biscuits standing near each other.

Annie narrows her eyes suspiciously at Matty, and he almost thinks he has been caught. But thankfully, she perks up and says, “Okay!” without a hint of questioning in her voice.

/////////

It's 9 pm once Matty finally gets Annie settled in bed. Clearly, the numerous sweets she snuck had enough sugar in them to have her bouncing off the walls for the rest of the night. It was only after the 3rd book when Annie's eyes began to get heavy, and soft snores left her lips.

Matty took a photo of the gingerbread house in front of him, smiling down at the image on his phone. Maybe you all really could be a family. 

“Annie insisted on adding you to our gingerbread house” is the caption Matty added to the photo before sending it to you, it seemed he had forgotten about his freak out earlier and was just giddy about getting to include you.

“Ohmygod. Does she know??” came your quick reply, clearly freaking out about being found out.

“From what I can tell she has no idea, i think she just loves you”

Matty has to fight the urge to type “I think she just loves you like I do”, not wanting to scare you off 2 weeks into dating him. He moved fast, but not that fast. 

“Oh, she's so sweet. You better not eat me”

Before Matty can type the dirty response he had in his head, a follow-up text comes from you.

“NO NOT LIKE THAT MATTHEW. I KNOW WHAT YOU'RE THINKING” Matty laughs out loud at your quick response, loving how well you knew him already.

“;)” is the eloquent response Matty decides on.

"you're such a twat" you type, ignoring the love sick smirk on your face.

#christmas75 #matty healy #matty healy fanfiction #matty healy fic #matty healy fluff #matty healy x you #matty healy x reader #the 1975 fic #teacher au! #its... certainly something!! #there are indeed words on a page. #will this stay up? hmm only time will tell...

[hlupdate]

W​​hat’s the secret to a great portrait? At 86 years old, David Hockney has a few ideas. A lifetime of looking has taught him to always start with the face. “I begin with the head first,” he says, matter-of-factly, from his home in France. “From there, I place everything else.”

That was his approach when, late last May, Harry Styles traveled to his light-filled studio in Normandy and stationed himself on a cane chair, ready to become the esteemed artist’s latest subject. Over two days, Hockney worked to capture the exact hues of red and yellow in Styles’s striped cardigan, the indigo of his jeans, the string of pearls at his neck—not to mention the unmistakable tousled fringe of one of the world’s biggest pop stars. For the artist, though, the goal was merely to capture the essence of the person in front of him. “I wasn’t really aware of his celebrity then,” Hockney says, with a shrug. “He was just another person who came to the studio.”

The pair struck up an instant rapport that was likely helped by Styles being a full-on fanboy. For his Vogue cover shoot in 2020, Styles wore a pair of hand-painted Bode cords that featured a talismanic illustration of Hockney by artist Aayushia Khowala. It’s also hard to imagine the wide-eyed wonder of a flamboyant Brit discovering the sunny thrills and spills of California—a theme, and sound, that has permeated the former One Direction singer’s solo albums—without Hockney as a precedent. “David Hockney has been reinventing the way we look at the world for decades,” says Styles. “It was a complete privilege to be painted by him.”

The unveiling of the portrait kicks off the second iteration of the National Portrait Gallery’s Hockney exhibition “Drawing From Life,” which first opened in February 2020, only to close weeks later due to the pandemic. With the addition of a new room of pictures charting Hockney’s creative impulses throughout lockdown, the show returns on November 2—a few months after a refurbishment of the entire museum—with Styles’s portrait as its crown jewel. “The whole world shut down, and the exhibition was still sitting there, in the dark,” recalls Sarah Howgate, the gallery’s senior curator of contemporary collections, who oversaw the exhibition in both phases. “So it’s nice to know it will have another life.”

The Styles painting may bring star wattage, but the unassuming genius of Hockney’s portraiture is still the main exhibition draw. What makes his images tick, you quickly learn, is their honesty: whether in the tension bubbling beneath the surface of his famed double portrait of Ossie Clark and Celia Birtwell, painted between 1970 and ’71, or the seated figures that populated his 2016 Royal Academy of Arts exhibition, which included the likes of his own sister, Margaret, and the late comedian Barry Humphries. Hockney’s eye for the human figure may be playful, often kaleidoscopic, sometimes fantastical—but it’s always, most importantly, frank.

Styles’s portrait will hang alongside those of writer Gregory Evans, Hockney’s printer Maurice Payne, the mayor of his local town Dozulé, his gardener, and even his chiropodist, or in Hockney’s words, “the dandy who cuts my toenails.”

One of his more recent subjects was the eminent music producer Clive Davis, who first suggested inviting Styles to swing by. “Clive told me about Harry’s new album, and JP [Hockney’s studio assistant] sent Harry a note and asked him if he’d like to come to my studio and sit for his portrait,” Hockney remembers. “He replied straight away and said, yes, he’d love to.” From there, Hockney’s process of painting Styles was instinctive. “Everybody just came to sit,” he says, breezily, before admitting: “Now I know Harry’s a celebrity, though: I’ve seen all his music videos.”

“He’s not a traditional portrait painter,” says Howgate. Hockney’s interest is not in what people do, but rather in who they are. “He’s not interested in fame. He’s interested in depicting people and their relationships.” It’s why his eye is primarily trained on his inner circle these days—but it also pays testament to his enduring curiosity that he’s still willing to open that up to a newcomer every so often. Styles seems to know how lucky he is, adding, with a tinge of disbelief: “I’m in awe of the man with enough one-liners for a lifetime.” As to what those one-liners might be? Styles and Hockney’s mutual silence on that question suggests that what happens in the studio, stays in the studio.

“David Hockney: Drawing From Life” will be at the National Portrait Gallery from November 2 to January 21, 2024.

#harry styles #articles #020823

[kaiowut99]

A Special Announcement~ | Yu-Gi-Oh! ARC-V Tag Force Special Re-Translation Project!

I've been itching to get around to posting about this for a few months now, but wanted to wait until I'd worked on enough for it, but also had the idea to create an announcement trailer to go with it for added good measure--after recording and editing clips for a couple weeks and leveling the audio last night, heremst we are! (For some clips, I forgot to turn off the PPSSPP emulator's DevMenu option so that shows up in the top-left, buuut I didn't feel like re-recording those, lmao.)

Details worth reading below the cut here, but tl;dr work has been in progress for over a year in between things, work will continue to be in progress for a while, and the release will happen when everything's ready, but stay tuned, fun's getting started etc etc~

So, I'm sure most of us are familiar with the as-yet-unlocalized-by-Konami TFSP, the seventh and last entry in the Tag Force series on the PSP that came out early in ARC-V's run (featuring the first five series which was a cool first), as well as the current translations out there originally worked on by the guys at XenoTranslations (omarrrio and ScrewTheRules/ClickClaxer01 at GBATemp handling the card and story/etc translations, respectively) and how there are... some issues with what's out there. Everything from the DM story mode being loaded with YGOTAS references (no shade to YGOTAS and much respect to LK/Martin for his ongoing work on it still making me laugh sometimes, ofc) to the off-the-cuff edginess of 2014-2015-era internet culture and the problematic (in some cases, derogatory) language that permeated it--though to its credit, some parts do have some level of translation attempted, but taken as a whole, it can definitely turn people off from giving the game a try and seeing what it brings to the table (which is still a good amount despite the corners Konami cut here/there compared to prior TF games).

I actually did attempt a translation of my own back in 2015 (if you've been following me for a long time, you might remember it lol), tackling the GX story text starting with Judai's heart events, but eventually put it on the backburner as I focused more on my GX subbing work and beginning to finalize everything (which I'm still doing). Sometime in 2022, a friend over on NeoArkCradle (the "anonymous YGO fan" in the opening screen) was poring over the story text and patching it up the best he could to remove the references and inaccuracies with more coherent work, and after a while of seeing what he was working with in the Discord, I was a bit blown away by just how inaccurate much of it was--so alongside him, and using the better tools available since then (including some really awesome work from both nzxth2 [who did a proper re-translation of 5D's TF6 not too long ago and was kind enough to release his tools for it] and our coding helper Xan1242 who we eventually reached out to for some help), I decided to *cracks knuckles* get involved and help give everything a more accurate and professional translation, much like I do with my GX subs, working directly off the Japanese text and files. I've been taking cracks at everything in between the GX episodes I've been finalizing going back to at least last January (and I'd used my little hiatus after finalizing GX Season 2's subs to really get at some other stuff throughout the game), starting with re-translating DM's story text but also properly translating other aspects of the game, from the character names (using the original Japanese names, including those of the TF-exclusive characters, partly since Konami made a whole mess of them in English TF1-5), in-duel dialogue, pack descriptions, and more to images with Japanese text (such as localizing the in-duel cut-in onomatopoeia as you see in the video above, or other little images throughout) using some Photoshop skills I've picked up. And it's been a joint effort, as said NAC friend and I have been bouncing off how we'd like to see this go between us to stay on the same page and all, while also checking with other translators there for second/third opinions as needed.

Our plan is to release two versions of a translation--one which uses the OCG [translated] card names in Story Mode, in-duel, and other text but not in the game's card system (mainly to deal with story-relevant notes like Osiris vs Slifer with the Gods or things like not-Utopia Hope being symbolic between Yuma and Astral, akin to how I do my GX subs), and one which uses the TCG card names in everything (like how the official subs go about it). While we're mostly working with the Japanese game files due to how the Xeno team went about decoding everything, we'll be using the card-system-related files from the fixed ISO provided by FLSGaming which fixed some issues that had been present there. And Xan has helped us with a plugin that will be used to apply our translations to the system files that were hard to edit otherwise (things like the character and recipe names, as well as the pack names pulled from for the Card Description screen), but more on how that'll work once this is ready for release, lol. At some point, I'd like to also look at HDifying textures and things, but that's definitely a bonus-level thing for after the main work here is done.

SO.

Currently, Story-Mode-wise, I've gone through everything up to Yusei's events--so Dark Yugi/Kaiba/Jounouchi/Ishizu/Mai in DM, Judai/Manjoume/Asuka/Misawa/Ryou in GX, and Yusei in 5D's have been fully retranslated, though I took initial cracks at Yuma and Yuya's events to get content for this video lol (I've also been intentionally holding off on as much ZEXAL as I can until I've properly watched the whole show so I have context). I haven't tackled overworld text yet, though (like pre-duel or the tournament-related text, which is all in the same file as all the story text). I've also been handling the in-duel dialogue as I go through the character stories, so also just up to Yusei, though I did take initial cracks at Aki's, Yuma and Shark's, and Yuya and Yuzu's for the video.

Other things tackled that were sprinkled into the video, along with some other notes:

Pack names and descriptions have been retranslated, though the descriptions may see minor edits closer to release for a little variety between worlds given the different characters at the shop. Character recipe names were also retranslated, with Yugipedia's translations for them used as an occasional second opinion, though ones based on pack names had to be abbreviated in spots.

Menu text, from the Options to Help screens and stuff in between, has been retranslated, as have in-duel text strings (so, you'll see a full "Activate Effect" instead of "Activate" or "Switch to Attack/Defense Position" instead of "Switch to ATK/DEF Position", etc--also fixed the "BATTELE PHASE" graphic typo, and NAC friend created a new translation for the "Turn Change" graphic for accuracy since ENG TF1-5 made that into "Next Player's Turn").

Database stuff, such as the Sound Test, Tutorials, Duel Missions, etc., have been retranslated closer to the Japanese text; originally I retranslated the Tutorial text via hex editor, with compromises done on quite a bit of it due to the space limits, but as Xan recently updated a text extractor tool of theirs to more cleanly pull out and reinsert that text, I've been going through and fleshing out those translations more (on my commutes to/from work mostly, to be productive lol).

As mentioned, I've been localizing/translating Japanese-text images throughout the game as I come across them, like with the in-duel onomatopoeia that come up during cut-ins or images in the shop/duel/etc screens using Japanese text, to make sure the game is fully translated.

The series logos, used during the title sequence and in the Series Select screens, were updated with translated fan edits shared on Deviantart (which we'll credit in the final release) for DM and GX, while the 5D's-ARC-V logos were edited to enlarge the "Yu-Gi-Oh!" text on them that was pretty hard to see originally.

The game's original opening sequence starts on an anti-piracy message before going into the Konami logo and then a "From Yu-Gi-Oh!..." screen before the opening animation for each series logo--the original team decided to use the first image to vent their frustration at Konami for not localizing this game, and while that's valid (to some extent), we thought we'd use the opportunity to dedicate this project to Kazuki Takahashi for inspiring our love for YGO and the place it's had in our hearts for all these years.

We'll be updating the names of cards that had TCG releases after the original patch was worked on/updated by FLSG to those corresponding names.

Xan has been working on many UI fixes for us to apply with this, among them 3-line dialogue box text as is used in the ENG TF1-5 games--once implemented for TFSP, I'll be going over everything to make full use of that extra space where needed, so things might not look as they do in the video by then.

Character bios will be worked on after I've done the story stuff, though I've taken initial cracks at it for Yuma and Yuya's bios for the video, along with translating the location/affiliation names ("Domino High School," "Satellite," etc).

Currently no release date is planned, as I'm working on this between my GX-finalizing work and actual IRL work, though we'll see how later this year looks as more work gets done--but as noted in the video, all things being equal, it will be released when everything is ready. I'll try to post regular updates or rambles now that this announcement's been made, lol, but do try not to constantly check in on a release date. 🙏🏽

All that said, I think that covers just about everything I wanted to put out there with this, lol. It's been fun to work on this so far and getting to see what I've re-translated in-game is definitely neat; looking forward to us being able to release everything when ready.

Stay tuned for more; the fun's just getting started!

#yugioh #ygo #yugioh dm #GX #yugioh gx #5D's #yugioh 5ds #yugioh 5d's #ZEXAL #yugioh zexal #yugioh arc v #arc v #tag force #tag force special #tfsp #ygo tfsp #ygo tag force #yugioh tag force #my work #tfsp retranslation #project rambling #[dunno who might've caught onto my slight hinting at this in some of my GX release posts lol but hey] #also you'd be surprised at how much text is recycled from the earlier TFs and TFSP that goes unused #maybe they planned to add more and didn't but who's to say #was also a shame they cut the unique field animations but may look into seeing if it's possible to restore 'em #but woot glad to put this out there lol

[ashessonfire]

if you’re still looking for headcanon requests: what about kaz and reader who is disabled/suffers from chronic pain? i don’t often see x reader fics include things like disabilities, and it’s really quite nice to have found a character like kaz whose struggles i can relate to - ty <33

Kaz Brekker x (Chronically ill) Reader - Headcanons <3

- Paring : Kaz Brekker x Chronically ill! Reader A/N - Thank you so much for this request, and absolutely this is important, and i suffer from multiple chronic illnesses and pains too! I am basing it off my own experiences, which is chronic illness, but i hope it's general enough for anyone to relate to :) ════ ∘◦ᵒ 𓅓 ᵒ◦∘ ════

Kaz Brekker's image is one that permeates throughout the whole city, not a soul is unaware of the leader of the Crows

His limp only adds to the terrifying image, broken and twisted in every element of his being, yet completely unrelenting.

However, privately, his leg causes Kaz excruciating pain, a constant ache that never seems to cease, fatigue from stumbling around for too long, or the cold inducing agonizing flares of pain.

As a result, Kaz has become familiar with the aches and troubles, so when his partner reveals they experience something similar? Kaz suffers from a great mixture of hurt and relief

Why is he relieved you may ask?

Well, the bastard of the barrel can finally offer someone a sense of comfort and support, which in most things he finds practically impossible to do.

Sharing the experience with Kaz would offer the both of you solace, although at first it may come across as if he doesn't notice your constant pain.

However, very swiftly small pots of expensive medicines would arrive neatly wrapped on your bed, his cane would conveniently be placed close by during a flare up, and your favourite foods would mysteriously make their way to you, helping to brighten the tougher days.

Kaz is not a man of words, at all, however he would work on verbalizing his concerns, reading you easily and offering clipped but gentle check in's, like :

"How is the pain compared to yesterday?"

"I'm not going out soon, take my cane just in case"

"The painkillers are already in your drawer, I had Inej replace them this morning"

In terms of severe pain, both chronic + caused by a disability, please expect to never move a muscle - he will 100% get someone else to run around and do everything for you, especially when he himself is struggling.

If you care for him in return, you may even get a few faint smiles - he would be so deeply grateful for your attentiveness and devotion (but obviously it's Kaz, he won't show it freely)

Another reason i believe Kaz would be relieved, is that someone would finally understand his own disability and pains

You would be able to return his gestures, offering him the same sense of security and compassion, without overbearing sympathy or pity - something Kaz detests

Just after he broke his leg, I can vividly picture the pigeons of the barrel dramatically cooing at the young boys limp, explaining their sorrows for him with overwhelming pity

After this, he would undoubtedly threaten any sorrow for his condition with an excruciating death

Let's just say word spread quickly, and few dared to repeat this offence...

Kaz would also have little diaries tucked away in his office and at the slat, detailing each symptom of yours during flare ups - allowing him to prepare anything you could possibly need when the next one arrives

Kaz would feel more at ease with you than anyone else, and would likely share his own hardships with you - knowing that the pair of you can relate on a level few others could match

Honestly i just know that he would be in a strange way very relieved for you to understand his own struggles - allowing for him to be more comfortable with you overall <3

════ ∘◦ᵒ 𓅓 ᵒ◦∘ ════

P.S : As a chronically ill person myself, I just wanted to say that my requests will always be open for ideas like this, and my private messages are open for anything. If anyone is experiencing any form of chronic illness and needs someone to talk to, I am here for you!! It can be super isolating and difficult, especially when those around you cannot understand your struggles, even if they try to. Hopefully this post can find all my spoonie crow fans!! <333

#kaz brekker x reader #six of crows #six of crows x reader #shadow and bone #six of crows imagine #kaz brekker #kaz brekker imagine #shadow and bone season 2 #kaz brekker x reader imagines #kaz brekker x you #kaz brekker x y/n #kaz brekker headcanons #ashessonfire #requests open

[hyperactively-me]

i'll be your motivation

“I don’t…” you slur, squeezing your eyes shut. The last thing you see before collapsing fully on the ground are a pair of dark boots running towards you, your world fading to black. 

just wanted to ask you guys to please read this

(asks are open)

happy reading

warnings: none

This is bad. Really bad. Blood is seeping out of your pants, soaking through the dark material. The red doesn’t show easily through the color of the material, but there's obvious dark blotting where the wound is. You quickly shove your blaster into your thigh strap before reaching up to grab at the rubble to pull yourself up. The movement shakes you to your core, pain permeating your body as you pull yourself up right. It’s enough to make your vision blur and tears prick the corner of your eyes. You hiss as you take a step forward, the affliction shooting hot flashes up your leg with the sudden movement. 

You had no idea when you got shot during the fight, but the adrenaline was obviously wearing off now. The bounty proved to be more elusive than previously thought as the bounty had backup. I know right, who’d have thought that the bounty would be such a coward as to hire backup fighters. 

Yet, here we are, you thought with a wince. Suddenly, the sound of a jetpack fills your ears. You twist your head to the side and watch as Din gracefully touches down, meticulously avoiding stray rubble. You straighten your spine as you watch him slowly walk towards you, his hand holding his side. Din approaches and stops a few inches from you, breathing hard.

“You okay?” he grunts out, clutching his side tighter. 

“I– yeah I think so” you push out, twisting your leg away from his field of vision with a small wince. 

“Your side, is it…?” you question him, pointing a finger towards where he had his hand covered.

“It’s probably nothing, just took a nasty hit there” he drones out, shifting his weight on his feet. You nod, unsure of what to say to him. Another shooting pain rushes up your leg and you bite your lip in an attempt to subdue the pain. He stares at you for a moment. 

“Let’s head back” he says definitely, turning on his heel and making his way towards the direction of the Crest. 

“Right” you call after him, inhaling a shaky breath. You hesitantly test out your footing, the gash searing with pain with the movement. The afflicted area begins to throb now, pain permeating throughout your whole body. Your head is pounding. You shiver, your whole body quivering in pain. 

“Din–” you cry out, knees quaking under the overwhelming pain. Your vision blurs, tears pricking the corners of your eyes.

The glint of his armor dances in the blur of your eyes, his body turning around at your cries. Your body begins to give out, you stumble over your own feet, pulling at the skin and muscle around the wound. You go to take another step forward, but immediately your legs give out from under you, landing hard on your hands and knees. 

“I don’t…” you slur, squeezing your eyes shut. The last thing you see before collapsing fully on the ground are a pair of dark boots running towards you, your world fading to black. 

- - - - - 

Your eyes flutter open, stirring from the grogginess of sleep. A dull pain radiates from your leg, a rush of consciousness pours into your mind. Your steady breathing increases, your chest taking a deep inhale.

“Sweetheart.”

A husky voice rings out, your eyes opening wider at the sound. 

You groan out in pain, shifting slightly on the soft surface you were laying on. You’re brought out of your trance when a sudden stabbing pain erupts from your leg. You shriek, shooting up from your position on the cot, the blood rushing to your head. A strong hand plants itself on your chest, spanning across your stomach. The hand moves up and down on your stomach as your breathing comes out ragged, your face flush with color. 

“Lay back down” he says gruffly, pushing you back down with a gentle yet firm hand. You gulp, nodding your head quickly before plopping down on the cot. You scrunch your eyes shut, letting out a quick breath through your nose. 

He’s touching your leg. He’s touching your leg. He rolled up your pant leg and now he’s prodding the wound with some bacta spray and antiseptics. 

You twist the sheets in your grip, a hiss escaping your lips through gritted teeth as he applies antiseptic to the open wound. Your eyes follow his hands, noticing his gloves are discarded. 

You’re snapped out of your trance when he huffs out impatiently. 

“How long did you think you could hide that?” his voice is strained, anger seeping through the cracks of the modulator. His helmet glints in the dim light of the ship. 

Your mouth hangs open a little, unsure of how to respond. Your mouth opens and closes, thoughts trying to formulate in the fogginess of your brain. You flounder, hands gripping onto the sheets tighter, twisting it in your hold. 

“I didn’t…I thought I could fix it up myself” you blurt out. 

He yanks his helmet off his head, setting it down with a loud thunk on the floor. His nostrils are flared, his jaw is set. He looks angry. But he also looks worried? He looks conflicted on what to feel, emotions flashing through his eyes. Your eyes widen at his sudden action, taking in his face. It’s been a while since you’ve seen it. Same old brown eyes, hooked nose, tousled dark hair. 

“What do you mean? I just don’t understand how you thought you could successfully heal and bandage a blaster shot without me noticing.” His words tumble out quickly, his raw voice ringing in your ears. No modulator, no helmet. It’s like music to your ears, but it’s hard to think about that when he’s jumping down your throat for being so secretive. As if he hasn’t tried to pull similar stunts before. 

You scoff at his words, entertained by the irony of them. 

“Oh, so you’ve let me help you on the countless occasions of you coming back home with injuries far worse than mine? Help me understand that, Din” you spit out, sarcasm dripping from your voice. Your brows furrow as you speak, a frown erupting on your face. It’s always a struggle trying to get him to let you help him with injuries after encountering elusive bounties. You nearly have to wrestle him to the ground on occasion just to let you assess the damage dealt under his armor. 

“That’s different.”

“How?!”

“It just is.”

“Enlighten me, please.” 

“I’ve lived by myself for years. I know how to handle myself, how to handle my injuries. I’ve healed them all.”

“That doesn’t mean you did a good job at it. You’re covered in scars!”

He stills at your words. Regret creeps into your stomach, realizing your words went too far. You shouldn’t have said that, shouldn’t have pointed out something that is so painfully obvious to him, something that is a sore subject for him. You didn’t mean to, it just spilled out in the heat of the moment. Your face flushes as his mouth opens and closes, struggling to find something to say.  

“So what do you want me to do?” his voice growing louder, his eyes widening. His jaw is ticking now, anger present on his face. 

“I want you to let me help you!” you cry out.

“I want you to let me help you!” you cry out. “I try my best Din. I really do. I just don’t know how to help you sometimes” your throat hurts from straining your voice. You cross your arms over your chest and turn your head away from his gaze, huffing from his words. 

“Then you can begin by letting me help you with this blaster shot in your leg, sweetheart” Din exclaims, his hands reaching to grab your leg again. His large hand gently pulls your leg towards him, a stark contrast from his sharp words. He begins pulling out bandages to start dressing your wound. 

You don’t resist, no matter how much you want to. He’s made you so upset, a range of emotions pouring out from a deep feeling in your chest. The room is quiet, save for the soft humming of the ship. 

“Maker, I don’t know if I want to yell at you more or kiss you” you say, reaching out and grasping Din’s hand tightly. 

His head shoots up, soft brown eyes studying your face. Your heart stutters to a stop in your chest. Your eyes dart up to his face, his expression wrinkled and conflicted. He drags his hand from his chin up to his forehead, eliciting a deep sigh. He runs his hand through his hair, blowing out a breath. He looks at you impatiently before leaning towards you slowly, entering your personal space. 

Din pulls your hand up gently, kissing the knuckles before giving you a slight nod. You take this as permission to kiss him, leaning forward from your position on the cot and sitting fully upright with a small grunt. Your whole body tingles, heart racing from your own words. You tilt your head forwards until your lips connect with his.

As your lips meet, your eyes slide closed and you let out a sharp inhale through your nose, savoring the feeling of his lips on yours. You rest your hands on top of his shoulders, pulling him in closer to you until his chest is touching yours. Din pulls back a little faster than you want, breaking the kiss in order to breathe. Your eyes meet his, watching his chest slightly heave in the dim room. 

“You want more?” he breathes out, voice husky and low. You reach your hands around his neck, nodding your head quickly. 

“Please.” 

Din surges forward once more, kissing you harder this time. He slowly pushes you into the cot, resting his body weight over your chest. You’re horizontal now, bringing your hands up to thread through Din’s tousled hair. His arms rest on both sides of your head, kissing you like there’s nothing else in the world. You finally break the kiss, gulping in the cool air of the ship. His ears are red, face flushed. You hum to yourself, wondering how you were able to get him so undone after your argument. Which you realized you still have not resolved. 

“Sweetheart…” his voice comes out hoarse, he takes your hand in his. Din’s thumb rubs circles around your palm, an act of tranquility in an environment where emotions are running high. 

“I’m sorry” he says quietly, eyes downcast. 

“No, I should be the one apologizing, Din” you say, tugging his hand slightly, causing him to look up at you. 

“I– I should have told you earlier–” 

“I know.” 

“But you also need to let me help you, Din” you say pointedley. His lips part in surprise, as if he were about to say something, brows furrowing as he takes hold of your hand again. 

You squeeze his hand tightly. “I know that you’ve been alone all this time, but you have someone now. Someone who cares about you, and someone who knows how to take care of you.” His hand tightens in your hold, his fingers softly rubbing your knuckles.  “Just let me take care of you” you whisper. 

He nods slowly, cupping your face with a gentle touch. You bring a hand to his, leaning into his touch. 

“Ok” he says quietly. You hum in acknowledgement as he releases his hands from your face. 

“But sweetheart,” he pauses. You look at him expectantly, fidgeting with the sheets around you. “Don’t hide something like that from me ever again” he says darkly, eyes narrowing. You shiver under his gaze. 

“I can’t risk losing you over something like that. Promise me you won’t” he says, voice low and tender. 

You wrap your hands around Din’s neck, pulling him into your shoulder. He rests his forehead on your shoulder, bringing his hands up and around your torso, pulling you in close to him.

 “I promise.” 

#➶-͙˚ ༘✶ din djarin #din djarin x reader #din djarin fanfiction #din djarin x you #din djarin fluff #the mandalorian fanfic #din djarin #the mandalorian #din dijarin x reader #din djarin imagine #din djarin one shot #din dijarin fanfiction #the mandalorian one shot #the mandalorian fanfiction #the mandolarian #the mandalorian imagine #the mandalorian fan fiction #mando x reader #mandalorian imagine #grogu #star wars #hyperactivelyme

[vampi-fixx]

day 8, joseph joestar: foodplay

kinktobruary day 8

joseph joestar (part 2) x reader // jojo's bizzare adventure

summary: You bake a cake with Joseph. He has ideas for what you could be doing with one of the ingredients instead.

tw/cws: 18+ only, foodplay, kitchen sex, sex on the counter, joseph's filthy mouth and even filthier puns

word count: 1.2K

“Crack the eggs and separate the yolk from the white…. What the hell is the use of that?”

You can’t help but grin at Joseph’s utter frustration with the cookbook, and his subsequent yell when he cracks the whole egg into the batter, shell and all.

“Here, let me help.”

He pouts. “Whoever wrote this is some kind of whackjob. Some grandma with gizmos and one eye, probably. How do you even separate eggs?! What does this have to do with baking a cake?”

Through laughter, you grab his hands. “Relax, I’ll show you.”

As you crack an egg before carefully sifting the two halves, from one shell to another, Joseph whistles appreciatively. “Reminds me of how you handle another pair of balls—” His hands begin trailing up your apron.

“Aaand it’s time to make the batter,” you say, whirling around to grab the ingredients, and evading his grasp. 

He frowns as you edge away from him, but his eyes alight once he sees a bowl on the counter. 

“Baby, what’s this?”

“It’s the whipped cream, Joseph—”

He flicks some onto you, and it lands on your nose. His finger dips back into the bowl, bringing it to his lips before swirling his tongue around it. “Delicious.”

“But I think you taste sweeter,” he says, bridging the gap between you two as his tongue darts out to lick the cream off your nose. You grimace.

“Gross. You better have washed those hands.”

“All the time, baby! I’m the epitome of hygiene.” He grins. 

While it seems Joseph has a preoccupation with any kind of baking ingredient that allows him to maximize innuendos, you slide the bowl away from, ducking under his outstretched arm before placing it on your side of the kitchen counter. As you begin mixing together the ingredients for the cake batter, Joseph stays oddly quiet. You glance up to find him staring at you with a thoughtful expression. 

“Look, baby, don’t take this the wrong way but…” He nudges himself between you and the bowl, ducking to avoid your swat to his shoulder. He shoots you a devilish grin. “I’d much rather see you play with a different kind of cream.”

He lifts you onto the counter amid your protests, and then his lips are on yours, unyielding and excitable. When your kiss breaks, your hands darts to the bowl of whipped cream next to you before smearing some on his lips.

He blinks, stunned. “Babe, what the hell—“

And then you’re darting forward to lick up the whipped cream, your tongue laving across his pouted lips. A devious smirk soon forms on Joseph’s face, as he grabbed some more of the cream, before chucking it at your apron.

“Whoops, babe,” he says, sounding not the slightest bit remorseful. “Guess you’ll have to take that off.”

He takes great pleasure in stripping your apron from you, leaving you clad in only a sheer tank top and loose pants. Joseph throws it to the floor before swiping more whipped cream, and smearing it over your clothed nipples. Your gasp turns into a yelp as his tongue comes out to lick them clean. His saliva permeates through the thin fabric of your shirt, and soon his tongue is flicking at your hardened peaks before his lips close around them to suck. 

You moan, and Joseph stops to grin. He makes a show of smacking his lips together. “It’s good... but I bet it’s even more delicious served raw.” He waggles his brows at you, his hands coming up to grope your breasts.

“JoJo!”

He yanks your top down until the hem of your shirt sits right under breasts, and then he gets to work licking all over your exposed flesh. You tilt your head back, moans coming unbidden from your lips. 

You grab a fistful of his hair and tug, urging him closer. When he stops his ministrations to come up for air, you smash your lips against his. Your hands drop to his crop top and tug impatiently at the hem.

“Oh?” He grins, breaking the kiss. “Does my little chef want to see more of my rippling physique?”

“JoJo, just shut up and strip.” You roll your eyes. 

“As you command,” he mocks. When he’s shirtless, you grab a fistful of whipped cream and spread it around his pecs, then your tongue is at work as well. Joseph isn’t the biggest fan of nipple play, but he had to admit that the way your tongue, hot and wet and bold, maps out the planes of his body… He groans when your skillful tongue flicks his pebbled nipple, his dick straining in his pants. 

Joseph is everything but patient, however, as he eventually starts yanking at your leggings, before shucking off his own pants and boxers. His cock juts out impressively, and he presses it against you, warm and heavy against your thigh.

“I think it’s time I entered your oven.”

“JoJo, are you serious—“

And then he thrusts into you, and your words trail off into a choke.

“Fuck, I bet you’re even warmer than that oven,” he grunts.

“Joseph—” You want to admonish him for his awful jokes, but it’s frankly difficult to considering the amount of manmeat he was currently pumping into you. What Joseph lacks in finesse he certainly doesn’t lack in enthusiasm. His thrusts are earnest in their vigor, and when he reaches down to fumble with your clit, your tingling pleasure builds to a rolling simmer. 

Your gaze darts to the whipped cream. Knowing Joseph is a visual creature, you don’t mind helping him along. You grab a handful, streaking the cream down your chest towards your navel. Joseph’s gaze follows the path like a dog, groaning when he sees your creamy hands trail up to fondle your breast, the thick white substance smearing over your chest. 

He’s cursing now. “Fuck, (Y/N), fuck—that’s hot.”

“Joseph….” You give him your best half-lidded look. “I want your cream… all over me.”

His pace increases, the slap of his thrusts melding with the squelchof your dripping arousal. His back hunched over, a litany of curses stream out of him.

“Y-yeah?” He swallows roughly. “Where do you want it, baby?”

“Mm, inside. I want to feel you finish inside of me.” 

“Fuck, I’m gonna give you all my cream. Fuck. Enjoy—” He grunts, dragging his cock along your walls as he unleashes hot jets of his spend inside you. You moan at the sensation, Joseph’s thick, clumsy fingers increasing their pressure on your nub as you sporadically clench around him. He watches you unravel before him with keen eyes, his fingers unceasing in their attack, and it takes your hand clamping over his with a weak plea before he stops. Grinning, he places a kiss on your forehead before pulling out of you, cum dripping out from how much he’s stuffed you with. He eyes it suggestively.

“I think we should make our own cookbook instead, don’t you think?”

You laugh breathlessly once you can catch your breath. “...Yeah? And what would we call it?”

“Joseph Joestar’s Guide to Cream-Filled Desserts.”

This time, you do manage to swat his shoulder. He chortles. “Maybe I’ll get rich off of it!”

#Joseph Joestar x reader #jjba x reader #jjba smut #Joseph Joestar smut #tati writes #kinktobruary

[sokkastyles]

Hi,

Hope you are doing well. Thank you for the response on my last query. I was reading a meta about the air bender extermination, which you had reblogged in one of my older queries on TSR.

Reading it properly. I realized two things

The fact that all the air nomads were exterminated makes no sense. Were they stupid enough to not escape when they were attacked? If we are to believe none escaped, then air nomads are actually dumb.

The above also goes against the fact that Aang's Avatar training was to begin when he was 12 instead of 16, because the monks seems to have realized that the war was approaching, and he needed to be ready, which is why they tried to take Aang away from Monk Gyatso, which led to Aang running away out of fear.

This goes into LOK territory, but there are some disturbing implications of the way the Air Nomads operate. The idea that every air nomad child born will be a bender is just not possible. Heck, two of Aang's children are not air benders, so that itself throws a wrench in that idea. It also makes them similar to Ozai, if they actually held such idea (this point is never made in the shows or acknowledged in canon I think, but the idea is dangerous, and well Air Nomads are not to be idealized.)

I would like your thoughts on this.

(The meta I am referring to is; " The Airbender Extermination Is Dumbo and I Refuse to Accept It" by tumblr user @whentheynameyoujoy)

@whentheynameyoujoy's atla metas are a treasure, and I agree with the above statements. One of the big plot holes in the story is not only that the air Nomads were all exterminated in one fell swoop, despite being Nomads, something the live action adaptation tried to explain by having them all come to the Southern Temple on the night they were attacked, and Sozin purposefully planning his attack on that day. But the other thing about it is that as you say, the reason Aang was told before sixteen was because the Air Nomads knew the war was coming. They were preparing for it, to the point where they were willing to put a child's life on the line before he was ready, but they weren't prepared enough to be ready to fly away the moment a threat occurred? If we factor in the live action, this also means they decided to all have a party in the same place on the same night that they knew the people who wanted them dead would be at their most powerful.

It also just doesn't make thematic sense. These are AIR Nomads, they should be able to go wherever the wind takes them, to scatter at a moment's notice, to rise no matter how many times an attempt is made to crush them. Wouldn't that be a satisfying ending, for us to find out that like the air, there were hidden pockets that remained, permeating even the fire nation so that it would be impossible to truly defeat them. Wouldn't that also fit really well with the whole illusion of separation thing?

Which brings me to point three, or, Eugenics is Good When Good People Do It, which is actually very bad. The only way the Air Nomads only produced benders is if they did not mingle with the other nations, which makes no sense, since they were nomads, or if they somehow got rid of nonbender babies, either through dropping them off at the nearest earth kingdom orphanage (which is similar to my headcanon on what people like Ozai might do with nonbender children, or straight up infanticide, which Ozai also is a fan of.

Unfortunately the first method does not explain why there were no airbenders just hanging out in the other nations. Since we know that bending can be passed to a child from nonbender parents, then even nonbender children of air nomads would be passing on the airbender gene, and there would be nonbenders all over the Earth Kingdom suddenly giving birth to airbender children. That actually would have been another clever way to reintroduce airbenders back into the world, instead of...whatever Korra does. It also fits with theory of people like Ty Lee having air nomad blood without knowing it.

#atla critical

[mr-styles]

When Harry Styles Met David Hockney: An Exclusive First Look At A Special New Portrait

A legendary painter and a pop lodestar? Sparks were inevitable. David Hockney and Harry Styles share a very special sitting with Liam Hess

W​​hat’s the secret to a great portrait? At 86 years old, David Hockney has a few ideas. A lifetime of looking has taught him to always start with the face. “I begin with the head first,” he says, matter-of-factly, from his home in France. “From there, I place everything else.”

That was his approach when, late last May, Harry Styles travelled to his light-filled studio in Normandy and stationed himself on a cane chair, ready to become the esteemed artist’s latest subject. Over two days, Hockney worked to capture the exact hues of red and yellow in Styles’s striped cardigan, the indigo of his jeans, the string of pearls at his neck – not to mention the unmistakable tousled fringe of one of the world’s biggest pop stars. For the artist, though, the goal was merely to capture the essence of the person in front of him. “I wasn’t really aware of his celebrity then,” Hockney says, with a shrug. “He was just another person who came to the studio.”

The pair struck up an instant rapport that was likely helped by Styles being a full-on fanboy. For his US Vogue cover shoot in 2020, Styles wore a pair of hand-painted Bode cords that featured a talismanic illustration of Hockney by artist Aayushia Khowala. It’s also hard to imagine the wide-eyed wonder of a flamboyant Brit discovering the sunny thrills and spills of California – a theme, and sound, that has permeated the former One Direction singer’s solo albums – without Hockney as a precedent. “David Hockney has been reinventing the way we look at the world for decades,” says Styles. “It was a complete privilege to be painted by him.”

The unveiling of the portrait kicks off the second iteration of the National Portrait Gallery’s Hockney exhibition Drawing From Life, which first opened in February 2020, only to close weeks later due to the pandemic. With the addition of a new room of pictures charting Hockney’s creative impulses throughout lockdown, the show returns on 2 November – a few months after a refurbishment of the entire museum – with Styles’s portrait as its crown jewel. “The whole world shut down, and the exhibition was still sitting there, in the dark,” recalls Sarah Howgate, the gallery’s senior curator of contemporary collections, who oversaw the exhibition in both phases. “So it’s nice to know it will have another life.”

The Styles painting may bring star wattage, but the unassuming genius of Hockney’s portraiture is still the main exhibition draw. What makes his images tick, you quickly learn, is their honesty: whether in the tension bubbling beneath the surface of his famed double portrait of Ossie Clark and Celia Birtwell, painted between 1970 and ’71, or the seated figures that populated his 2016 Royal Academy of Arts exhibition, which included the likes of his own sister, Margaret, and the late comedian Barry Humphries. Hockney’s eye for the human figure may be playful, often kaleidoscopic, sometimes fantastical – but it’s always, most importantly, frank.

Styles’s portrait will hang alongside those of writer Gregory Evans, Hockney’s printer Maurice Payne, the mayor of his local town Dozulé, his gardener and even his chiropodist, or in Hockney’s words, “the dandy who cuts my toenails” .

One of his more recent subjects was the eminent music producer Clive Davis, who first suggested inviting Styles to swing by. “Clive told me about Harry’s new album, and JP [Hockney’s studio assistant] sent Harry a note and asked him if he’d like to come to my studio and sit for his portrait,” Hockney remembers. “He replied straight away and said, yes, he’d love to.” From there, Hockney’s process of painting Styles was instinctive. “Everybody just came to sit,” he says, breezily, before admitting: “Now I know Harry’s a celebrity, though: I’ve seen all his music videos.”

“He’s not a traditional portrait painter,” says Howgate. Hockney’s interest is not in what people do, but rather in who they are. “He’s not interested in fame. He’s interested in depicting people and their relationships.” It’s why his eye is primarily trained on his inner circle these days – but it also pays testament to his enduring curiosity that he’s still willing to open that up to a newcomer every so often. Styles seems to know how lucky he is, adding, with a tinge of disbelief: “I’m in awe of the man with enough one-liners for a lifetime.” As to what those one-liners might be? Styles and Hockney’s mutual silence on that question suggests that what happens in the studio, stays in the studio.

via vogue.co.uk

#harry styles #david hockney

[thestylesindependent]

W​​hat’s the secret to a great portrait? At 86 years old, David Hockney has a few ideas. A lifetime of looking has taught him to always start with the face. “I begin with the head first,” he says, matter-of-factly, from his home in France. “From there, I place everything else.”

That was his approach when, late last May, Harry Styles travelled to his light-filled studio in Normandy and stationed himself on a cane chair, ready to become the esteemed artist’s latest subject. Over two days, Hockney worked to capture the exact hues of red and yellow in Styles’s striped cardigan, the indigo of his jeans, the string of pearls at his neck – not to mention the unmistakable tousled fringe of one of the world’s biggest pop stars. For the artist, though, the goal was merely to capture the essence of the person in front of him. “I wasn’t really aware of his celebrity then,” Hockney says, with a shrug. “He was just another person who came to the studio.”

The pair struck up an instant rapport that was likely helped by Styles being a full-on fanboy. For his US Vogue cover shoot in 2020, Styles wore a pair of hand-painted Bode cords that featured a talismanic illustration of Hockney by artist Aayushia Khowala. It’s also hard to imagine the wide-eyed wonder of a flamboyant Brit discovering the sunny thrills and spills of California – a theme, and sound, that has permeated the former One Direction singer’s solo albums – without Hockney as a precedent. “David Hockney has been reinventing the way we look at the world for decades,” says Styles. “It was a complete privilege to be painted by him.”

The unveiling of the portrait kicks off the second iteration of the National Portrait Gallery’s Hockney exhibition Drawing From Life, which first opened in February 2020, only to close weeks later due to the pandemic. With the addition of a new room of pictures charting Hockney’s creative impulses throughout lockdown, the show returns on 2 November – a few months after a refurbishment of the entire museum – with Styles’s portrait as its crown jewel. “The whole world shut down, and the exhibition was still sitting there, in the dark,” recalls Sarah Howgate, the gallery’s senior curator of contemporary collections, who oversaw the exhibition in both phases. “So it’s nice to know it will have another life.”

The Styles painting may bring star wattage, but the unassuming genius of Hockney’s portraiture is still the main exhibition draw. What makes his images tick, you quickly learn, is their honesty: whether in the tension bubbling beneath the surface of his famed double portrait of Ossie Clark and Celia Birtwell, painted between 1970 and ’71, or the seated figures that populated his 2016 Royal Academy of Arts exhibition, which included the likes of his own sister, Margaret, and the late comedian Barry Humphries. Hockney’s eye for the human figure may be playful, often kaleidoscopic, sometimes fantastical – but it’s always, most importantly, frank.

Styles’s portrait will hang alongside those of writer Gregory Evans, Hockney’s printer Maurice Payne, the mayor of his local town Dozulé, his gardener and even his chiropodist, or in Hockney’s words, “the dandy who cuts my toenails” .

One of his more recent subjects was the eminent music producer Clive Davis, who first suggested inviting Styles to swing by. “Clive told me about Harry’s new album, and JP [Hockney’s studio assistant] sent Harry a note and asked him if he’d like to come to my studio and sit for his portrait,” Hockney remembers. “He replied straight away and said, yes, he’d love to.” From there, Hockney’s process of painting Styles was instinctive. “Everybody just came to sit,” he says, breezily, before admitting: “Now I know Harry’s a celebrity, though: I’ve seen all his music videos.”

“He’s not a traditional portrait painter,” says Howgate. Hockney’s interest is not in what people do, but rather in who they are. “He’s not interested in fame. He’s interested in depicting people and their relationships.” It’s why his eye is primarily trained on his inner circle these days – but it also pays testament to his enduring curiosity that he’s still willing to open that up to a newcomer every so often. Styles seems to know how lucky he is, adding, with a tinge of disbelief: “I’m in awe of the man with enough one-liners for a lifetime.” As to what those one-liners might be? Styles and Hockney’s mutual silence on that question suggests that what happens in the studio, stays in the studio.

David Hockney: Drawing From Life will be at the National Portrait Gallery from 2 November to 21 January 2024

#harry styles #august 2023 #david hockney