#as much as I love metaphors and shit | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

17magpiesinatrenchcoat · 5 months

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ALL THE SLAY THE PRINCESS ANALYSIS-ISH POSTS IVE FOUND ON HERE SO FAR

As someone who can never really grasp meanings in media beyond surface level, analyses like these are always lovely to read. Here are all the ones I’ve gathered during my short time in the fanbase so far, this is mainly for myself, but maybe it would be useful to someone else!! Also. If anyone knows of any more, please please send them to me!! I will add more as I go too.

I don’t think these all count as analyses, but they all made me go “oooh :0” so yeah

https://www.tumblr.com/momentomori24/735278091386126336/i-just-had-an-epiphany-about-the-cold-that-i-never

https://www.tumblr.com/lipstickchainsaw/735000176332259328/the-pristine-blade

https://www.tumblr.com/electronicdelusionstarlight/735270452740734976/id-like-to-point-out-that-in-the-wild-if-you

https://www.tumblr.com/dapperrokyuu/735178155760992257/alright-now-that-ive-seen-the-end-slay-the

https://www.tumblr.com/momentomori24/735068416032047104/something-i-really-love-about-the-smitten-is-how

https://www.tumblr.com/geebeeskoos/735078530884534272/the-nightmare-the-moment-of-clarity-might-be-the

https://www.tumblr.com/electronicdelusionstarlight/734951196420358144/id-like-to-point-out-that-while-the-tower-and-the

https://www.tumblr.com/bpdwwx/734705488874422272/insane-over-slay-the-princess-imagine-death

https://www.tumblr.com/satellite-slickers/734633384872132608/slay-the-princess-is-really-cool-because-learning

https://www.tumblr.com/satellite-slickers/734573430353117184/i-just-realized-that-even-though-our-protagonist

https://www.tumblr.com/satellite-slickers/734558408577073153/i-like-how-the-twist-in-slay-the-princess-isnt

https://www.tumblr.com/golvio/734492024048369664/it-was-a-bit-of-whiplash-going-from-the-damsel-to

https://www.tumblr.com/three-lesbians-of-the-apocalypse/734467272705490944/theres-something-so-chilling-about-asking-the

https://www.tumblr.com/in-fair-verona-we-set-our-scene/734463751524319232/the-more-i-think-about-it-the-more-not-exactly

https://www.tumblr.com/honeyfizzly/734464645923045376/i-think-the-horror-of-deconstructed-damsel-comes

https://www.tumblr.com/colorful-noircuts/733183847545683968/rambling-about-something-i-realised-in-slay-the hello my lovely mutual!!

https://www.tumblr.com/k20spock/734344272686481408/i-feel-like-i-havent-seen-as-much-discussion-of

https://www.tumblr.com/nerdlordofnerds/734384189011607552/man-dont-you-hate-it-when-you-try-to-rid-the-world

https://www.tumblr.com/lipstickchainsaw/735338029994115072/oh-for-the-stp-questions-what-do-you-think-of

https://www.tumblr.com/honeyfizzly/735336172257198080/i-really-adore-the-witch-wild-route-because

https://www.tumblr.com/supervillainies/735028943239921664/ive-mentioned-it-before-but-voice-of-the-cold

https://www.tumblr.com/lots-of-little-pink-clouds/734249738756620288/follow-up-thought-tsm-says-when-you-meet-he-gave

https://www.tumblr.com/angelofthemornings/734527183265185792/one-thing-i-like-about-slay-the-princess-is-that?source=share

https://www.tumblr.com/metanarrates/734373760026705920/if-you-choose-to-chain-yourself-next-to-the?source=share

https://www.tumblr.com/satellite-slickers/734216961853095936/durring-slay-the-princess-our-leads-have-the-only?source=share

https://www.tumblr.com/golvio/734035911415857152/tried-the-damsel-route-today-this-shot-and-the?source=share

https://www.tumblr.com/electronicdelusionstarlight/733870455536173056/say-what-you-want-about-the-smitten-but-the-man?source=share

https://www.tumblr.com/electronicdelusionstarlight/733801315338190848/the-way-the-skeptic-implicitly-trusts-the?source=share

https://www.tumblr.com/electronicdelusionstarlight/733269659334426624/the-way-the-shifting-mound-ends-every-ending-by

https://www.tumblr.com/electronicdelusionstarlight/733333027972907008/the-way-the-princess-has-no-name-but-at-the-same

https://www.tumblr.com/justsalpals/733475592170848256/the-spectre-really-had-no-idea-what-she-was-doing

https://www.tumblr.com/electronicdelusionstarlight/733630301609295872/the-way-you-can-only-kill-the-princess-with-the

https://www.tumblr.com/lipstickchainsaw/735453678374469632/also-what-do-you-think-of-the-adversary-i-like

https://www.tumblr.com/lipstickchainsaw/735448991864635392/oh-oh-another-question-what-do-you-think-is-up

https://www.tumblr.com/lipstickchainsaw/735538031989293056/oh-what-do-you-think-of-the-spectre-and-prisoner

https://www.tumblr.com/lipstickchainsaw/735509320346812416/what-do-you-think-of-nightmare-and-spectre

https://www.tumblr.com/minotaur-asterion/735506279592787968/might-be-a-weird-question-but-what-do-you-think this one isn’t an analysis at all but I thought it was funny

https://www.tumblr.com/birdmitosis/735586819735961601/this-honestly-really-fascinates-me-because-it

https://www.tumblr.com/lipstickchainsaw/735614693262196736/ohhhh-and-what-about-the-narrator

https://www.tumblr.com/elieclowngamer/735849806204960768/okay-but-like-spoilers-for-slay-the-princess

https://www.tumblr.com/lipstickchainsaw/735902648917721088/what-do-you-think-about-the-beast-in-stp

https://www.tumblr.com/lipstickchainsaw/736242037895168000/what-do-you-think-about-the-fury-and-the

https://www.tumblr.com/k20spock/736789844699807744/birds-and-trees-in-slay-the-princess

https://www.tumblr.com/lipstickchainsaw/735509712935829504/what-do-you-think-of-nightmare-and-spectre

https://www.tumblr.com/lipstickchainsaw/736243685245730816/what-do-you-think-about-the-fury-and-the

https://www.tumblr.com/fierce-little-miana/736431035990016000/strange-beginnings-ending

https://www.tumblr.com/chi-the-idiot/736610535159873536/ok-but-we-need-to-adress-how-slay-the-princess

#slay the princess #shut up lori #I’m gonna go hunting for more of these tomorrow #please send me any more you can find!!#on tumblr or anywhere #I must collect these like a crow collecting shiny things #this is the only way I can see all the cool ass deeper meanings in this game #as much as I love metaphors and shit #because of my autism I find it extremely hard to take things beyond surface level/literally #so being able to read stuff like this makes me appreciate art like this so much more #showing me all the depth I cannot see on my own

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svtskneecaps · 5 months

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lukewarm take of the evening: y'all care too much about being ""outdated"". fellas this smp moves inhumanly fast. it is ok to CHILL holy shit CHILL. y'all are like "(posts BANGER ART) super late guys sorry" friend i am hitting you with a blanket i am snapping you with my metaphorical towel WHAT DO YOU MEAN SORRY. "(posts BANGER FIC) rip this is outdated now" WHO CARES???? I LOVE YOU, OK. ohhhh woe is us as the fandom at large for having MORE HAPPY PILLS ARC CONTENT oh no how outdated!! how could you be writing speculative fiction about how forever felt during happy pills :( slash SARCASM!! WHAT DO YOU MEAN!!!! THERE ARE SO MANY BANGER ARCS, WHAT, YOU THINK WE'RE COMPLAINING????? FOR GETTING MORE OF THE CONTENT WE LOVED????? oh no we're past the period where everyone thought green gay ninjas were like Dead Dead, my work is now outdated and noncanon :( WDYM. GIMME. A BANGER IS A BANGER IDC IF IT TAKES THREE MONTHS. you think rome was built in a day?? fuck you, baltimore, GIMME. my ass has been cooking a goddamn backflipo family fic since july when it was ALREADY outdated do you think i fear god??? "oh no, you're making an edit of slime's (attempted) egg murdering spree?? how could you, that was months ago it's irrelevant" SAID NO ONE EVER.

save your wrists kidlings ok carpal tunnel is no joke. CHILL!!!!! CHILL!!!!!!!! TAKE YOUR TIME SHEEEEEESH OK LOVE YOU <3

#qsmp #shut up vic #block game brainrot #IT IS OK TO NOT ALWAYS POST SHIT THIRTY SECONDS AFTER IT HAPPENS!!!!!!!#for god's sake we have MONTHS of lore and bangers ok???#i still have a mental image of an art i wish i could make from BOBBY'S NIGHTMARE #HE HAS BEEN GONE FOR M O N T H S and you bet your ass if i can make it I WILL BE POSTING IT #SO. MUCH. SHIT. HAS. HAPPENED. who cares if it was months ago!!!!!!#it's ok to be a few days late!!! it's ok to be a few months late!!!!! don't tell me sorry for feeding me!!!!!!#part of me still lives in I'M NOT HOLDING A FUCKING FUNERAL CHAT #part of me still lives in maxo's final song for his son!!!!#part of me still lives in the day we thought ramón was gone for good #part of me still lives in cellbit sprinting to his son only to be ripped away back to the feds just as richas turns to write a sign #part of me still lives in the flooding of the copacabana ocean #THESE ARE BANGERS. REMEMBER WHEN FIT FOUND PAC E MIKE IN PRISON. BANGER.#oh dear new work expanding on a canon moment i super liked that happened months ago how late smh SAID NO ONE EVER #TWO CAKES!!!!! TWO CAKES MOTHERFUCKER!!!!!!!! WE LOVE PASTRIES DON'T EVEN WORRY ABOUT IT #COME ON Y'ALL. METAPHORICAL KISSES. LOVE YOU. HAVE A GOOD WEEK.#long tags

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glowinggreeneyes-e · 19 days

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do you ever think about what Havers felt when being promoted to Captain?

like there was a significant amount of time where that was his rank, his title, his authority; people referred to him as ‘Captain’; and he had to sit with the fact he was called by the name of the man he loved, hundreds or thousands of miles away, with the only peace of mind being that his Captain was safe.

did he flinch every time someone called ‘Captain Havers’ or did it bring him some comfort, like the taking of a last name in marriage? did he suppress a smile at memory of his Captain’s name on his tongue? did it feel like belonging? or did the War all blur into one, eventually forgetting how much comfort and love the word once brought?

and when he was promoted to Major, of course, of course, there was the pride and responsibility of serving, leading men, life-and-death decisions, and strategising on saving lives.

but was there a loss at the one thing connecting him back home to his Captain? a renewed guilt for leaving and then surpassing his beloved? did he wonder what James was up to, at home, as a man far below his equal in the eyes of society and the Army?

were they ever going to be seen as equal to each other or, indeed, to other men?

#something something metaphors for homosexuality and autism something something parallels and love something #sorry this was a ramble and a half but yeah idk how much thought the fandom has put into it #I could be rehashing old meta #pls add to this as well if I’ve forgotten shit #meta #bbc ghosts #capvers #caphavers #havers #captain #my post #if they were allowed to love they would’ve been equal in each others eyes and that’s all that mattered

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linkedin-offficial · 4 months

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♟️ unholy

#:3 .... we love chess metaphors over here #more in the “hero playing kinger for a fool underneath his own nose” saga #or. more or less just the “hero fucking hates the monarchy” saga #same thing #(insert tf2 spy gif)#thats literally pretty much whats going on with him and i love every second of it #the amazing digital circus #tadc hero #the amazing digital carnival #carnival au #MY ASS AINT IGNORING THE FACT THAT SM TOLD ME IM RIGHT BTW. IM RUNNING WITH THIS SHIT BOYYYYYY #MORE HERO STUFF ON THE HORIZON REGICIDE CRUSADE MY BELOVEDSSS‼️‼️‼️‼️#so far goose is the only one whos mentioned and found the symbolic details :3 #see if you can too viewer<3 #if you can ill give you a cookie🪤

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vasito-de-leche · 5 months

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okay I read your analysis on Forget Me Not and I'm in tears now thank you. (No but really thank you, it's such a touching piece.) Can you PLEASE for salvation of our fans souls write anything to like,,, give him hope? Forget Me Not x reader but it doesn't have to be actually all-out with hugs and kisses. We may,,,,,,,, just show him a new hobby? Any hobby of your choosing or idk play an instrument together. Just to give him something else to focus on, to channel at least part of his energy from self-destructive activities to something less hurtful. I'd personally like to bandage his (not actually wounded but still) hands as if they were bleeding. Something of the kind. Sorry for mistakes writing is incredibly inconvenient cuz tears aaa.

;R1999 FORGET ME NOT - "hands, fingers, scales"

Forget Me Not x Reader. 2.3k words. self-harm implied You've befriended Forget Me Not the same one befriends a rabid, beaten, old dog. And while he's much too busy fighting his inner demons, you're more worried about stopping these "pernicious habits" of his. A casual afternoon trying to make sure he's taking care of himself turns into something deeper.

thank you so much for the ask, nonnie!!

I got a little carried away with this request because thinking about how fucking insufferable and confusing FMN has to be just to indulge in HAND HOLDING and GETTING A FUCKING HOBBY made me so deranged and feral as if hes not fucking TOUCHSTARVED lmfao. this guy's love language is straight up worshipping, mf is not subtle about it

either way, hope you like it! here's the lil preview!

Sometimes, Forget Me Not understands the reason men and women kneel at the pew to worship and pray.

Devotion is something arcanists and humans share, whether honest or not. He's witnessed the rich and the poor, the pure and the depraved, and every binary that rules this world - all of them begging, pleading and praying at the end of their lives, casting away the pride they've held on for so long for the chance of salvation. Once stripped down to their core, there is nothing to do but hope God has enough love in His heart to look their way.

And sometimes, Forget Me Not prays that you’ll find someone else - anyone but him - to fill the role of devotee.

The gentleness in your eyes whenever you look at him is enough to bring him to his knees, and Forget Me Not doesn't know what to do with himself but to worship and pray. Praying that you'll continue to look at him for a little longer, silently begging for your attention until you finally tire of him. Do you think yourself holy enough to replace the vitriol in his veins?

He does.

On good days, he even hopes that you can save him.

You never asked him to become your one and only believer, of course. You're not even aware of the space you take in his mind, nor the conflicting images he keeps conjuring of you at night, he's certain of this. Otherwise, you wouldn't be here, holding his hands and inspecting them for any injuries. This role is one of the many self-imposed tragedies in his life.

Your thumbs knead and massage his palm, as if you could soothe the pain away, and yet you refrain from pressing down hard. He's at your mercy, why hesitate? What do you see that he cannot?

Something is bothering you. It's obvious in the way you touch him, like you're afraid of hurting him, as if you were the one with a body count between the two. Every so often, your movements come to a halt and you both sit in silence, until you return to your ministrations, filling the nothingness with your sighing and humming.

All he needs is to look up, right at your face, to know everything he wants to know - but he's too much of a coward for that. Instead, light grey eyes follow your index finger as it slides under the cuffs of his shirt. You trace over the bone of his wrist and continue upwards.

He can't tear his eyes away.

Normally, Forget Me Not wouldn't mind. There is an addictive thrill to witnessing the shock of anyone who dares get so close and personal, but he feels himself shrink when you brush against his scales and recoil away on instinct. That's when he raises his head and finds your eyes in the dimly lit staff room.

That expression on your face - surely, you were regretting every choice that led you to him. By now, you might've surely realized that there is nothing for you to salvage in this shipwreck he calls a life. All attempts to check on him were surely a façade for whatever ulterior motives you continued to withhold from him. He's stubborn, believing that he can read you like an open book, but now he's just as lost as you are. When he opens his mouth to speak, you beat him to it and he grows a little restless at your words.

"Sorry, sorry! Did I, uh, hurt you? Dumb question, you would've definitely told me if that were the case. Anyway, it looks like you're okay! I don't know why I was so worried, actually."

His silence prompts you to continue, and all Forget Me Not can focus on is the absence of your warmth.

You raise a hand to gesture dismissively at your behaviour, brush it off to ease your embarrassment, that much he understands - though it's painful to watch you fumble like that, to deny what he hides under his clothes. Forget Me Not thinks of filling the space between your fingers with his own, just to drag you back to that quiet, albeit suffocating, moment of peace. Instead of doing that, he retreats and places both hands neatly on his lap.

"Thanks for indulging me and, yeah uh, again - sorry about that? It just caught me off guard. I should've been more careful."

But you were never careful with his space or his rules, plunging in and out of his life and leaving him to figure out where he stood in his game of push and pull. Why were you being careful now?

"It's nothing, I understand," he lies. Everything you do means the world to him and he doesn't even understand why. "It cannot hurt to know what sort of things the person pouring your drinks might be hiding under their sleeves."

The word "hypocrite" lingers at the tip of his tongue, threatening to spill out with as much venom as he can muster, but it stays lodged behind his teeth because he knows he's even worse: Forget Me Not prays that you'll stay with him, while also opening the door right out his life for you. As much as he wants to, he has no right of calling you out.

He's not used to receiving apologies and so he chooses not to think too hard on yours - though he's dreamed countless of times for the perfect situation in which he finally rips out one apology after another from the throats of those who wronged him, this one feels different. Undeserved, even.

His heart, that wretched lump in his chest, finally settles down and he prepares to end this interaction to save you the awkwardness of addressing his "deformities". But then you go and surprise him once more.

"Come on, I already told you..." You sigh and he inhales in tandem, but you're much too busy rolling your eyes to notice. "That whole thing you do, when you start scratching or, like, picking at your hand? You've been doing it more lately. It had me worried you might've been doing, I don't know - something."

Forget Me Not's eyes widen in surprise. The audacity to notice such things about him? And to put them on display without a warning? What else did you find out?

Part of him wants him to embrace his nature and scare you away, but that's the side of him that's been slowly losing this battle of attrition in his heart - you're a bad influence for him, after all. The other part... Well, it's still trying to sort itself out.

He settles for slowly undoing the buttons on his sleeve. It only takes a moment to roll up the fine fabric to his elbow, knowing you're staring right at him, through him maybe. The expression on his face is one of indifference, one he fights to maintain - this is the most vulnerable he's felt in decades.

That unsightly pattern begins exactly where his sleeves usually end, coiling around his forearm not unlike a snake and traveling upwards. The scales are dark, an iridescent black that reminds him of an oil spill in the middle of the ocean, and the ones at the edges fade away into lighter hues until they mix with the pale, sickly tone of his skin. He knows the sort of beauty he holds, one that can only be admired at a distance, turning into a grotesque imitation of a man when up close.

Forget Me Not presents himself to you and, with his free hand, gets ready to pluck one of the scales off.

"Wait, don't do that-!"

Seizing his arm and holding it close to your chest, you deprive him of the catharsis that comes with this level of self-mutilation. He knows you're connecting the dots, feeling the scattered, empty spaces from all the times you saw him pick himself apart and more. Your fingers brush against his bare skin looking for said spaces, counting them in your head, mourning their loss.

Some scales are in the process of regrowing like unwanted parasites, and he wishes he could feel anything at all just to be closer to you.

"God, what is wrong with you?! What was the point of that?"

Something compels him to laugh (perhaps it's your heartbeat reaching out to him loud and clear through your clothes, he feels it faintly) it comes across as sinister and condescending, the only way he knows how to express joy. Like he's making fun of your concern.

"Apologies," Forget Me Not begins to say, readjusting his glasses. The way you try to keep his own arm out of his reach doesn't go unnoticed. It's such a petty, childish gesture that makes his grin widen and your frown deepen. "I was under the impression you found this little oddity distasteful. There's no need to worry - they will return in a few days, they always do."

"Still, don't do that. It's not funny. It must...hurt a lot."

"Ah, but it doesn't. If else, I'd compare it to being pricked by a very small needle."

"You're just going to find something to nitpick and contradict everything I say, aren't you?" It's the least he can do to repay all the headaches you've given him, and for forgiving his transgressions too easily.

An intrusive thought makes itself known from the depths of his mind - would you forgive him just as readily if he were to kill someone in front of you? If he showed you just how destructive his arcane skills could be when given free reign? Where would you draw the line? And how much could he continue to push his luck before he lost you?

Before Forget Me Not realizes it, you've loosened your grip on his arm and returned to that previous moment of suffocating peace - the only difference is that you've gone from being deep in thought to troubled and miserable, one hair away from darting out the room and refusing to speak to him. At this, his pinky finger wraps around yours and neither of you mention it.

"Can't you... I don't know, do something else?"

"I could be doing my job, but alas, you're keeping me prisoner here." He says, like he's not delighted to be given your undivided attention. There are no complaints when you step on his foot with a huff, he deserved that one.

"I'm talking about the scales thing! You could wear gloves. If it happens when you get distracted then, I could hang around to make sure you stop in time." A pause, and then the sound of your voice becomes unsure and so very small. "Maybe if we covered them with bandages...? But that could be annoying. Band aids? No, no - too unprofessional. It would ruin the whole aesthetic you're going for."

You continue to trail off, coming up with many different ideas and solutions to a problem he caused. He doesn't understand why you'd even bother in the first place. For you to reciprocate the attention he gives you, to care about him? That's the hardest pill Forget Me Not has ever swallowed - it's something he twirls around with his tongue, as if deciding whether to poison himself with bliss or spit it out and continue latching on to his doubts and insecurities.

Outside, in front of everyone at The Walden, he's the one leading the crowd and talking for hours on end, commanding their attention and manipulating the flow of every conversation.

Behind closed doors, all he does is listen to every nonsensical thought, unnecessary opinion and strange anecdote you throw at him.

"...No, that won't work either." Absentmindedly, you fix and button his sleeve back into place.

You've grown used to his silence the same way you've adapted and grown used to his flaws.

"I mean, it worked on me - getting a little slap on the wrist whenever I started biting my nails, but..." Without even thinking, you rub circles with your thumb across his knuckles.

You might as well be the stupidest angel in heaven.

"Why don't you just get a hobby? That's good enough, right? It's been so long since I've heard you play piano, the one by the stage." And just like that, you're on your feet attempting to drag him outside for a demonstration. "You could teach me! That way, we get to do something fun and I get to keep an eye on you."

Forget Me Not knows he has nothing to offer to this world, but when his saint looks at him with such hope, he cannot refuse. The path to recovery seems almost doable when you bump your shoulder into his, challenging him to play the hardest song he knows.

The stars in your eyes whenever you recognize all the songs he plays becomes intoxicating, more so than the sweet, sweet revenge he's yearned for since he spiraled into decadence.

Some days, his patrons join with their own singing or humming, and he forgets that he hates each and every one of them for as long as his fingers dance across the keys - a momentary reprieve from the constant stream of negativity. It doesn't take long for his body to remember his training and soon, he's improvising.

A melody for gloomy, rainy days. A whimsical tune here and there for celebrations.

A song for you and himself - the first one he teaches you and the only one he plays in private, when he's all alone with nothing but his thoughts. Solitude has gone from a noose wrapped around his neck to the perfect time to compose and hone this long forgotten passion. For the first time in forever, he doesn't dread the silence of an empty room, the endless wait between his shifts at The Walden - not when he can simply fill them with more and more music.

And so, Forget Me Not plays, hoping that you'll continue to cheer him on. Hoping that this tiny spark you've ignited in him can truly become his salvation.

#reverse 1999 #reverse: 1999 #r1999 #reverse 1999 x reader #reverse 1999 fanfic #reverse 1999 forget me not #forget me not #outing myself as a huge fuckin religion/devotion as a metaphor for relationships freak #and as a hand freak as well. love it when the smallest acts of intimacy are the BIGGEST FUCKING DEALS for characters who are touchstarved #i love writing reader inserts from the pov of the character instead of the reader like #what goes in their head and shit??? THE INNER MONOLOGUES AND DRAMA ?????#FORGET ME NOT'S WHOLE ACT IS A COVER FOR THE FUCKING MESS HE IS WHEN YOU LOOK AT HIMMMMM!!!!!!!#soggiest wettest most pathetic man at manus vindictae #i hope i got his whole fuckin two faced and contradicting mentality across. mf is not having a good time healing but my GOD hes. trying #he hates you but he loves you but god he hates you so much but yeah he'll still worship the ground you walk on #the title is a pun btw. scales. musical scales. his snake scales #IM VERY SMART

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revasserium · 10 months

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I'm being a rebel and requesting Ikesen Masamune and barefoot 💜

send me one and a character u__u

hurricane (prompt: barefoot)

masamune; 1,813; fluff and... that's it; @violettduchess is quite possibly one of the only ppl who can get me to write for a fandom that i had no plans in joining BUT HERE I AM FOLKS. here the fuCK i am.

he has always been a hurricane.

there are moments in a person’s life big enough for a single choice to put them on a completely different path, and then — there are those moments, much smaller moments, adding up to that one, bigger, monumental, life-changing moment. this is one of the latter.

the moon is heaven bright, swinging low in a full-bellied sky, and insomnia had plagued you till you’d come into the inner gardens for refuge. at least here, it felt like you were stuck between the pages of a waking dream. so… sleep-adjacent, right? right.

you swing your feet off the edge of the pristinely mopped wooden walkways, your sketchbook propped in your lap, a charcoal pencil gliding over the smooth, moon-bleached pages. you let your hand take the drawing where it wants, and these days, there’s only one place that your hand (and, subsequently the rest of your mind and body) seems to want to go.

masamune.

he appears as fish-tail flicks of your wrist bring him to life on the pages, each sketch fluid and overlapping with the next, almost like the depiction of dance — the crinkle at the edge of his eye, the curve of his hand as he rests it on the hilt of one of his blades, the strong, graceful slope of his shoulders and back, the crescent moon curve of his lips as he smiles, ever light, ever teasing, in your direction.

“ah… is that what i look like?”

his voice makes you jump, and even now after all this time, it sets your heart racing in your chest as you whirl around to find his nose inches from yours, that self-same smile hinged across his damnably gorgeous lips.

“w-wh — why aren��t you sleeping?” is your stumbling, cobbled together response to being jump-scared in the middle of his castle pagoda, but it’s the best you could come up with. he only leans back, chuckling, his arms tucked into the long thin sleeves of his kosode as he casts his eye up towards the full moon, his expression for once devoid if mischief or calculation. it’s strange, seeing him like this, so still and so quiet, and something about it makes you go still too, wondering if this is what its like to be caught in the eye of the storm, where the quiet is only ever momentary and destruction dances just beyond where your mind can reach.

“i could ask the same of you, kitten. so tell me… why aren’t you sleeping?” he grins as he joins you, propping one arm on a bent knee, watching as you gather yourself, palms pressing to the pages of your sketchbook.

“i… i couldn’t sleep.” you look down at your own knees, and it strikes you then that your feet are still bare. you can’t help glancing at masamune, and sure enough, his feet are bare too. no wonder i hadn’t heard him coming.

but something about this sets you off, the sight of his bare feet next to yours, and even though it shouldn’t be so tantalizing a thing — the flicker of bare flesh, the hint of skin unseen— you feel like one of those ancient victorian maidens, blushing at the sight of bare ankles.

you can’t help it; you start to laugh.

and masamune, sitting beside you, finds himself transfixed, held still by the sound of your laughter, pouring from you like rainwater from a stream. so clear and beautiful it sets his body arrack with shivers.

“what?” he asks, quirking an eyebrow, “is there something on my face?”

at this, you pause, stifling your giggles with a hand pressed to your lips, and you look at him. your eyes meet, and not for the first time, you feel yourself falling into them — into him. even like this, his one blue eye is something of a miracle, a thing of celestial majesty. it wasn’t until you’d met him that you’d realized what blue eyes look like up close — up close, they are the shattered light of a millions stars, fractured and reformed and singing through a universe of endless dark to end up here, shining out from him and landing on you, and god — he’s looking at you like all those million, billion years of starlight had traveled the expanse of every galaxy just to look at you.

just to see you like he does now.

“no… there isn’t,” you say, whisper, more like, reaching out a hand to trace your thumb over the lid of his closed eye. he doesn’t push you away. instead, he leans in closer.

“then, what’s so funny, kitten?”

you simply shake your head, trying to swallow down your belly-full of laughter, your mind showing you a strobe-quick flash-forward of you trying to explain the concept of foot kinks and websites that cater to such 500 years in the future before deciding — no. alas, tonight is not the night you try to educate one date masamune on the intricacies of body part kinks. though no doubt he’d take it in stride. no — that thought too, you tamp down before you’ve the mind to follow it down into a deep, dark rabbit hole from whence you might never recover or be recovered.

“tell me, please…” he grins, a grin that is simultaneously plea and pleasure, and in it, you can hear the knife-sharp promise of desire, “i’d like to know if something other than me has the power to make you laugh so much.”

“it’s just —” you bite your lips, fighting for the words, “we’re both barefoot.”

he blinks. and you can tell that whatever he was expecting the answer to be, this is clearly not it.

you track the flitter of emotions as they dance in quicksilver steps across the planes of his face — surprise, confusion, amusement, all painted porcelain perfect on the dark of his brows, the faint twitch of his lips. finally, he settles on a sorted of muted bemusement as he cocks his head at you.

“and… do people of your time tend to sleep with socks on?”

“no, it’s just…” you blush again, unable to help yourself.

“just what?” his voice is light, and he is still.

you swallow, hard,

“just… it’s weird — i mean — it’s not like i haven’t seen anyone else barefoot before just… this was — you’re just — and i —” you trip over your words in a hurry and end up tumbling through into incoherence so fast all you can do to styme the flood is to clamp your mouth shut and pray.

oh god please… tell me this is a bad dream.

but when you open your eyes, masamune is still there, watching you with that singular eye of his, expression inscrutable. and still, he doesn’t move.

“so…” and finally, finally, the stillness breaks — he cracks it open like an eggshell, stretching himself out as he leans back, propping himself up on his elbows, lengthening till he’s splayed out over the gleaming wooden boards of the walkway, his face bathed in ghostly moonlight.

“i’m not the first man you’ve seen barefoot, hm? that is a problem.”

your mouth drops open and for a moment, you gape at him wordless and fish-like, and he laughs as he turns to look at you.

“tell me his name — i’ll have his head in the morning,” he says, in a voice so casually serious that for a moment you think he might actually mean it.

“masamune!”

and then, he’s laughing too, a big, bright, uproarious thing that shakes his entire body like the foundations of the earth. it is deep and rich and lovely, warm and sweet as sun-kissed honey. you let yourself be swept up in his laughter, dropping into silent giggles, and then something louder, letting your shoulder bump into his, your bodies finally touching and then —

there’s a flurry of clothing, a shifting of weights. you find yourself pulled into him, tipping towards him like inevitability.

your sketchbook lays forgotten on the walkway next to you as masamune holds you close against his chest.

“ah… i really don’t like that…”

an entourage of tingles frissons through your body at his words.

“don’t like what?”

“the fact that you’ve seen someone else barefoot before. it bugs me.”

you peer up at him, lifting your head ever so slightly from his chest. he’s looking at you, and the sunrise-blue of his eyes are shadowed with something darker now, something decidedly less innocent than just the thought of bare feet.

“then… what will you do about it?” you ask, feeling the heat of his body, the solidness of him, the rightness of you between his arms.

“hm… are you teasing me, kitten?” his voice is gravel and earthquake and you’re emboldened by the sound, by the way his pupil dilates, the black hole at the center of every galaxy — gravity made solid, made real.

“yes,” you breathe, leaning up like a dare and he meets you gloriously, his lips hard and pressing and soft and pulling. there’s a fire unspooling at the base of your spine, stoked by the heat and truth of him, so close, too close — you break apart gasping. he grins, lynx-like and wolfish as he grazes his teeth along the column of your throat.

“good,” he says, sighing into your flesh as you arch up into him, your fingers curling into his hair as he flips the pair of you over. he pulls you beneath him and he is storm and thunder, he is rain and wonder — he is water to your desert skies, the sunlit days to all your moonless nights.

and as he makes to rend you into pleasure, into nothing more than ache and belonging, he pulls back with a bone-deep growl, a sliver of hesitation, of self-preservation.

“are… are you sure you want this?” that you want me? the echo is not lost on you.

and it’s not the first time he’s asked you the question, and you have a feeling that it wouldn’t be the last. but you reply as you had, once upon a time, in a distant, sun-drenched afternoon, when you’d been telling him about one of your favorite poems from your time.

you smile, tug him down for a kiss.

“yes,” you say, like you’d done on that long-ago afternoon, “i want you — i want this, masamune. because… I love you.”

“i will love you when you are a still day… i will love you when you are a hurricane.”

#ikemen sengoku #ikesen #ikemen series #date masamune #ikemen sengoku x reader #ikesen masamune #date masamune x reader #ikemen sengoku imagines #ikemen sengoku headcanons #ikesen imagines #ikesen headcanons #floofy floof floof #OKAY but the feeling of tagging a REAL HISTORICAL FIGURE LFMAO #vi i blame u for all the bullshit im about to rain on this damn fandom LOL i havent played these games in YEARS i tell u #is this IC? IDK WHO KNO WHO CARE lol #i hope u liked it u_u #ALL CREDIT WHRE CREDIT IS DUE that last line comes from clementine von radics #i love her poetry pls go read it; this one comes from her collection called 'mouthful of forevers' its SO GOOD GO READ IT #doNT tease me with humans as metaphors for natural disasters man i will fucking GOBBLE that shit up #i love it almost as much as i love sky/star/sun/moon/ocean/general astronomy anaologies

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aceofnace · 10 months

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The metaphors involving a ferret this season are top-notch.

“So you let a beloved, domesticated ferret go.”

“He chose to be free. Twice.”

No, Ace, he didn’t.

Sure, the first time was Chunky’s choice. He escaped on his own and proceeded to run freely around town (harassing Connor, mostly), purposely choosing not to return home.

Kinda like Nancy right after she left Ace’s apartment at the end of 3x13. Knowing they were cursed and that the curse could kill Ace, Nancy chose to free herself from him. She avoided going back to him (her home) for over a month and all was good (in the way that, you know, her distance was keeping him alive).

Until Ace caught her, much like he caught Chunky in 4x06. With Chunky, Ace caught him and kept him in a literal cage. With Nancy, he caught her and convinced her to try with him. To try to break the curse so they could be together. He trapped her in a figurative cage—one full of hope and promises of a happy, perfect future with one another.

And then he let both of them go.

Except neither one wanted that.

Chunky, who’d been spending days (or weeks?) living the best life he could on his own, had finally accepted that he couldn’t keep running forever. Eventually, he’d have to go home. Because that’s where he belonged. And he was ready to go. That’s why, when Ace opened the door to the cage, Chunky didn’t budge. He didn’t bolt out of it squeaking free at last!!! Again!!!. No. Ace had to reach in, grab him, and pull him out, getting bitten in the process.

Because after all of this, Chunky did not want to be free anymore.

It’s just like with Nancy. Being so afraid that trying to break the curse again would kill her, Ace backed down and he put a stop to all of it. And he opened the figurative cage door to set her free. To allow her to move on. To be with someone else.

But Nancy, like Chunky, had also finally accepted that she couldn’t keep running forever. She loves Ace. She’s in love with him. He is her person. Her soulmate. She’s never felt this way about anyone else before. He gave her the best kiss of her life (canon!). She can’t just casually exit the cage she’d been put in and leave behind that future with him that she so desperately wants.

So, she, like Chunky, bit him.

Not literally, of course, but after it’s confirmed that Ace saw her dancing with Tristan, she tells him they shared an intense experience and that she doesn’t know how she feels about it yet. She apologizes for that. And then later, she tells him point blank that she wants Ace to let her move on. I can assure you, those words hurt way more than any ferret bite ever could. Those were the words Ace had been asking to hear, but once he’d heard them, they ripped him apart inside.

Nancy doesn’t mean those words, though. It’s why she can’t look him in the eye as she says them. But if he’s going to force her out of her cage, she’s going to make sure to hurt him first. To remind him that this is his choice, not hers.

So, where are we now by the end of 4x07? Both Nancy and Chunky are free again. Chunky will most likely return to rifling through Connor’s trash cans and appearing on the occasional Ring camera footage. As for Nancy? She’ll most likely try to move on with Tristan. Both will temporarily live the life Ace has chosen for them while they eventually attempt to find their way home.

While Ace works on healing the scars left behind from both of them.

#seriously though #i did not have ferret metaphors on my season 4 bingo card #the way the writers put so much thought into this shit #gotta love it #nace #nancy x ace #ace x nancy #nancy drew cw

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bluebugjay · 4 months

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me: wow I really like this song, let me look up the lyrics to understand it better :)

me (stupid) after looking up the lyrics: what the fuck does this mean

#i just never know #it usually takes a few read throughs and then listening to the song a bunch more times over about a two week period and maybe MAYBE then #i'll have some kind of 'ohhhhh' moment #fucking love lyrics so much though #love poetry and metaphors and people expressing shit in super weird personal unique ways #the amazing devil #my chemical romance #fall out boy

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sualne · 4 months

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Never thought about vampires the way you did with op vamp au thank you so muchfor opening my eyes

im pretty much always using monsters to explore neurodivergence & disability, im fond of vampires because you can always make something new and fun with them!

#op vamp au #vampasks #in my ocs world vampirism is a curse born from the god of nothingness' desire to exist. the paradox messes up ppl pretty bad #and its all about recovering from being emptied. full recovery isn't heard of and it's about learning how to live again with that new #condition. its a recurring theme in my stories and so i took that again with the op au. since my ocs one are more empty/shadow based #i really wanted to have the op one being blood (for me) and will based (cause op is all about will) and thats fun to explore #also i love the concept of mindlink ive never really seen it explore too much so i wanted to try that! and since its about disability and #trauma have it be dissociation/depersonalisation inspired #also dont vibe with the 'this is a metaphor for this' like no. this is inspired by this lets explore that shit. exaggerate here change that #make shit up entirely ect

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everysongineverykey · 8 months

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what the fuck do you mean soul brother is about brian may. what do you MEAN freddie mercury wrote a song about brian harold may that went "he's my best friend, he's my champion, and he will rock you, rock you, rock you, cause he's the saviour of the universe, he can make you keep yourself alive, make you keep yourself alive, cause he's somebody, somebody you can love" what do you mean he just wrote that and then casually told brian may about it in the studio one day and was like surprise! i've written a song about you, but it needs your touch! break out that guitar! what do yuo mean they both wrote songs aimed at each other at least once but brian wrote so many for freddie he can't remember which one he was working on at the time. WHAT DO YOU MENA

#queen band #THAT'S SO. THAT'S SO #that's the sweetest fucking thing holy shit they really were besties huh #that's genuinely sooo. cause like i don't think freddie ever wrote songs for any of his other friends!#his lovers sure but as far as i know brian's the only one who got a song dedicated to him #(i mean. he says that he's not sure whether it's actually about him or not but like. why would freddie lie about that?)#'god bless my soul here he comes now / the man with the most how does he do it? / sure he's got style he's so heavy / he's a trip'#'he can do anything anything / cause he's my soul brother'#that's so genuine and sweet and encouraging!!! no flowery metaphors #no poetry or cryptic lyrics #just freddie mercury going I LOVE YOU!! I LOVE YOU!!! YOU'RE MY BEST FRIEND!! YOU'RE SOOO COOL!!! SEE HOW MUCH I LOVE YOU???#for three and a half minutes. it makes me SICK #btw if you tag this as ship it is on SIGHT ok thanks xoxo #and the way most of the queen songs he references were written by brian. godddd #he just wrote that for no reason at all‼️‼️ fucked UP!!!!

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arson-09 · 4 days

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thinking about the idiot at pitchfork that gave unreal unearth only a 5/10 and then proceeded to write the worst music review/explanation/critique thing i have ever seen in my entire life

and ive been a reader for years, i have read many reviews of differing quality

and that was SO bad

#unreal unearth unheard #unreal unearth #THE WASTELAND BABY ONE IS SOOOOO BAD TOO #hozier #andrew hozier byrne #wasteland baby!#the worst part imo was bro yapping about icarion carrian and said hozier got his metaphors and greek mythos mixed #with icarus (duh) and atlas with the holding up the world but last my ass checked atlas held the SKY up #i love greek mythos and i have read many different tales but i cant recall mf holding the whole ass world up #reviewer tried to pull an um actually🤓☝️ and failed MISERABLY #Also they said the held frozen like an angel like basically made no sense and i was dumbfounded #pitchfork is run by idiots actually #AND THE REVIEWERS WONT LET TAKE ME TO CHURCH GO??? THEY GO HE TRIED TO RECREATE IT AND FAILED #NO SHIT HES NOT TRYING TO RECREATE TMTC HES GOT THAT POINT ACROSS HES GOT OTHER SHIT TO WRITE #i love tmtc SO much but the reviewers need to let it go

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lazy-toad · 1 year

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The thing is, is that no matter how it's presented, all religious horror is Corruption coded to me. It can be aligned strongly with other fears, sure, but at the core of it it's Corruption.

#i love the more metaphorical side of the corruption so much #dirt and bugs and stuff is cool but the metaphorical corruption is top teir shit #tma #the magnus archives #the corruption

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wander-wren · 8 months

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wrt to the “adam shouldve been a visionary” dreamer trilogy/greywaren post i’ve seen a few times (possibly reblogged?)….well, maybe, but also no.

it’s not that i don’t have my own gripes with tdt (namely, yes, not enough adam), but i just…i can’t get behind visionary adam. not canon visionary, anyway.

like. you’re telling me ronan “the choice was death or hurting adam, which wasnt a choice at all” lynch would have handled it with ANY amount of grace if adam “i will be your hands. i will be your eyes” parrish was given the ultimatum “hurt others every time you have a vision and live, or turn the visions inward and quickly die horribly”??? no!!

and maybe in this alternate version of tdt that’s the whole point, yknow. if that’s what you want, ABSOLUTELY go ahead, dream on about it, write the fic, send it to me i’d love to see. etc etc etc

but the point of the dreamer trilogy is that it’s about ronan. so if we’re keeping with that vision (ha), and with the basic premise of the series, then no, i don’t think visionary adam is a good idea.

which begs the question…what WOULD i have adam do?

[disclaimer i read each book as they came out and havent done full rereads since so my memory is spotty, pls correct anything i get wrong]

in all honesty i would keep call down the hawk essentially as it is bc i think it was good. it takes place during november, no? so potentially add in/exchange a shorter adam moment for thanksgiving break. he can help scry and figure out psychic things and be distrustful of bryde.

have winter break be during part of mister impossible. seriously where are adam’s school breaks lmao. adam is relentlessly practical and cares about ronan and he should be here to sow doubt and try to curb some of ronan’s more ecoterrorist tendencies. ronan can sneak around and hide from him and there can be tension and worry and anger. but also a lot of good pynch feelings still, ofc, bc its Them.

but don’t worry! they can still have a big fight/falling out over the ley lines/bryde/the ecoterrorism before adam leaves for school again. as silly as it is that ronan freaked out over an unread text when adam was literally napping, maybe this time it’s deliberate. or maybe adam really was napping again, or driving, or whatever. the rest of mister impossible can play out from there, or a condensed/reshuffled version of it to accommodate adam being there for a while.

greywaren can start the same, but for the love of god let ronan get out faster it is HIS BOOK. i do like henessey helping him do that i think its an important part of her character, and adam’s part in all that was very good and angsty so i wouldnt change it, but i would have it happen in the first half. ronan and adam make up and go off to do whatever was happening by the end of greywaren tbh i got confused. or something totally different! who knows.

also i just want to see adam interact with the actual visionaries and with carmen and henessey more and with bryde i think it would be very cool. very fun.

i also think gansey/blue/henry shouldve shown up literally ever at all but idk how they fit in so shh

#wren wrambles #the raven cycle #the dreamer trilogy #greywaren #call down the hawk #mister impossible #ronan lynch #adam parrish #pynch #i love maggie and i think she does Lots Of POVs And Happenings well ie in the raven king #but like #greywaren just felt like too much to me a little bit #i feel like there were too many things where i was like ‘wait why is this here did we Need another plot thread mstief’#or ‘wait can we. can we explain/explore/elaborate on that? no? oh. okay then’#but i digress #i do appreciate that this is ronan’s story and it’s important to his arc that he make mistakes and figure shit out on his own #or with henessey #something something its a metaphor. barely. its fairly literal #yknow when you grow up and go to college or a job or whatever and you dont have your hs friends around 24/7 #and you have to figure out who you are without them #for better or for worse. and you still love them but. theyre not There. you have to find new people and a new You #right? right #adam is important and should be there more bc hes Dating Ronan but i am also perfectly fine with them being separate a fair amount #i feel like you could do even more with this but tbh its almost 5am and i havent slept bc i was going to #but i had to write this down #so its not exactly perfectly thought out

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