#love how inhuman a lot of these designs are

[youngpettyqueen]

the designs in TAS are genuinely so cool. like yeah theyre kinda silly but they were genuinely so creative with them and really shot for the moon with some of these. its really cool to see

#star trek: tas #the plant aliens in The Infinite Vulcan are very cool #love how inhuman a lot of these designs are #harpy-like aliens and cat people there's a DRAGON ON MY SCREEN

[anexperimentallife]

The Gaza genocide is going exactly according to the US Evangelical Fundamentalist Christian agenda, with which they hope to wipe out all Jews and Muslims

To anyone raised in the US Evangelical Fundamentalist Christian Dominionist movement in the US, the horror and inhumanity, the genocide Israel is engaged in against Palestinians right now is not a surprise. We all KNEW this was coming, and those of us who got out of the movement we were raised in have been trying to raise the alarm for decades, mostly to either deaf ears, or accusation of antisemitism.

(Because, they would say, "if you don't support Zionism, and stand behind everything Israel does, you must hate all Jews!" Ignoring that many Jews all over the world--yes, including many Israeli Jews--do not support Israel's foreign policy.)

Because everything in the orbit of Israel is going exactly to the Evangelical Fundamentalist Christian Doomsday plan--a plan that has been OPENLY talked about in Fundie circles since I was a little kid being indoctrinated into it.

In case you're not familiar, let me break down the Fundie thinking here:

Their support of Israel and embrace of Zionism is based around their beliefs that:

a) the return of Jews to Israel, and then Israel/all "unconverted" Jews being completely wiped out in an apocalyptic war, is essential to Jesus' return.

b) but that any nation that DIRECTLY opposes Israel will fall even if they defeat Israel. So that in order to fulfill prophecy, they must

c) set someone ELSE up to wipe out Israel/the Jews.

(To go into more detail: They believe that "the Jews were God's original chosen people until Christians took their place in God's favor when the Jews denied Jesus." But that God is still attached to his former faves and will punish anyone who wipes them out--thus the entire fundie idea is to get someone ELSE to do it, then serve as "the instrument of God's vengeance" by genociding the genociders.)

So they support Israel's increasing violence intentionally to create greater and greater conflict and turn more of Israel's neighbor states against them, meanwhile fostering the idea that with the power of the US backing them, they cannot fail.

And here's their next planned phase--maybe not today, maybe not tomorrow, but eventually

Once things reach a tipping point, the Fundies (currently the single most powerful force in US politics, thanks to ANOTHER multi-generational plan openly talked about in Fundie circles, which was specifically designed to put Fundies amd their allies in powerful positions) will force the US to pull support from Israel so that its neighbors can destroy it, then use that destruction as a pretext for their own genocide against remaining Muslim/Arab (there is little distinction between the two in their minds) peoples.

Christian Fundamentalist support of Zionism has always been about the elimination of both Jews and Muslims, and bringing about a Christian/Capitalist (aka fascist) world.

They emphasize that they LOVE Jews, and maybe don't even entirely HATE the "evil Muslims," but that this is "God's will," and that they have no choice but to obey. They'll even shed crocodile tears about how sad all this is, but believe me--they are CELEBRATING inside. They are OVERJOYED, because they think this will bring about the Rapture, the end of the world, the Thousand Year Reign, and all the other crap in their shitty Doomsday prophecy.

(This is also their excuse for every other group they are trying to destroy. "Oh, I personally have nothing against the gays, but I have to follow God's will. Plus our children need to be protected from their recruitment efforts." During slavery, then segregation, Black folks were often said to have "the mark of Ham, meaning God said they were DESTINED to be slaves because of Ham's sin. Oh, WE'RE not saying it; GOD is!" See also: child marriage, and lots of other talking points.)

Don't believe me? Ask around on the EXvangelical tags. Listen in at some of the more conservative churches in your area. There are a lot of us who were raised being brainwashed with these ideas and had to deprogram ourselves.

#exvangelical

[linkspooky]

The Next Gojo Satoru

As you've probably guessed I have a lot to say about this chapter. However, right away I want to start out by pointing out once again that the fandom is taking a mostly gojo-centric view of this chapter. Which I understand it's Gojo's body that's being puppeteered around and dehumanized in the exact same way that Kenjaku one of the sickest and most inhuman characters used Geto's body.

However I think it shouldn't be understated how shocking it is to see Yuta betray all of his values like this. The most human character who represents love in the cast has given up on the cast and betrayed someone he loves. So let's talk about what this all means for Yuta under the cut.

GOJO GETS AN F IN TEACHING.

I understand why most of the focus is on Gojo, because yes Gojo's body is the one being violated here. He's not even allowed to rest in death after fighting on the front lines against Sukuna to the point where his brain was hemmoraging in the middle of battle and he was brutally cut in half.

Considering how much horror Gojo experienced when he saw Geto's body taken from him and made into Kenjaku's pupet. Cosidering the horrible pain that Nanako and Mimiko endured just seeing Geto's body still moving around denied a good death (Nanako and Mimiko were tellingly willing to let go and not try to take revenge against Gojo for killing Geto because of their friendship even though Geto was their whole world, but they'd never forgive Kenjaku for taking his body). Considering that Gojo even went out of his way to say he wanted to kill Kenjaku / Geto on Christmas Eve again in order to give him a proper burial it's understandable how horrifying this update is.

This is also a series where the two main antagonists are parasites who take the bodies, and steal away all bodily autonomy from characters like Yuji and Megumi and then force them to do horrible things they would never do and bear witness to it, such as the slaughter at Shibuya, or the murder of Tsumiki at Megkuna's hands.

It's understandable how people had such a visceral reaction to this chapter. However, I think the fandom has a tendency to paint Gojo like he's the central victim of all of Jujutsu Society when he's both victim and perpetrator.

Gojo is someone who has only been regarded as the strongest his entire life, and been used as a tool to keep Jujutsu Society stable his entire life. Gojo is also someone who never tried to be anything other than the strongest, never tried to empathize with anyone other than those who were just as strong as he is, and who raised all of his students to be tools too.

To illustrate my point here's an incredibly similiar character from Tokyo Ghoul: Arima Kishou. They are so similiar that they're both white haired mentor characters to the protagonist, they're both the strogest in their respective worlds, and Gege straight up copied this section of panels from the Tokyo Ghoul Manga.

Arima is a breeding project, who was bred by the Washuu Family who mxies blood between humans and ghouls through a series of controlled marriages for the purpose of creating hybrid ghoul human children. Arima isn't the ideal hybrid they were looking for, but he was so ungodly talented he quickly rose to being the most powerful and well-respected investigator in the CCG.

However, this is how Arima reacts to the fact that his entire purpose in life was just to be a weapon to kill ghouls.

Arima loathes violence, he loathes being an investigator, he loathes himself most of all and designs his entire political revolution around him finally being killed by Kaneki - to punish himself and also to relieve himself of the burden of living a life where he was only meat to kill others.

Gojo on the other hand loves being the strongest, he lives for Jujutsu. Arima's death is tragic and nihilistic believing his life had no real worth because all he ever was was a weapon to hurt others, whereas Gojo died satisfied.

Arima's last battle against Kaneki is grim, silent, and tragic, he does everything he can to make Kaneki despise him, to force Kaneki to kill him by being the worst version of himself and when Kaneki still wants him to live he just slits his own throat because even if Kaneki forgives him he can't forgive himself. Gojo laughs his head off and has the time of his life fighting against Sukuna, and going out in a blaze of glory.

Gojo dies smiling, Arima dies finally breaking into tears after a life of pretedig to be cold and emotionless. Gojo's dying regret is 1) that Geto wasn't there to say goodbye to him, and 2) that he wasn't able to draw out all of Sukuna's strength. Arima's dying regret was all the pain and suffering he caused throughout his life and how he was never able to rise above his circumstances and be anything other than what he was born to be.

These two characters are incredibly similiar, they are both the strongest, and they were both made into tools by a dehumanizing system they were born into. However, their attitudes are entirely different. Gojo enjoys being strong, and yes part of it is that Gojo himself doesn't realize he's a victim or what society has groomed him into becoming, but the other part is just because it's an ego trip for him. Gojo doesn't see himself as the tragic victim his fandom makes him out to be.

If you were to transplant him into Tokyo Ghoul Gojo would be happily killing ghouls, and he would think killing ghouls is fun because he's the strongest and best at killing ghouls. This is the complexity that is Satoru Gojo, he has been dehumanized and put on a pedestal his ow life, but Gojo also enjoys being on that pedestal and won't ever step down from it willingly.

I'm not saying that Arima is a better person than Gojo. I think the fact that Gojo doesn't think of himself as a victim is tragic in its own right, because he lacks the self-awareness to actually grow and change as a person. In the end both Arima and Gojo believe they couldn't be anything better than what they were, and their only release is death which is just insanely sad to me because as long as the future exists people always have a chance to get better no matter who they are. To give up on the future, to see an early death as a good thing simply because you can't endure life any longer is one of the most hopeless things imaginable.

Gojo's not sad because he was born to be a tool exploited for society's benefit, he's sad because he was lonely. He doesn't even realize it's his own darn fault he's lonely, because not only has Shoko said that he's not alone she's always been right there, but this chapter we get a repeat of Gojo's students begging him to let them in and Gojo himself decided to draw that line between himself and others and thinking an enlightened, godlike being like himself can't possibly be understood.

All of this to say I think Gojo is the sole victim here, but he's the middle of a chain of of victimhood. I think ultimately the biggest victim here is Yuta, and yes I will not only play trauma olympics here I'm going to win.

If this chapter goes to show anything it's that Gojo has completely failed in his ideals of protecting the youth from the dehumanizing system of sorcerers that takes children and reduces them to cogs in a machine.

A lot of people criticize Jujutsu Kaisen for dropping basically all of its political elements and themes of reform in the second half after Shibuya, and while I understand the criticism I think Gege intentionally shifted away from politics because Gojo's political revolution was never going to succeed.

From the beginning Gojo's solution to reforming Jujutsu Society and it's habit of taking away the youth of children and raising them up instead as child soldiers is... to make stronger child soldiers.

This is Gojo's blindspot and it has always been Gojo's blindspot.

It's why Gojo is completely okay with someone like Mei Mei who at the best uses her brother as a human shield to get out of curse domains and has stolen his entire childhood away to make him own pet little shoulder, and at worst actively molests him.

It's why Gojo is stated in the databooks to have only taken an interest in Megumi and Yuta because they were strong.

Gojo understands that he's being exploited by Jujutsu Society, but doesn't understand you need to deconstruct unfair systems of power and exploitation in order to build something better. Gojo from the beginning only had one plan, and that was to replace the people at the top with his own allies who'd support his agenda. He just thought waiting for them to die out and the children to grow up was the more peaceful way of doing it.

Gojo's political revolution was doomed from the beginning and that's why we see him go back on his word this chapter and just slaughter everyone at the top. His choice of a new leader for Jujutsu Society is hardly better than the elders, the person who executed Gojo's teacher and tried to get all the children to kill Itadori early on. Good choice.

This is what Gojo said would happen though, if he just wiped everyone out at the top no real systemic change would occur because they'd just be replaced with someone who wasn't that differet. Gojo's just given up on the notion of lasting change out of pragmatism.

Which is why Gojo himself is not that different from the elders in the first place, not because he's a bad person but because he was shaped by that same society and he's the pinnacle of that society.

I think the thing is and this point often gets ignored - a lot of the choices the elders make are because of outdated traditions like choosing to oppress Maki and Toji just because they challenge the traditional notions of cursed energy.

However, some of the decisions they make are out of cold hard pragmatism. Gakuganji actually turned out to be right in his assassiation attempt against Yuji Itadori. If they had succesfully killed Yuji, then the massacre in Shibuya would have been prevented and likely Kenjaku's plans would have been pushed back. The elders didn't sentence Yuta to execution just to be cruel, or just because they're superstitious but because he's already had several incidents of nearly killing people because he can't control Rika.

It's easy to dismiss the Elders as evil because they're just faceless entities, but then we witness in this very same chapter the main characters making the same heartless decisions out of the same sense of pragmatism.

Gojo understands Jujutsu Society is flawed, but doesn't understand exactly why it's wrong. He doesn't raise his students to be independent free thinkers because then they might question him, he raises them to be very powerful because that's more pragmatic.

Here are the next generation of sorcerers who are going to bring about the change to Jujutsu Society that Gojo so desperately seeks.

Nobara Kugisaki: Dead

Hakari Kinji: His greatest ambition is to start a fight club

Yuji: Actively calls himself a mindless cog and just wants to kill whatever society points him at and tells him to kill.

Maki: Mass murderer.

Yuta: Just stole Gojo's body and said he had to become a monster i Gojo's place.

Megumi: Begging to be killed.

Inumaki: Tuna Mayo

Panda: Is a Panda

(Joke lovingly ripped off from @kaibutsushidousha)

I understand that fighting Sukuna takes precedence now, but do you think once the dust settles any of these characters are going to do anything to make lasting change?

Are we going to see anything for them at the end of the road other than a mountain of their fellow sorcerers corpses?

Gojo didn't nurture his students to grow into healthy adults, he raised them into stronger child soldiers and yes that's the pragmatic thing to do to help them survive in the Jujutsu World, but the elders make those decisions out of cold pragmatism as well.

MHA is also showing a story where the children are failing to learn from the previous generatio's mistakes, but it's far less frustrating to watch in JJK because it almost seems like that's the point?

Maki sacrificed Mai for the sake of becoming someone strong enough to reform the Zen'in Clan, only for her sister to die and Maki to slaughter the rest of her family failing in both her goals to reform her clan and protect Mai.

Yuji became the host of Sukuna in order to help others, because the total deaths of people in the world would go down if he ate all the fingers. Not only did that decision lead to the death of thousands in Shibuya, but he's even lost his role of being Sukuna's host to Megumi.

Yuta wanted to find a reason to live and a purpose in protecting his friends, and also wanted to pay back the man who saved him, not only is Yuta choosing to die in a way that breaks his friends heart he's also violating his beloved teacher's bodies.

There's a lot of arcs like this where characters fail in what they set out to accomplish, because like in most tragedies they don't try to grow as people they only care about getting stronger. It's the same choice over ad over again, a decision made of cold pragmatism that brings about their tragic ending.

I think it speaks to why systems like this perpetuate themselves, because it becomes so hard to hold onto your humanity that even trying gets you actively punished all the while people like Mei Mei crawl to the top. However, even if you throw your humanity away purely as an act of survival you're still helping perpetuate that system instead of fighting against it.

Anyway, that's enough hating on Gojo, onto the main event.

THE NEXT GOJO SATORU.

It's almost masterful how perfect the foreshadowing for this chapter's twist was. Yuta sharing a common ancestor in Sugawara with Gojo.

The irony that Kenjaku said out loud that someone like Yuta could never become Gojo, on top of the fact that Yuta's true power comes from detaining his loved ones soul. He's turning Gojo's body into a weapon the same way that he once used Rika's vengeful cursed spirit as one (he even channels her strength into a sword, the same way Maki uses the sword that Mai gave her life to create in battle).

The way that Yuji's first impression of Yuta from his powerful presence and cursed energy alone was calling him someone even creepier than Gojo.

The idea that Kenjaku has been trying to get his hands on the six-eyes for years, which is what led most of the fandom to theorize a possible Kenjaku return by stealing Gojo's corpse. The fact Tengen said the six eyes, himself and the star plasma vessel are all connected and one time Kenjaku killed the six-eyes from a child only for another one to appear right away.

Yuta being told he could never reach Sukuna's heights because he lacks the selfishness of a calamity.

Even Yuta trying to tell a nameless assassin Uro to be less selfish, only to be chastised by her for not understanding because it's impossible for someone as blessed as he is to know what it's like to not have a name, to not have a face, to not be someone important.

Now here Yuta is, not only is he making the selfish decision to use his teacher's body as a tool, he's also most likely in five minutes going to die in someone else's body, having sacrificed not only his name, and face, but also his personal values in order to become a monster.

This arc makes it seem like Yuta's gone against everything he's stood for, making his arc a complete circle from Jujutsu Kaisen Zero and that's kind of the point. Heck, even something as small as Yuta's decision to show mercy to Ishigori was rendered pointless because Sukuna immediately killed him soon after taking Megumi's body.

If Yuta's regressed in his character it's because Gojo's purpose was not to raise these children into healthy adults, but strong soldiers.

What happened to Yuta is a direct consequence of the way Gojo recruits these children, and the underhanded motivations he has behind those recruitments.

Yuta's decision to take Gojo's body is more tragic on Yuta's part then it is on Gojo's, because Yuta is a child, and Gojo is an adult.

It is sad that Gojo is all alone, that he's forced to become a tool to society, but Yuta shouldn't be the one who feels responsible for that. Gojo is supposed to protect Yuta, he's the adult, the teacher, the one with power and Yuta is the child. Yuta is not the one who should be making this speech because it is not Yuta's responsibility to do any of this - but Yuta thinks it is because he owes Gojo.

However, when Gojo recruits people it's with the unspoken implication that they now owe him. He wants them to feel indebted, because then they'll be easier to use as pieces in his intended political revolution. We see this blatantly with the way he recruited Megumi.

I'll make sure you and your sister don't starve but you owe me in the form of labor later on in your life.

Gojo saved Yuta because he thought Rika was powerful and the elders were foolish for executing a potentially powerful sorcerer for THE GREATER GOOD instead of teaching him to control his power out of fear. Gojo recruited Yuji, because someone with Sukuna's power and who could eat his fingers as a vessel had the makings to be an incredibly powerful sorcerer. Gojo didn't even think of Megumi until after Geto defected, and Gojo decided he needed to start making changes to Jujutsu Society.

While Gojo's pragmatism is understandable to a point it also poisons his more nobler intentions. Since Gojo expects payment in return when he sticks his neck out for people, because these children are assets first and children secod.

I think Gojo likes Yuta. I think he gets along with him well. Yuta clearly respects him as a mentor. He did in fact go to great lengths to save Yuta from execution. He was right that it was more ethical to teach Yuta to control his powers rather than execute him for the danger he might represet. He even gives Yuta emotional advice a couple of times.

However, if Yuta was just like a grade 4 sorcerer with no special talent I doubt Gojo would have blinked at his execution. He sees Yuta for his talent first, and his potential to become someone like him. If anythig there are clear comparisons to both Megumi and Yuta. They're both prodigies born with incredible techniques, but Yuta is a lot more receptive to Gojo's grooming than Megumi is who's too traumatized to function. Gojo's not just grooming Yuta into being a powerful sorcerer, but another version of himself.

So it's almost karmic that not only does Yuta basically turn his back on everything that makes Yuta himself (his love for people, his desire to live and be surrounded by others), he also does so by literally becoming Satoru Gojo and transplanting his brain into Gojo's body.

Because Yuta is despite possessing a similiar level of talent as far from Gojo as possible. Gojo is not well liked by his comrades, he's there because he's needed due to his power. Yuta on the other hand has everyone vehemently disagreeing with his backup plan in the event of Gojo's death because they don't want to lose him.

People need Gojo, they want Yuta because of the connections that Yuta has made with them and because they care about Yuta as a person. Gojo is someone who deliberately draws a line between himself and others because he believes the strongest can't be comprehended, Yuta only fights for the sake of being accepted by others because he needs their approval in order to live.

Yuta's now turned his back on those two things, his tendency to put his loved ones first, and his desire to live, both because he feels he owes Gojo.

This comes about because of two factors, number one Gojo helping him with the implication that this help means that Yuta owes him something which makes Yuta desperate to pay him back and therfore easy to mold, and number two Gojo's intentions to begin with to take Yuta and make another Gojo out of him. To make a successor who would carry on the same burdens that Gojo did.

Gojo succeeded one hundred percent in making his successor as opposed to Megumi who turned out to be too different from Gojo i the end. He took what make Yuta unique and ironed out all those wrinkles until he was left with someone willing to make the same inhumane, pragmatic decisions that Gojo was.

I think it's tragic that as much as Gojo wanted to make things better for the next generation, he basically led Yuta down the same road he did, to make the same choice to throw his humanity away along with all of his loved ones. Especially since Yuta started out in such a different place.

Yuta has learned to become selfish like Gojo, because selfishness is apparently now the only way to get by in this world. A cycle that has been started with the elders, and continued on with Gojo, remains unbroken as Yuta becomes just another link in the chain. Yuta's likely going to die in a stranger's body, leaving all of his friends behind to mourn him, but even if he lives what life will that be exactly?

It speaks to the arcs in Jujutsu Kaisen that they're all kind of circles at this point. We have this heartwarming goodbye of Rika telling Yuta to live, and Yuta's whole arc was to learn to try to live without Rika and make new friends, but it's now likely goig to end with Yuta dying a year after Rika finally moved on.

Choso was told to try living on as a human and Yuki even sacrificed her life to give him the opportuity to escape the fight, and he only lived a month longer to die right in front of Yuji's eyes.

Gojo put all of his hope in the next generation, but now not only did he put all the power in Gakuganji's hands but he ended up dying a year after Geto did just like Yuta will likely die a year after Rika.

I think these character arcs are turning out to be circles because the characters aren't actually doing anything to try to break the cycles that they're trapped inside of - they're only trying to get stronger. Which is why they end up resembling the actions of the villains, Yuji becoming more curselike, Yuta stealing Gojo's body the way Kenjaku did with Geto's.

It reminds me of a quote from Critical Role that I absolutely adore.

“I have just taken an audience with the Raven Queen who has snuffed any hope of my redemption, for which I am truly grateful. With new clarity, I can finally see my life as a series of compounding, poor choices.” Vax winces. “There was nothing I could’ve done to save my family, yet I still sold my soul in search of vengeance. Later I allowed Ripley to leave, knowing full well she was a greater threat to the world than the Briarwoods would ever be. I traded the world’s safety for the belief that I could murder my way to peace; that if I could be a greater horror, it would bring my family back. And once this lie was shattered I scrambled to find asolution, to make a deal, to undo my mistakes and balance the scales. I nowunderstand that there are no scales, there is no redemption, and no ledger that judges me good or evil. I am free to simply be myself and live with the terrible mistakes I’ve made."

Especially this sentence: I believed I could murder my way to peace; that if I could be a greater horror, it would bring my family back.

Maki is a character that I have not found all that interesting in a while because she committed such a huge mass murder, only for it to have no consequences in the narrative and never be mentioned again, but this chapter she suddenly became an interesting character again.

Maki who lost everything but gained strength, doesn't seem all that bothered by the loss. People compare Megumi's reaction to losing Tsumiki to Maki's reaction to losing Mai, but Megumi's reaction is much more interesting because it's always better to see a character be weak and fall apart then to be strong and power through things.

However, maybe the reason Maki hasn't experienced any grief at all towards Mai and has instead delighted in her newfound strength and independence is because of this, because she still had Yuta.

Maki is a character who's not really said anything other than exposition the past like twenty chapters, but now she's the most vocally against Yuta sacrificing himself for the greater good. Yet this is against Maki's own ideology of doing everything you can to be stronger, to win. Maki was always about individualism, not about friendship or the bonds between others, she severed her own bonds to be free. Yet, she can't stand to see Yuta do the same thing as her, to become more like her.

This might be the consequence of Maki's continued choice to value freedom and the power to achieve that freedom over all else. Now, the one time Yuta is trying to throw away the same things that she threw away she can't say anything meaningful or convince him to stop him.

Which reminds painfully of this chapter as well.

Mai killing herself in order to free Maki from cursed energy is an obvious parallel to Sukuna devouring his own twin in the womb, but the difference is in this situation Maki didn't want Mai to go, she begged her not to. However, just like with Yuta there was nothing Maki could ahve said or done by that point to convince Mai to stay. Maki has always chosen power over her sister, she's always abandoned Mai, so what exactly can she say to convince her that she cares more about Mai more? That her dream of defeating the Zen'in and having revenge against them isn't worth the price if it comes at the sacrifice of Mai?

Maki didn't want to abandon Mai, or for Mai to sacrifice herself, but tragically her every action indicated otherwise. It all comes down to this: I believed I could murder my way to peace; that if I could be a greater horror, it would bring my family back.

Maki seems to have achieved peace by murdering the Zen'in, but we see the same kind of circular arc that we have for Yuta.

Maki gave up on everything for strength, but Maki's not strong enough to finish Sukuna then and there, forcing Yuta to sacrifice himself the same way Mai did.

Maki can't talk Yuta out of making that sacrifice, or come up with any convincing argument with why he shouldn't because of all the choices she's made before this.

Maki chose to murder her way to peace, but it came at the cost of her humanity and growth and thus she's faced again with the exact same situation with Mai and she's forced to watch her heart be taken from her again.

It goes to show that we think these characters are getting stronger but they're actually sacrificing something vitally important.

These characters are just going to keep going around in circles and you have to wonder just when is it going to stop?

#yuta okkotsu #gojo satoru #jjk meta #jujutsu kaisen meta #yutamaki #jujutsu kaisen theory #jjk 261 #jujutsu kaisen 261 #jjk 261 spoilers #jujutsu kaisen 261 spoilers

[cer-rata]

TW: racism

I think the way that comic book media has uncritically pushed anti-Arab racist propaganda (among other kinds) for decades upon decades is an important thing to acknowledge. Like it's not just a couple of bad apples here and there, it's always been pervasive. So many stories, so many villains, so many Arab coded fake evil countries. That kind of thing desensitizes people, dehumanizes entire groups. The politics of media designed for young men and boys (and not just them but for years that was the only audience that mattered, thanks sexism) has consequences.

Seriously, what was this:

As far as I'm aware this never even got an explicit retcon.

I was a little Muslim boy in the mid 2000s reading a Death in the Family because I wanted to know what happened to Jason Todd, and I didn't understand the depths of the propaganda that was being fed to me. I was so desensitized to hearing about terrible things happening in the middle east, and evil terrorists that I didn't question it. And my parents talked to me about what was going on and how it was wrong. But I was still a little kid and I loved Batman and I wasn't at the point where I could really look at the narrative critically, to realize that the authors have worldviews that are biased. I don't think I even grasped that different people wrote the characters. Iran electing known super-terrorist-serial killer-baby eating clown The Joker to represent them because he understood their values is yes, notably crazy, but most of this stuff isn't so loud and obvious, and we didn't leave it in the 80s. Just look at what happened to the depiction of Talia and Ra's post 911 and how they progressive became less human. So just think about the generations of kids reading this crap who had no counter messaging at all. Where does that leave their empathy?

I'm not saying that everything we're seeing is the fault of comic books, that's stupid and reductive and insulting to the complexity of the reality. But what I'm saying is that a lot of these narratives are actively complicit in the kinds of inhumanity we're seeing. Marvel thinking it's appropriate to throw Sabra into a movie in current day is a glaring transgression but it's not some kind of strange outlier. Lots of those films are actively funded by arms of the American military, just look at Captain marvel and Iron Man. And if anyone likes imposing an agenda onto the narrative, it's the military. A lot of this is baked into the fiction, and we owe it to ourselves and others to actively contend with what that means.

I dunno I'm just mad, and disappointed and maybe a little guilty that it took me this long to really realize the full state of things. I spent a lot of time blindly consuming. Like these books were created to be aspirational, to show good people trying to make a better world. But as always happens when art is completely beholden to money, they still serve the politics of the ruling class at the end of the day.

#dc comics #marvel comics #marvel mcu #batman #captain america #iron man #dehumanisation tw #i/p #imperialism #tw racsim #talia al ghul #ra's al ghul #reposted with better formatting

[whereserpentswalk]

Your girlfriend used to be a supersolider. I mean physically she still is, but she doesn't work as one anymore because of an injury taking away the use of one of her arms. She's been through a lot, she's been fighting for longer then unmodified humans tend to live, even with life extension technology, she's been fighting for longer then even the planet you're on has been colonized by humans. The empire she fought for is long gone, but she's still here.

She looks strangely inhuman. Her body looks almost like a statue, she's so perfectly lean and muscular, but in an almost inhuman way. Her eyes are strangely colored, and her skin has pieces of machinery sticking out of her. She's more human looking then the cyborgs you tend to see throughout the city, but there's something most people consider off about her. People always act uncomfortable around her, especially since her body language is kind of stilted, and her face doesn't show emotion, it makes her think of herself as less human than she is.

She's strangely skittish due to her past. Robots always scare her, even ones you consider small and cute. Occasionally she'll see someone with a visor covering their face and she'll want to avoid them due to some memory she has about that. She can't sleep when spaceships are passing overhead, and you'll have to hold her and comfort her until the sound ends.

Most people you meet just walking around the city think of her as being sort of creepy. A lot of your freinds talk behind her back about how she's killed people before. A lot of people think she doesn't feel emotions just because her body doesn't show them, a lot of people think it's impossible for her to love you.

You do your best to make her feel safe. You pet her skin, and kiss her a lot, and play with her hair. You feel the need to make her feel comfortable again. Whoever made her into what she is now took away her ability to feel sexual pleasure, but she seems to enjoy pleasuring you. She wants to cry when she lays her head agaisnt your breast, but her eyes can't do that anymore.

She seems to so often feel like a monster, feel like something designed to hurt people. She's so aware that her body itself is built as a weapon of war, that it makes her feel like violence itself is her nature. But you tell her that she doesn't have to be violent anymore if she doesn't want to. And you call her pretty, people have said a lot of things about her body, but you don't think anyone has called her pretty before.

#196 #my thougts #worldbuilding #writing #my worldbuilding #my writing #super soldier #space marines #cyborgs #cyborg #scifi #scifi writing #scifi worldbuilding #scifi whump #sci fi writing #sci fi #science fantasy #science fiction #yuri #wlw #monster fucker #monster lover #hurt/comfort #short fiction #short story #flash fiction

[bentoxication]

cn // misogyny, sexual violence

I really love Metal Gear Solid V but by god this game hates women.

The story fails the Bechdel Test so fucking hard it must have been planned. There is only one woman of significance in this game and she DOES NOT TALK

Speaking of Quiet, not only is her design and character oversexualized for absolutely no reason or pay-off, 50% of the scenes with her are her either being infantilized, in pain or actually literally tortured (and at one point almost r*ped), all of it also sexualized of course

The Quiet being in a cage at mother base is almost so absurd that it's mostly funny, but still, very weird.

You can have female soliders on your base, they are rare (which I accept as it works with some themes I'll speak on in a bit) but whenever you hear two female soldiers talk, they ONLY TALK ABOUT HOW HOT THE MALE CHARACTERS ARE. It would be funny if it wasn't so sad

Paz, who doesn't count as a notable female character jsyk, is exclusively in hospital underwear(?????) and talks to you like a 5 year old and is always posed to show off her body, even when basically passing out from headaches.

I'll add more if I find more

There are many very fucked up things in this game I personally see as valid as they are used for the very loud anti-war messages in this game, like the poor treatment of the soldiers, the very toxic and inhumane cultural microcosm around Mother Base etc. etc., but a lot of them are either horribly under-developed or outright disgusting.

#mgsv #metal gear solid v #mgs5 #mgs #metal gear #metal gear solid

[jessamine-rose]

Hi i love your yandere miguel fics! I'm curious, do miguel and darling have their own child in the future? If yes how is their child different from gabriella?

Read The Spider and the Fly series here <3

Ohh thank you for this question, Anonie!! While Yandere! Miguel x Variant! Darling’s family is up to my readers’ interpretation, I do have my own version. Here it is~

Tw:: yandere, babytrapping, dark family fluff

Note:: Fem reader, introducing my OC :>

♡ Miguel and Variant! Darling have a biological daughter a year after the events of BTSV. Apart from being called mija by Miguel, Lucia O’Hara bears no similarity to Gabriella.

♡ For starters, she inherited Miguel’s Spider-DNA which is the last thing he wanted. But it’s fine; their kid actually grows up to love her “inhuman” traits. Those features are just like her dad’s, after all, and her mom even calls them pretty!!

♡ It gets more wholesome as she grows older. Oftentimes, Lucia will ask Darling for a manicure and eagerly show it to Miguel—look, their claws mean double the designs!! She also likes to try on makeup styles which compliment her red irises. (She prefers red to her regular eye color.) Once, she even applied red eyeliner around her eyes to resemble Miguel’s mask.

♡ Appearance-wise, Lucia looks more like Darling. She is also more stylishly-dressed and wears less/ zero athletic uniforms, though she looks just as tiny and bright-eyed in Miguel’s arms. And maybe it’s for the best that she doesn’t resemble Gabriella……

♡ Lucia’s hobbies are also different. Miguel initially tries to get her into soccer, but the Spider Society inspires her to learn parkour and combat instead. She also takes after Darling’s interest in aesthetics, which means lots of drawings and “pretty things” gifted to Miguel.

♡ There is also the fact that Lucia grows up surrounded by the Spider Society. She is doted on by LYLA and the other Spider-Men, who promise to bring her on their missions once she gets older. (Just don’t tell Miguel.) Her best friends are Mayday and Jess’s kid, courtesy of the playdates arranged by their parents.

♡ In terms of her upbringing, Miguel is just as affectionate with Lucia. Darling, on the other hand, has more fears and doubts than her Variant did with Gabriella. And who can blame her? She is babytrapped and still weighed down by her personal issues, though it’s…nice to be on the receiving end of her new family’s love.

♡ Oftentimes, Darling will find Miguel and Lucia bonding together. It’s a heart-warming sight—her husband’s soft side, her daughter’s bright smiles, her precious family which defies all laws of the multiverse. And who is she to go against this happy ending, knowing the tragic alternative?

♡

Until BTSV releases and proves/ debunks my theories, this post is only a possible ending to Yandere! Miguel x Variant! Darling’s story. Who knows, depending on how the movie ends, they may end up with Lucia, a different kid, or remain childfree in my fics >:3

Tag a Miguel O’Hara enjoyer!! @yanmaresu @yandere-romanticaa @bweoo @kocherry @oofasleep @yandere-wishes @hisachuu @weebsinstash @literaree @miggyyyyohara @miguelswifey04 @h2o2-and-baking-soda

#miguel o'hara #miguel o’hara #yandere miguel o'hara #yandere miguel o’hara #yandere miguel o’hara x reader #yandere miguel x reader #spiderman 2099 #miguel o'hara x reader #miguel o’hara x reader #atsv miguel #atsv #atsv x reader #yandere atsv #across the spiderverse #spiderverse x reader #yandere spiderverse #tw: yandere #fem reader #jessamine-writing

[sheltershock]

Currently thinking about the symbolism of orange with Sasha’s character. How it’s a metaphor present both in Sasha’s mind and lab/office of having a very cold exterior(black/white or greys and blues) and having the smallest pop of color in the interior specifically with the color orange.

The first obvious appearance of this is in his level. When he pops out of the trapdoor/hatch in his mind there’s orange light streaming out from wherever that portal leads to deer within. This is then mirrored in the sequel seen in his office, which has the same cube design with geometric framing. The general feel of the lab is cold and almost inhuman in a way. There’s no windows and all the light is artificial. But the small corner of his office is brightly lit and warm on the inside. And the couch and pillows on top are orange along with bits of the rug on the floor.

It’s also in his outfit. The dark pants, shoes, gloves, glasses and coat cover up the sweater he’s wearing that striped with tans and browns, earthy colors and a less saturated orange. Three places, that’s a pattern.

Then there’s the detail of where the orange is, in comfortable things. It’s the surrounding light for wherever Sasha’s hanging out when chaos is absolutely rocking his entire world. It’s in his turtleneck sweater, something you usually wear to combat cold. It’s in the couch cushions and pillows, something you usually interact with to talk a break or rest in.

It’s such an obvious metaphor. Sasha is such an intimidating figure initially, cold and detached from the world and others. But then you actually spend a little time with him and he’s actually a dork who cares a lot about the people he’s close with. The most glaring time is when he calls Lili ‘darling’ that one time in RoR, completely unprompted. For most the jet ride he’s barely acknowledging that she’s crying her eyes out and mostly has the air of “don’t make me turn this car around.” But then just out of nowhere when he gets good news about Truman’s location he just pulls out the “I think we might know where he is, darling” while clearly putting on the softest tone he can most definitely but imitating Milla. And it just shows that he’s been aware the entire time and just saying something now while trying so hard to be comforting is so much. Fantastic characterization.

I love all the small details in this series, even with something like color and where it appears and how that links up with the character themselves. Just wow. I love the writing here.

#psychonauts #psychonauts 2 #psychonauts rhombus of ruin #sasha nein #I’ve just had this rolling around for a while #there’s this one post about the orange in his office and how Milla clearly must have stepped in and I like that post #but I’ve noticed this detail for a minute and I fully believe Sasha chose the orange himself #its a reoccurring thing for his character so yeah #maybe you can speculate that orange is sasha’s favorite color. it would be a cool headcanon #I’ve imagined before that oleander and him are having a tiff and oleander is talking about how they’re fantastic friends and sasha just goe #”okay. what’s my favorite color?” “….blue. No! It’s black isn’t it?” “Black isn’t a color Morry it’s a *shade*”

[therealhousewifeofharrystyles]

Harry’s Home

(PART I.)

Pairing: Roommate!Harry // Nameless 1st-Person Femme Protagonist

Word Count: ~ 12k words

‼️Mature/18+‼️

⚠️ Content Warnings: Adult Language, Lots of Flirting, Pining, Love/Hate Dynamic, References to Body Weight (“Chubby” Reader), Body Objectification (M & F), References to Masturbation (F), Mentions of Body-Type Biases, Alcohol Consumption (Legal & Responsible Drinking), References to Ovulation & Implications to Breeding

**ANY & ALL IMAGES USED ARE NOT MINE**

Likes, Comments, Reblogs, and Follows are 100% welcome 💕

Weeknights deserve more credit. For many of us, it’s the peaceful resolution to our day. It’s the time when we come home after being excused from our lectures or meetings, or when we clock-out at the end of our shifts. We’ll safely make it back to our comfort zones and our open time slot can be occupied with whatever we want. Those few free hours are sacred. They give adults a necessary recharge. Personally, I share my humble homestead with an egotistical, British businessman—Harry Styles.

Harry was employed as a marketing executive for a unisex fashion brand located in Portland, Oregon. ‘Vol. 6’ started out as a small business, and had recently made waves in the industry with its diverse designs and overall style inclusivity. The company’s roots were planted by a few local, starving artists who set up an online shop with the most modest of intentions. The amateurs were blindsided by how their ideas blew up in overwhelming popularity via the internet. It was like winning the lottery. They eventually accumulated so many orders that they needed to expand their operations—hiring an A-team of designers, tailors, and legal professionals(for copyright purposes, of course). International sweatshops and inhumane labor conditions were far from what Vol. 6 sought to create. And so they stayed in Portland—keeping their focus upon ensuring exceptional product quality, as well as enforcing flexible, comfortable, and progressive working environments for its employees. Although an underdog in the fashion scene, Vol. 6’s excellent reputation continued to soar without a hitch. It turns out that a cohesive process of structured business management and clever marketing can be achieved without sacrificing empathy, creativity, realness, or substance. The only disadvantage is the limited supply of merchandise whilst there’s a metastasizing demand. It’s not like this kind of business structure is rare. High-status designer brands have been known to keep their stock low—or at least that’s what they say—for their popular items to seem more valuable and special. As an operation that works against those capitalist games, Vol. 6 values employee and customer satisfaction over profit. The company’s active attention and true kindness are what separates them from the rest.

So, as I mentioned before, Harry is a part of Vol. 6’s marketing team. He often collaborates with the designing team when he’s working on new promotions or adverts. Creative cohesiveness is essential to successful marketing. Hence why Harry and Mitch became close friends as they had consistently developed ads together for a couple of years.

Some have referred to the boys as yin and yang. One of the two tended to present himself as intimidating and pretentious, whilst the other was comparatively quite mild and personable. It was a mystery how these men befriended one another instead of becoming enemies. Harry was the type that wanted to complete tasks his way, and his way only. In total contrast, Mitch liked spontaneity—preferring to ‘go with the flow’ rather than planning ahead. That method of living was despised by Harry. He was set in his ways. It didn’t make sense to him how his friend could act so unbothered by the world’s chaos. Maybe it was just his hot temper, or maybe it was the way his natural responses to conflict were either instigating a verbal quarrel or using bitter humor as a defense mechanism…but Harry just wasn’t a people person. Mitch had thankfully brought him out of his comfort zone a few times—reminding Harry of his university days when his mates had turned him into a womanizer. The results, however, differed from those times due to Harry developing a bleeding heart as he progressed through his twenties. He was open to new experiences and fun banter with strangers as long as Mitch accompanied him. And so they became somewhat of a package-deal. Well, at least that had been the case before Mitch started dating Sarah Jones.

Harry had nothing to dislike about Mitch’s girlfriend. They got along just fine. However, Mitch became less and less available to Harry outside of work…Which meant Harry wasn’t going out much, and that was his issue. Of course he was happy for his friend—Mitch was supportive of him when he was in a serious relationship a few years back. There was no reason for Harry to be bitter. I personally believe he was just lamenting; that he was struggling to accept the fact that life would no longer be the same as it was. He looked back to when he was working towards a degree and reminisced about how he felt more socially fulfilled from living with, and eventually befriending, complete strangers. Those college memories had been the stepping stones of Harry’s development into true adulthood. He had no intention to ever stop growing and improving as a man. Thus why Harry sought to make a big lifestyle change in order to work towards branching out on his own accord. No more was he to reside in a bachelor-pad apartment with a shitty landlord who had never fixed the rattling air-conditioner. He was going to move somewhere more permanent. A place where he could enter his thirties as successful, single, and not lonely. A housemate would solidify the latter.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Having met him briefly a few times, Sarah recognized a few of Harry’s traits as noticeably familiar. She knew someone personally with identical mood swings, a goofy laugh, and an annoyingly specific taste regarding every little thing. The combination of resemblances felt bizarre to witness up close. She felt like Harry had been performing as some sort of parody—speaking in hyperboles and absolutes as a joke. But she soon realized she was wrong and that he was just like that. Reacting emotionally was actually his genuine response to any sort of change. Sure, she’d interacted with the moody type before. She’d also certainly met plenty of picky control-freaks. Only, the person Harry reminded her of was unique in that she was entertainingly campy, yet sincerely empathetic; and Harry was the same. That person who’d come to her mind was me. And as soon as Sarah heard the news that Harry was looking for a roommate, her ears perked up and she reached out to me immediately.

But I guess I should probably explain the origin story of Harry and me, together, in more detail…here, I’ll start over:

My introduction to Harry was when a friend of mine, Sarah, gave me the news that her boyfriend’s officemate, Harry, was looking to lease a new place. The house was located in a nice suburban area just outside of Portland. Seeing that the neighborhood had been on the upscale side, he wanted to find a roommate to split the pricey rent with. Me, working full time and desperately seeking a replacement for living with my parents, saw this as the golden opportunity to finally have true independence. My initial excitement almost deterred me from wondering whether this ‘Harry’ dude was decent, or reliable, or if he was just some complete prick. I’d never met the guy. I didn’t know a single thing about him besides his name, and yet I’d already begun to mentally pack my bags. I still should’ve had more reservations about it. But then again, I was already aware of how uncomfortable living with a complete stranger was—thanks to college life in the U.S., of course. Also, Sarah’s boyfriend, Mitch, was (and still is) a respectable guy and I was sure he’d only surround himself with people of the like…logically speaking. After all, he was my closest friend’s boyfriend. If Harry stepped on my toes even once, Mitch would endure a hurricane of wrath from my Sarah.

The added layer of safety provided by my best friend’s loyalty was comforting. But this was still a gigantic step for me as a young adult. I’d be actually moving out of my parents’ house entirely for the first time ever. You could say I was blissfully naive of what challenges and obstacles my future held. Apart from all my idealistic daydreaming, I couldn’t help seeking a clearer picture of who Harry actually was (literally and figuratively).

Sarah had given me a basic description:

“He’s a sweet guy. But he tends to act kind of… ambiguous at times? His vibes go back and forth, you know? Kind of unpredictable. Hot ‘n cold…” she trailed on.

Ok. That obviously required significant elaboration—of which she’d eventually come around to providing after I sang the classic Katy Perry lyrics she’d unintentionally referenced.

“…Yeah, yeah, yeah…” She dismissed me, my sing-songy tangent coming to a giggly close.

“…But I’m serious—Mitch has told me all about Harry’s passive narcissism and how much of a stubborn grump he can be…I don’t know, maybe it’s a British thing. A stereotype, I know; but he switches from sarcastic to compassionate on the flip of a dime…” Sarah rambled.

I squinted at her and shook my head in disbelief. This was starting to sound a little sketchy. A grumpy, moody, narcissist? Awesome.

“Psh, so he’s a crabby geriatric divorceé? Wonderful…It’s no wonder he’s got that old-timey name, to boot. The guy just needs a caretaker…also, why would Volume 6 hire an old dude to handle their marketing campaigns..?” I joked.

Sarah shook her head and laughed as if I’d just said something utterly ridiculous.

“HA! Oh, god…I’ll have to remember to tell Mitch all of what you just said.” Sarah wheezed, entertained by my very false assumptions of Harry.

I blinked at her, not understanding why she found what I said so funny.

“…You have it all wrong, babe. He moved here from the UK, like, 10 years ago I think? Mitch said he hopped around from LA to New York City, then from New York to…um, well…to here, in sweet ole Portlandia.” She concluded.

As a young woman in her early-twenties, I wasn’t very enthusiastic about this living arrangement coming to life.

The look on my face must have revealed my doubts because my friend chuckled, waving her hands around for emphasis, and quickly clearing the air for me.

“Wait, wait, hold on! Before you tune out—He’s in his late 20’s! Just realizing how weird that sounded…Yeesh, I’d never let you live with some stinky, old, Englishman, you dummy!”

Phew…That sounded much better. It wouldn’t be too different from living with my older brother, then. But that one word, ‘ambiguous’—it wouldn’t leave my mind. Adjectives like that just leave too much to the imagination…well, to mine, anyway. What was Harry being all ambiguous about? My overzealous curiosity pushed me to spiral, conjuring up whatever dirty secrets that would be instant deal-breakers for me…

Did he smoke inside? Did he hate cats? Dogs? Or worse, was he the leader of some creepy murder cult? And if so, would he reserve our living room for their weekly meetings?!

...Would I be spared as a sacrifice because of my not-so-virgin blood?

Was he a fratty douchebag who peaked in college and succumbed to alcoholism?

Was he the type who’d refuse to be my roommate once he saw that I wasn’t a size-00? Would he feel catfished and tell me I looked “bigger in person?” …Not like that sort of thing really mattered to me—I’d just heard that before from a few guys around his age who were surely expecting to be faced with some petite porcelain doll…

Anyway, I guess I just hoped he’d be direct enough to tell me…you know…anything worth mentioning before I’d officially become his roommate. For all I knew, he was probably just a snobby little brat with an annoying, pompous accent.

Amidst my internal ramblings, Sarah added that Harry was a perfectionist.

So, I was right—he was a brat.

I wanted to stay positive, though. Maybe he was just a neat freak, and that’s what Sarah was implying. I mean, that didn’t sound too intolerable, right? And if he was moody, maybe he’d just keep to himself most of the time. I was perfectly fine with that. I tended to keep to myself most of the time, too...though, I never thought of myself as that moody…

Whoever he was, I just crossed my fingers that he wouldn’t have any attitude similarities to Simon Cowell. Just imagining that possibility made my head hurt and my self-confidence plummet. Whatever. That was probably unlikely, right?

Nonetheless, I was desperate for answers. Sarah just shrugged at me and told me to look him up myself if I wanted to know more. And so, I went to work.

Who was Harry Styles? Aye, that was the question…sorry, I’ll continue:

Doing some basic Googling, it seemed that Harry was at least somewhat active on social media…enough that he wasn’t untraceable, at least. This was one of those (very)few times where I was legitimately grateful for the existence of online social platforms. I scrolled and scrolled, and clicked, and scrolled some more…for probably 3 solid hours. Daylight had actually run out by the time I’d realized how badly my corneas were stinging. I’d looked at myself in the black reflection of my phone and could see the popped blood vessels in the whites of my eyes. At least I found what I was searching for.

Luckily for me, his—albeit, ancient—Facebook page looked genuine and free of any red flags. To my dismay, I had to send a friend request and a follow request to his socials in order to actually have access to the profiles. Did that make it obvious that I was in the middle of e-stalking him? Quite likely, yes…But I’d let my excitement and curiosity overtake my sense of self-preservation that night. Tiptoeing around so I could naturally stumble across a morsel of information would’ve been agonizing. My main objective was more important to me than playing mind games with that stranger, Mister Harry Styles. I wanted so badly to free myself from the confines of my childhood home, regardless. Ugh! I was the only one in my friend group who still lived with their parents, and the lack of privacy only weighed heavier on me as time progressed. My dear friend, Sarah, kindly gifted me my long-awaited chance at freedom by sending Harry’s offer my way, and I wanted to run with it.

Yes, I may have been diving face-first into a serious commitment with a complete stranger. Sure, I’ve never lived with a man who wasn’t related to me. And, yeah, I was nervous that this guy was going to reject me because I was younger, eager, and…kinda on the chubby side, to be honest. I know, I know…

My size shouldn’t matter, I knew that, and I still know that. It never truly matters. I knew my situation wasn’t the same as meeting a lousy Tinder date or whatever, but I felt paranoid regardless. All sorts of men have burned me in the past with their shallowness, so I wasn’t about to hold onto a false guise of confidence just for my big break to disappoint me in the end. The age difference felt somewhat significant on top of that. I’d been made aware that Harry was a few years my senior, but it didn't bother me. I hoped it wouldn’t bother him, either…that, and everything else about me, of course…I just had to wait and see.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

He accepted my friend/follow requests immediately, and I dove head-first into research (lowkey-stalker) mode. From awkward prom photos and blurry, live music performances, the innocence of his Facebook profile finally put my worries at ease. His most recent profile picture was of him, his mother, and his sister. The candid, selfie-style photo successfully pulled a smile out of me. It’s not a secret that there are wolves in sheep’s clothing out there. But my gut assured me he was safe—that he was a decent guy. The back and forth comments on those family photos were friendly enough for me to assume a close bond between the two siblings, especially. My cheeks started to ache from my incessant smiling and giggling. The pictures were just so cute, I had to message Sarah about it.

[Text Messages]

Me: stfu this guy is adorable 😫

Sarah: HA I’ll have Mitch let him know u think so 😏 ❤️

Me: Oh my god, fr pls don’t

Sarah: Too late 😉

Me: Alrighty 🙂 Brb…gonna go play in traffic 🤪

Sarah: Ur such a drama queen lol

Me: Yep, that’s me 😚

Sarah: xoxo 😘💋

** one week later **

Sarah told me Harry was a bit different than the way he seemed in those family photos. She said he had tattoos and that he was a total frat boy at heart. All shyness aside, “…his true colors shine their brightest when he’s riled up…I’ve seen it. Little crabby pants man-child.” It was safe to say that Sarah was explicitly giving me a warning for Harry’s hot temper. I looked past it at the time because–as a sensitive crybaby myself–I assumed he was just in-tune with his emotions. I saw nothing wrong with that. I actually found it to be quite refreshing. A handsome man who isn’t an emotionless narcissist or a bird-brained himbo? Sounded pretty exciting to me! I looked forward to possibly cohabitating with someone who had a solid connection to their empathetic side.

Also, basically everyone and their mom has a tattoo or a sleeve. Harry wasn’t different or special in that way to me at all. I completely shrugged it off. Who cared? Still curious as all hell, I scrolled around for a link to his Instagram. The link was right there on his Facebook profile.

Nice.

This is just too easy, I thought. I’ve got all this information on this man at my fucking fingertips.

Wow wow wow wow…

So, uh…Needless to say, Harry presented himself as a little less, um…well, I definitely wouldn’t have pegged him as a “mama’s-boy.” I mean, it wasn’t like he was unrecognizably different or anything. Sarah’s depiction of him, although vague, was right on the nose. All of this was meant for research purposes only. But it was objectively true that he was insanely gorgeous. It was just a fact. Pretending like Harry was average in attractiveness…I mean, why would I do that? Why would I lie to myself when the man was just an innocent sight for my sore eyes? That’s all he was…he was cute. Handsome. Adorable. It was as simple as that. I just don’t know why I couldn’t stop coming back to his Instagram time and time again. No matter how paranoid I’d been about accidentally liking a post from like…5 years ago…I still kept clicking on his profile for more.

He had a few videos of him working out—pull ups, bench presses, deadlifts—all of which featured a very sweaty, and very shirtless Harry.

He also had a few group shots with friends. Sometimes there would be a picture of him with his mom or his sister.

The latest posts revealed his plethora of tattoos to my unexpecting eyes. It was obvious that he knew he was attractive. He knew he wasn’t some average Joe. And I swear he had to have known I was looking. Surely he was looking at mine, too. But I was quite conservative and innocent on my instagram profile—similar to the way he looked on his Facebook. I had to admit, the general vibe of this virtual scrapbook was indeed leaning on the fratty side. Sarah was right. He also seemed aloof in some ways. It looked like he preferred small gatherings to larger ones. He didn’t post very often, and it was hardly ever him who’d be taking photos of himself. Someone else would capture Harry’s beauty.

The contrast between the two online profiles distracted the hell out of me. Specifically, I found myself gawking at him in his sweaty workout videos. His defined shoulder muscles quickly caught my attention, my gaze drifting across the defined blades until I ventured lower. The butterfly on his abdomen was both creepy and beautiful. It reminded me of the moth from Silence of the Lambs. Its wings glistened with a layer of moisture as he pulled himself up and down on the steel bar. Beads of sweat made his chestnut curls cling damply to his skin. I salivated watching this man strain and flex continuously; and I felt myself arch my back while I sat, pressing and grinding my clothed core against my mattress.

Jesus���What was happening to me?!

So, uh…the truth is…I thought Harry was really fucking hot. There was no point in lying about it. His hair just looked so soft and silky, and I wanted to run my fingers through it. I wanted to pull at it. I wanted to slide my soapy hands across the art on his body under a steaming hot shower. I wanted to kiss my way down until I was met with what I was 10000% convinced would stand a girthy, 7-inch masterpiece. Oddly specific, I know. But it was obvious he had a gorgeous dick to compliment the rest of him. He just had this vibe—this aura about him. It’s hard to explain. What was worse was how it seemed as if he knew he exuded that ‘big-dick energy,’ too.

So why 7 inches? Well, the dildo I’d been using for a while was about 6 inches—which was very nice, don’t get me wrong. But it just didn’t quite fill me…completely. And so I’d begun to fantasize about how Harry could stuff my holes instead. Fantasy Harry was a motherfucking dreamboat, let me tell ya. I couldn’t stop daydreaming about him—from carrying heavy boxes into the house and helping me unpack, to flat-out forcing me onto all fours, spanking my ass, and fucking me to tears. The fantasies only evolved over time, no matter how hard I tried to push those perverse thoughts away…but to be honest, I didn’t want to…

Nevermind his admittance of vanity, he still had a gentleness about him…hiding somewhere beyond those pale, teal eyes. Or maybe it was my overwhelming attraction to him that cast a rosy hue to how I perceived his character. I guess that was possible. However, I tended to have a good radar for these sorts of things—people, I mean. Harry made me feel excited, secure, comfortable, and very horny. I had no intentions of backing out from signing that lease, and I decided it was time to officially confirm that with him.

My addiction had only worsened from there. I’d begun to shamelessly use his posts as some sort of spank bank for my regular sessions of alone time. My body reacted quite positively to the change in routine. I couldn’t get too into it, though, as I hardly ever had the house to myself. That was one reason why I wanted out of there. Of course, I was still able to have my fun; I just needed to keep quiet. But fucking myself to Harry made staying quiet extremely difficult. It was like masturbating on Hard Mode. I was constantly hyper aware of how I handled my phone with my one free hand—so as to not double-tap. Then there were some photos of him where I’d pinch and zoom in closer, straining my eyes to see if I could make out the outline of his bulge. He wore black athletic shorts a lot of the time, so he was usually protected by the camouflage of the dark fabric. In one of his weight-lifting videos, though, he brought the bar up from the floor up to his knees, then slid it up just below his hips, and—oh my god. The metal pressed so closely to the tops of his thighs that he had his whole package propped up. His shorts tightened perfectly around him. It was so subtle, most people would probably miss it upon first glance. But I didn’t. I saw it. And now I can’t unsee it.

Oh…but he wouldn’t post him with a…or would he…?

Ugh, that cocky little smirk…Fucking asshole.

I hated him.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Of course, I felt really dirty for thinking about my new roommate like that.

Oh, yeah…Sorry, uh, I forgot to mention: the two of us had e-signed the lease. I know, I know…but I needed to take the offer! How could I pass up the chance to 1.) move out of my parents’ house, and 2.) move in with a sexy, brooding, successful British man whom I could trust because he was a mutual friend AND…I honestly loved the house. It was old, but not broken or in shambles. The floors were amber hardwood, and the whole house was finished with matching carved, wooden railings and accent wall paneling. Having recently been remodeled, the kitchen was in excellent shape. Appliances were updated. The property was managed by an association which handled the lawn, utilities, and small, miscellaneous amenities. We had our own driveway, a connected two-car garage, and our mailbox was labeled with both of our last names.

The charming little cottage condo was now officially, and contractually, mine and Harry’s. I was ecstatic about it, honestly. We still hadn’t met in person yet, which I knew wasn't the smartest approach, but we’d at least chatted a bit over text and shared some friendly phone calls. His voice was insanely sexy, might I add. I knew he was from the UK, as per Sarah, and so of course I was expecting to be greeted with that accent. What I was not expecting was this slow, deep…rough…

Eek, sorry—um, I wasn’t expecting a voice like that to come out of the speaker, that’s all. Dare I say it, he actually sounded nervous to talk to me on that first call. He’d stutter his words whenever I posed a question, and I could practically hear his boyish smile through my phone. It also took forever for him to end our calls—our goodbyes resembling the never-ending midwestern kind that I was unfortunately very familiar with. They didn’t feel nearly as painful or awkward, though. Listening to his accented mumbles on the other line released a flutter of butterflies in my belly.

I later learned that Harry had performed his own research on me. The only difference was that he’d done most of it a week or so before we’d e-signed the lease together.

It was simple. At work, Mitch mentioned me in a conversation regarding the house Harry had his eye on. He was interested the moment my name was suggested, a gut-feeling making him latch onto me. Once he’d discovered my online profiles by searching through Mitch’s mutuals, his infatuation with me soared. He had a juvenile crush on me from the get-go.

Feeling 17 again, Harry would look for openings in their casual discussions so that he could bring me up. Mitch, being a good sport, spent day after day playing his role as the messenger between the 4 of us. He wished Sarah had just given Harry my phone number straight away instead. If she did, Mitch would’ve been able to eat his lunches in peace. Not only did Mitch lack the answers to those questions, but he’d also only interacted with me a handful of times. He struggled to provide Harry with even the barebones descriptions. How was he supposed to know whether I was a morning or a night person, or what my thermostat preference was, or which days I did my laundry, or how often I had guests over? My private social media accounts offered better information about me than that of the fleeting memories my best friend’s boyfriend stored in his brain.

Harry intended to use somewhat of a surreptitious approach to voicing his curiosity to Mitch. But his sly efforts were useless, as Mitch caught onto his scheme quite easily. There wasn’t anything indicating to me that he was interested in me in any way. Well, not until Sarah let it slip that Harry couldn’t keep my name out of his mouth whenever he spoke to Mitch. But I thought he was just curious…I mean, I was a random, younger woman whom he was going to be living with. It made sense to me that he wanted to know so much about me. I was just as curious.

Casual lunch conversations between the two men had begun to form a particular pattern of redirection. At first, Mitch thought Harry was simply just eager to send in his deposit before anyone else could. The rent cost was a steal for how nice the house was and for the lovely neighborhood it was in. However, he knew all this enthusiasm was directed towards me, in particular, when Harry’s eyes were perma-glued to his screen whilst scrolling through my photos. I didn’t really have that much to scroll through, but apparently Harry spent enough time staring at each individual picture that one may have assumed I had an endless gallery. He’d even taken the liberty of digging further and eventually found my LinkedIn page. I remember how the week before our first phone call, I’d gotten a notification from LinkedIn telling me that someone viewed my profile…I didn't even know why I kept the app on my phone since I was content with my current job. Nevertheless, Harry’s investigation wasn’t as covert as he’d hoped.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Harry was scrolling around on my LinkedIn profile in the Vol. 6 breakroom. Without thinking, he outwardly deduced to Mitch, “She must be the commitment type,” referring to my short, yet impressive résumé. He promptly followed up his inference by chiming,“She’s lookin’ for something’ serious then, hm?”

As soon as the words escaped his lips, Harry’s nonchalance disappeared.

Mitch stopped in his tracks as Harry decided to drag the comment out further.

“I-I mean, like, for a serious living arrangement, y’know?” Harry squeaked.

Mitch cringed in discomfort as the cracking of Harry’s voice pierced his eardrums. To the man’s dismay, his friend didn’t know how to shut his mouth.

“…Some people can be quite fickle ‘bout it, yeah? And what, she’s 24? Surely she’s been disappointed by dozens of pricks by now. Must be dying for someone she can actually rely on, dontcha think?”

Mitch pursed his lips and half-heartedly agreed, “Mhm, probably sick of the fear-of-commitment type.”

Harry nodded and pulled at his lip with his thumb and forefinger. He then continued to ramble on.

“Now tha’ I’m edging on 30…I dunno…’guess I’m just looking—” He paused to clear his throat and scratch his nose with his knuckle. He looked considerably anxious. “—looking forward to, uh, commitments, and all tha’.”

Mitch’s eyes narrowed towards his friend who kept fidgeting with his hands on top of the table and dodging all eye contact. He found Harry’s clumsiness entertaining. He wanted to see how long he could get him to chase his tail. Instigating, Mitch said,“Yeah…So, uh, did you find anything else interesting about her?”

Harry lifted his head up to meet with the other man’s suspecting stare.

“Huh? Well, y-yes, definitely! ‘Course I did. She, uh…well, she’s—”

“—She’s a pretty girl…yeah, H?” Mitch interrupted, cutting him off from his stuttering. Harry swallowed dryly in response. At that point, it seemed to him that Mitch had finally picked up on his crush.

“Uhm, yeah…yeah, I think she is. Quite lovely, now that y’mention it.” His eyes blinked down at the zoomed image of me in a bridesmaid’s dress displayed on his clutched phone screen. Mitch patted Harry’s shoulder, heartily laughing at the glassy-eyed brunette in front of him.

Except, Harry wasn’t laughing. The shells of his ears turned red hot and his knee bobbed awkwardly under the table, unintentionally knocking on the hard surface a few times.

“Ah! Fuck.” He cursed under his breath, holding his nervous knee down.

“Harry, it’s ok if you have a lil crush on her...” Mitch assured him. Harry gnawed on the inside of his lip as Mitch kept on. “…God, y’know, I haven’t seen you down this bad since…well, since Cam, I think...”

Harry gulped at the mention of the woman’s name…the woman who broke his heart several years earlier. His discomfort with the subject was apparent to his friend who then swiftly rephrased. “Shit…Sorry…I just mean, like, you’ve got heart-eyes for a girl you’ve never even met. You don’t know her. She doesn’t know you…”

Harry stayed silent.

“…Honestly, I’m surprised. ‘Used to you always going for the Barbie-type. It’s nice to see you’re, uh, broadening your horizons, hm?” He smirked and drew an exaggerated hourglass in the air with his hands.

Harry furrowed his eyebrows and got defensive at the suggestive implication. “Besides having dated all women, I’ve never had a type, Mitchell.” He scoffed. “And another thing—” Harry quipped, his pupils swallowing the soft green of his irises. Mitch, unintimidated, seemed quite amused by his friend’s sensitive temper.

“—You shouldn’t talk about her like tha’. Inn’ she close with Sarah?! That’s your girlfriend’s best friend. ‘S fucked up.”

Mitch nodded in agreement with a dismissing chuckle. “Yeah, yeah, yeah. Sarah’s known her for years, but I was just messing with you, man. Relax.”

The men were quiet for a few moments before Mitch sent a warning Harry’s way.“Don’t fuck around with her, ok? ‘less you’re looking to mop up the poor girl’s tears every day. You’re signing a 3-year lease, remember? Try not to think with the wrong head.”

Harry glared at Mitch.

Wha—mopping up tears?! That’s a bit dramatic…

Contrary to Mitch’s assumptions, Harry wasn’t planning to create an uncomfortable living space. That’s the last thing he wanted. Sure, he was attracted to me and felt little butterflies fluttering in his belly when he read my posts and my texts. So what?! That’s his business if he had a teeny tiny crush on his potential housemate. It felt like Mitch was deliberately egging him on, and that’s precisely how the conversation escalated.

“What—? What are you going on about?” His voice strained to release the words. Mitch was done beating around the bush—he realized how the aftermath of Harry’s pursuit of me could end with lots of crying on my part; and worst of all, a very angry Sarah Jones. He wanted to avoid that outcome as much as possible.

“H, you’re stalking her Facebook and shit—”

“—Oi! ’S not like tha’! I just wanna know who I’m asking to move in w’me!”

“Ok, well I’m pretty sure you don’t keep looking through all her photos because you wanna know how good she is about washing the dishes.”

“You don’t know what you’re talkin’ about…” Harry huffed. “…’Sides, you know it takes me a bit to get comfortable with people. Not to mention, I've never had a bloody roommate befo’, either.”

He was telling the truth—omitting some personal details in the process, but that didn’t matter. Not to Harry, at least. He knew Mitch was terrible at keeping secrets and that Sarah would be in the know before he could even finish a confession. There was no way he was going to risk jeopardizing such a safe and pleasant option with sharing his feelings so soon.

“Okay…” Mitch trails off. The air in the room was still and it made him uneasy. Harry scratched the shadow of stubble adorning his jaw. His impulsive mouth thankfully filled the silence that was suffocating them previously. As grown men and friends, the boys seemed to act like stubborn adolescents when it came to women—specifically, when it came to Harry and women.

“Um…so, you said you’ve met her before, yeah?” Harry couldn’t let it go.

Mitch drank from his water bottle and gave Harry the thumb’s up with his free hand.

“Then uh, why don’t you tell me ‘bout her? Like…Wha’s she like in person…?” Mitch took a deep breath and screwed the cap back onto the bottle. He then rubbed his thumb and forefinger against his chin mockingly. It was like Mitch was searching for ways to further tease Harry about his crush. Harry chose to ignore it this time.

Despite lacking approval in Harry’s newfound love-interest, Mitch offered him his honest knowledge anyway.“Hmm…well, I first met her at Sarah’s birthday party a few years back…She was nice, just a little on the quiet side. Seemed like she was holding herself back in that way, you know?”

The sincerity of his recollection shocked Harry. He was expecting to be turned down or mocked once again—he was even planning in his head what to send me via DM to further get to know me, assuming Mitch would’ve ended the conversation by that point. Luckily, he was mistaken.

“I remember her, like, tearing up at a picture of Lexi’s daughter. I thought that was a bit dramatic—the crying, I mean—but, I guess she hadn’t seen Lexi and her baby in almost a year or something..? I dunno…”

Harry frowned, empathizing with my reaction. It broke his heart whenever he couldn’t see his godchildren for long stretches of time, too. Mitch then tapped his fingertips against the table, traveling deeper into his memory to provide more details for Harry.

“…I’d say she’s sensitive in general, though. Sar told me how she’s always the one crying at movies, crying’ in arguments…cries whenever she sees a cat video on TikTok. Kind of a hot-mess, if you ask me…”

Harry’s lips twitched into a smile imagining my expressive emotions.

“...OH!” Mitch clapped his hands and chuckled before proceeding.

“She’s got this laugh that’s, uh, it’s like low-key really loud. Like, sometimes it’ll be this crazy wheeze and then, right away, she’s as red as a fuckin’ tomato. Sarah thinks it’s hilarious and they’ll basically laugh at each other for an hour. But yeah, you can tell she gets all weird and embarrassed after she laughs, though—and she apologizes for everything, all the time. Always sayin’ sorry when she literally didn’t do anything. I swear, dude…Someone could knock her onto her ass and she’d be the one to apologize. Wait, I think she’s from somewhere in the Midwest—like the northern nicey-nice states, y’know, so maybe it’s that? I’m not sure.”

“That’s…kinda cute.” Harry mumbled, his cheeks turning rosy.

Mitch grinned. “Oh, you think so?” A pink hue then washed over Harry’s skin entirely and he bashfully ran his hand through his loose curls. “Yeah, she seems quite lovely—I mean…”Harry stumbled over his admiration, trying his best to sound cool and detached. He failed miserably.

“…I-I dunno…Jus’ forget it.” He then buried his face in his hands, shamefully admitting defeat.

Mitch rolled his eyes and chuckled at his lovelorn friend. He guessed Harry was only randomly feeling things for me because he’s lived in a bachelor’s paradise for too long. It was also a known fact that he’d only have short flings once every blue moon. Those flings have become fewer and farther between as of late. Romance and commitment weren’t really Harry’s forte.

It’s not that he didn’t want a partner, but that he viewed the whole relationship-building process to be strenuous and stressful. Life and work were already difficult enough to balance. And so, for the past few years, Harry let himself be completely occupied by his job at Vol. 6. The go-to excuse to his friends (and especially his mother) for not settling down yet was that he carried a heavy workload, and he didn’t want to be an absent partner because of it. He’d end those conversations with a snippy “‘S as simple as that” phrase.

Even so, Harry was praying to God in the privacy of his lonely bedroom that he’d have the chance to settle down soon. All his adult life, he’d aspired to meet ‘the one’ and for him to give that one all his love and all his babies—a hopeless, hungry romantic Harry was. Dreams like these passed through his subconscious more frequently the more he aged. The British businessman was famished, desperate for love and connection.

Dating around was disappointing and redundant, and one-night-stands made him feel gross. He wasn’t simply a dumb, horny teenager anymore, he wasn’t even much of a dumb hornball of a man in his early adult years. Nay. He always kept an underlying craving for passion and compatibility. Harry was going to enter his 30’s in less than a year and he desired more than lackluster, meaningless sex with boring strangers. He needed more than arm candy. He needed more than a weak flame. He longed for an all-encompassing wildfire to eat away at his flesh from the inside out. He wanted to feel someone’s presence consume him.

Recently, Harry’s dreaming intuition had been signaling to him that he wouldn’t have to wait much longer to finally find his person. He was so needy for someone to genuinely love, and he felt overwhelmingly drawn to me from the very start—to my smile, my innocence, and my bleeding heart that matched his own. My lucky arrival into his life had only increased his determination towards lifelong romantic and sexual fulfillment. He just knew.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The time had come for us to meet in person. We’d gone out for drinks with Mitch and Sarah one weekend. It was a safe choice. This way, no one would feel uncomfortable, left out, or excluded. But in all honesty, it felt more like a double-date than a friendly gathering at a local bar.

I had been somewhat apprehensive about drinking around Harry knowing how I was a bit of a flirty(slutty) drunk. All it took was 1.5 cocktails for me to be a giggling, cock-hungry devil woman. Sarah knew this about me. She’d witnessed my nymphomania from the sidelines whenever we’d go out for a girls’ night. Yet, this knowledge did nothing to prevent her from ordering the 4 of us tequila shots before I’d even stepped into the establishment.

Of course, I was late—I’m late to everything. But that night, it was different. I was on the verge of a mental breakdown with hangers and loose clothes strewn across my bed and crumpled in clumps on the floor. Even my mother felt the need to knock on my door after one of my particularly loud outbursts of frustration—making sure I wasn’t actually in pain. I was fine. I just needed to look my absolute-fucking-best when I met my dream guy face-to-face for the first time! Was that such a crime to try and accomplish?!

My mom didn’t get it.

I’d finally slipped into a pair of high-waisted, dark wash jeans that made my ass look like a big, juicy peach, and a red, ruffled peplum-blouse that deliciously hugged my curves—my large breasts, especially. I topped it off with a tin cup choker and a pair of black, knee-high, heeled leather boots. My self-confidence switched from plummeting to soaring once I’d done a final mirror check on my way out the door.

I knew I had the ability to somewhat ‘make an entrance’ (in dim lighting, at least). However, as soon as Harry and I locked eyes, I saw his mouth hanging open as if I was an A-List celebrity approaching him. My stomach glittered with butterflies at witnessing the effects of my gorgeously buxom appearance. The high-pitched ring of Sarah’s playful wolf-whistle pulled me back to reality.

There he was. He was real. And he was even hotter than I thought he was. Yet, it was him whose features reacted to me with lusty enchantment.

His pupils were devouring me as we stood in a lull. My hand extended towards him for a cordial handshake. But as his large hand gripped mine, he pulled me into his chest for a hug—planting a soft kiss on my cheek. What was even more unexpected was how natural it felt to have his arms around me. The four of us then did a few rounds of shots that night. As a (heavy-weighted) lightweight, I was giggling like crazy after the first two throws. Harry laughed every time I did, and vice-versa, and so we’d run out of breath repetitively—basically falling to the floor on top of each other. We looked like a goofy, touchy couple out on a double date, but we were completely ignoring the other couple. Sarah found our loopy mingling to be quite entertaining, as did Mitch. They both had intimate knowledge the other didn’t. The night eventually wound down and the snoozy (actual)couple left for home via car service. I definitely wasn’t sober enough to drive, either. Thinking back, I suddenly remember sharing a private moment with Harry around that time. Nothing R-rated. Not even PG-13, really.

Our friends had already parted ways, leaving the two of us drunk and cozy at a corner-table in the back of the bar. He ordered us some ice water, of which I’d gratefully accepted. I was mid-gulp when I felt his fingers tuck a section of my hair behind my ear. In hindsight, that was a cheesy, 90’s romcom thing for him to do. However, it felt so gentle and sweet in the moment, I didn’t care. My eyes blinked up at him, my mouth occupied with chilled fluids, and he smiled dreamily down at me. Swallowing and setting my glass down, a soft giggle escaped my lips.

“You’re even prettier in person, y’know.” Harry drawled. More light laughter came out of me before I returned the compliment. “Mmm, you too, Mr. Styles.” His cheeks dimpled and he shook his head at me. “Tha’s cute, but I’m serious.”

I raised my eyebrows at his accusation. “So am I.” My arms folded over my chest in playful defiance. We sat there for a few beats, deeply drinking each other in as if the other person was the bartender’s last call. Harry broke the trance first. “Need t’get ya home, love.” His hand moved to cover mine on the tabletop. Out of instinct, my glassy eyes followed his touch. He was cold, clammy even, yet I could feel my skin flush red-hot in retaliation.

Harry seemed hardly intoxicated or loopy anymore. He had more to drink than me, for sure. However, I had to hold onto him for stability in order to exit the building. Leaving the bar that night gave me the same satisfaction as going home after an amazing first date. I hadn’t met a guy so instantly enamored by my presence since high school…back when I was a size 8! As a size 16 in my early twenties, I’d gotten used to men talking over me and looking right through me. There was no reason for them to treat me that way. I’d always been told that I’m the nicest person in the world—that I was beautiful and hilarious and passionate and brilliant. None of that mattered, though. I was either met with pure indifference or blatant, manipulative narcissism from the opposite sex. But Harry was the diamond in the rough. He treated me better than just decently. He made me feel like a person deserving of much more than the bare minimum—more than just mere kindness—worth love, attention, effort, adoration, and affection. I hadn’t felt that in a long time…if ever.

And don’t worry, neither of us drove home. Harry ordered an Uber for me and rode along so that he could make sure I got inside my parents’ house safely—escorting me to the door like a proper gentleman would. I’d only really experienced that kind of ‘chivalry’ once or twice before. Not that every guy I’ve dated was a complete asshole to me, but the bare minimum was certainly a chore for some…It was refreshing to be treated so delicately—by someone who hardly knew me, to boot.

That entire first impression…it was a solid confirmation for me.

I liked Harry.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Harry and I have grown to be quite friendly with one another since we first met a little over a year ago. However, we sure as hell didn’t start out that way—yeah, the amazing time at the bar was a false first impression. Sure, Harry would still have his moments where he was genuinely caring and gentle. But for the most part, his demeanor changed into that of an antagonistic older brother. So, you could say the initial acquaintanceship was tense.

For starters, we had that 5 year age-gap; and so Harry used that as a pass to be an arrogant, cynical, pretentious know-it-all. It was like he always needed to be the one and only expert on everything. And I’m certain he’s always gotten off on every rare instance where I’ve shown to be naive. Yelling-matches would occur every so often for months as both of us are sensitive hot-heads. We ended that streak of arguing when Harry’s big mouth had inevitably put me in tears. I think it was around the 6-month mark (of living together) when it happened. What’s silly is how his comment didn’t even deserve my dramatics, really. I’d already been in a piss-poor mood that night, and I’m just a crybaby in general. So you betcha any joke about me and my body, no matter how innocent the intentions behind it, throws just enough of a punch to unleash the hysterics.

I was in our living room watching YouTube when Harry came home from work. The video on the TV had pulled a full-blown guffaw out of me a minute or so before the door opened—which felt like a wave of relief after a long, miserable day at my job. I typically would spend more of my time enclosed in my bedroom, but I guess I just felt like switching things up that day. Besides, Harry acted as if he owned the whole goddamn place. The house was 50% mine, too (per our rental agreement). I had every right to venture away from my compact sleeping quarters for the evening. There was still a high probability that Harry would be a grump about it.

Fucking whatever.

If I wanted to enjoy our shared entertainment room, then I was gonna fucking enjoy it! My confidence was torn out from underneath me the moment that prick made his entrance. The door swung open, and there he was—white-collared, spotless, and as smug as ever. He released a generous sigh, an attempt at drawing my attention, but I refused to acknowledge his homecoming. What? Did he want a freaking ‘welcome home, honey’ from me or something?! Being a part of Harry’s House’s Greeting Committee wasn’t in the fine print of our lease. Plus, the last time I kindly acknowledged him after work, he brutally mocked me.

[“Hi!!!” I exclaimed with a sweet smile.

He raised an eyebrow as he slipped his shoes off. “Uh, hello.”

I was in the middle of stowing the last of the groceries away. I’d been in a pretty good mood that afternoon. I don’t know why or what made me so excited for Harry to come home, but I just was. Typically, I wouldn’t be keen on asking him to talk about his day. But, again, I was just feeling good. I didn’t understand why that deserved such an adverse response from the man.

“How was your day?! Oh yeah, you had that big meeting, or whatever, right?”

“Mhmm.” He muttered, unbuttoning the wrist cuffs of his shirt and rolling the sleeves up to his shoulders.

I grinned brightly at him and opened the fridge. The way Harry looked with his stuffy work clothes always made me melt. He kept his tattoos well-hidden, but simply pulling his sleeves back would reveal the art…and that was something he’d do as soon as he got home. The action was so small and innocent, but witnessing it so closely—whilst simultaneously inhaling the faint notes of his expensive cologne—sent rushes of heat down to my core. He had no idea how hot he was when he did that…actually, he probably knew exactly how hot he was…little shit…

“So…Did your presentation go ok?”

“Uh, yeah, ‘went fine. It was fine...glad to be home, though.” Harry sighed, but I saw him fighting a smile once I’d turned around to face him.

“Oh? Just fine?” Judging by his subtle cheekiness, I had thought he had some news to tell me. It just seemed that way to me, at least. Or maybe that he was hiding something, or about to make a joke. My latter suspicion was quickly confirmed as true.

“I dunno…It went well, I guess…couldn’t wait to get home...” Why was he smirking at me?

I giggled and continued the banter.

“What are you being so modest about? I’m sure the reps at Gucci fell in love with the designs.”

Harry slipped onto one of the bar stools and watched me unpack the remainder of paper bags from behind the kitchen island. He leaned back against the seat’s backing with his arms folded and resting comfortably atop his abdomen. After making silent eye contact for a moment, I resorted to laughing lightheartedly and raising my eyebrows at the man.

“Eh?”

Harry just smirked.

I’d begun to fold up the empty paper bags. My cheeks were definitely blushed pink, reacting sheepishly to his stare. To conceal my submissive appearance, I reached up—pushing up onto my tiptoes—to stack the paper bags above the refrigerator. It didn’t matter that my back was facing him. I could still feel his eyes following my every move. Why did he have to intimidate me so much?

“Fine, be that way. Just so you know, I bought cookies for us, but now I'm not gonna share!”

“Oh really?” He hummed, leaning up to rest his forearms on the counter.

Scoffing, I stepped forward to face him from the other side of the island and grabbed onto the edge of the countertop. My upper half was angled towards him so that I could talk more directly to him.

“Really, really.” I purred, not realizing my voice would sound so erotic. Instead of backtracking, I just ran with it. Harry’s pupils expanded much like a feline’s when they’re hunting their prey.

But he just sat there smirking at me. My pleasant mood wasn’t to be ruined by his teasing. I wasn’t going to allow it. I could play, too, Styles.

“What kind of cookies did you get us, hm?” His low, British drawl sent chills down my back.

“Oreos.” I didn’t sink into that ‘subspace’ as they call it. Not yet.

Harry basically moaned a hum out in approval. I swallowed, still combating my natural instinct to surrender like a desperate little puppy. This was getting more difficult.

“You know those are my favorite, don’t you?”

I blinked. “Uh huh.”

“I bet you got’em just f’me…you weren’t gettin’ them for us...” He paused for a moment. “…were you, sweet girl?”

“I…maybe…” I squeaked, earning Harry’s immediate amusement.

“I’m gonna take a guess at something real quick, a‘right, doll?”

“Ok…” He was so close to me. I was just thankful I’d been chewing gum at the time…

“Are you ovulating right now? Is that why you’re being so doting and domestic?”

My face fell.

“Wha—Excuse me?!” I stepped back from the counter and put my hands on my hips. What kind of guessing game was that?! Who even asks that?!

In the most annoying way, Harry stood up from his stool and copied my stance. He was using far too much sass and flamboyance to be accurate, though. I did not look like that…

“Oh, don’t you give me that look, sweetheart.” Harry chuckled, walking over to me. He then reached his long index finger up to *boop* the tip of my nose. I huffed in response. The breaking point was nearing closer with every word he’d spoken. But submission was not an option.

I knew that he knew. He had to have known. He must have caught onto my shyness, saw how much he made me blush, sensed how bratty I’d become whenever he teased me. I was putty in his hands.

“Awe, You’re cute…” He mumbled under his breath. His hand rose to my shoulder and he twirled a lock of my hair around his finger.

I was furious. It was obvious he was just trying to rile me up. That’s all this was…reaction bait.

“Harry…—”

“—I’m just sayin’, one might think you were trying to sweet talk me into letting you milk me dry and put a baby in ya. I’m sure you’re just as fertile as you look, aren’t you, babe?” He grinned and drummed his rings back against the marble counter, now leaning back all cockily.

There it was again—that smug little smirk on his stupid, perfect, dimpled face. What did he mean by, “as fertile as I look?!” God, a woman can’t be mean or nice without a man having some bullshit to say about it. Whatever. I told myself at that moment that the next man who dared to comment on my missing smile would be a dead one.

I gave him a dirty look and hustled my ass up the stairs to my room. Thankfully, I was finished putting all the groceries away. There was no reason for me to stick around playing this silly game with Harry. As I was making my way up, he called out to me, “I may have a high sperm count, but I’m not quite ready to be a daddy, yet, love!”

“Shut up!” I groaned and slammed my door shut. I think I could still hear him snickering to himself downstairs. Such a dick. Also, how the hell did he know I was ovulating..?! Ugh!

Oh, and Harry wasn’t even finished with his jokes yet, because he’d leapt up the steps in long strides and knocked on my door…just 5 minutes later. I opened it, having then changed into a crop top and pajama shorts in the meantime. Not only was my round ass falling out of the shorts, but my heavy, unsupported tits were also threatening to peak out from the bottom hem of my shirt.

Typically, I wouldn’t want to be caught dead wearing that kind of getup in front of anyone. However, I thought I looked deliciously thick and absolutely, downright-fuckable that night. Of course I’d been aware of this, as well. And so I used my innate feminine sexuality to my advantage. As soon as I opened the door, Harry’s eyes (unsurprisingly) flickered back and forth between my chest and my face. How classy… I took the liberty of folding my arms together in front of me to feign some modesty.

Looking back on it now, I definitely watched a similar scene in porn...

He just stood there at my door, all of a sudden at a loss for words. I wish that silence would have lasted longer. It took only a few seconds before he was flashing me his signature dimpled smirk again. He then mirrored my body language and leaned his shoulder against the doorframe.

“Well, well, well. What do we have here?” He teased, plucking at the hem of the shirt sleeve that hung loosely past my shoulder.

My back straightened up, an attempt at asserting a smidge of self-confidence amidst my pink cheeks and pounding pulse.

“What do you want, Harry?” I tried to act annoyed, but I think I sounded too timid…and to be honest, the idea of Harry filling me up with his cum had caused my panties to dampen significantly. They were surely leaking through my shorts, but fortunately my thighs were meaty enough to hide it.

“Hmm…No bra? Tha’s interesting…” I could tell he lowered his canter when he said that, but I still heard him.

“Gross, you pervert.” I spat, squeezing my arms closer against my chest.

“Ay, hold on, little miss sunshine. What’s with the bratty attitude, huh?”

“Shut up, mister big loads. Go impregnate a sock.” My expressive irritability only further inflated his ego.

“Hmm, I’ve gotta say, tha’s tempting, but…I wouldn’t wanna make you jealous.” I wanted to scream.

“Ugh! Get out of my room!” I pushed at the door, but Harry held it open with his hand—and there was no way I could win against him in that impossible match of strength.

“First of all, I’m not in your room.”

I closed my eyes and tried to control my breathing.

“Second,” he held his finger up. “Would you like f’me to order us some dinner?”

I huffed. “What I’d like is for you to leave.”

He shook his head and tsk’d in response. “Mm-mm, tha’s not what I asked.”

My teeth clenched at his audacious snark.

“I don’t care, Harry.”

His rings then tapped awkwardly against the smooth wood.

“Ah…” he sighed with his head bowed. “…Look, I’m sorry. I was just tryin’ to mess with you...I didn’t mean to make you feel embarrassed…”

Even though I couldn’t stand him, I’d begun to feel my heart soften at his puppy-eyed expression. Why did he have to be so irritating and so adorable at the same time?! Just choose one!

Hmph…whatever.

“…Well, I know you’re hungry…I’ll pay…?”

I sighed and chewed at my lip. I was starving…

His boyish apology was reluctantly accepted, but I made a point out of picking something expensive. He could afford it.

We ate and watched a movie on the couch together. To my surprise, there were no more stupid comments coming out of his mouth for the rest of the evening. Impressive. I noticed his eyes turned basically black. It wasnt like we had all the lights off; plus, it was August—the sun didn’t set completely until 9pm. I felt those pupils following me.

It was apparent that Harry found me attractive. That night he certainly did. Or maybe he was just high? Either way, after he’d pointed out my lack of undergarments, I decided to brush him off as simply horny. At least that was the best explanation I could come up with for all the sneaky eye-fucking. There was no way I could’ve convinced myself he was actually giving me that kind of attention consciously…

After we’d finished eating, he went out of his way to fetch me a blanket(our good one, no less) and then proceeded to drape it around my back and shoulders, tucking me in as if he’d done it a million times before. Look who’s the doting one now, Styles!

I also remember how he basically bolted for the bathroom and took a shower as the film wrapped up with the end credits…Ok, ok…so, I may have purposefully bent over in those shorts while cleaning up the coffee table…but surely he just had a long day and was desperate for a hot shower…Surely.]

It’s safe to say that I toned down the ‘domestic’ part of me from that point on. Even though Harry just likes to get my goat, I still wanted to make it more difficult for him to have a reason to tease me. The night when our door to the garage swung open, his voice echoed through the house with such vigor that it sent yucky chills down my spine. Oh, the irony...

“Well, shit—Mitch wasn’t kiddin’ ‘bout y’laugh being loud as’ell! ‘Could hear ya from the driveway!”

This man survived off of my agitation, I swear. I shifted in my seat to face him and my eyes narrowed at the sight of his stupid, cocky face. I’ve always felt embarrassed about my somewhat-loud, slightly obnoxious laugh—and the thought that it’s been a main point of discussion between Harry and Mitch (and who knows who else) stung even worse.

It’s fine. Don’t listen to him. Don’t react. Just…breathe…

“Hi, Harry.” My intonation was as unimpressed as I could make it sound. He of course snorted at my brattiness, slipping his shoes off and tossing his wallet and keys onto the kitchen counter before taking long-legged strides in my direction.

“Good evening, doll.”

I huffed and waved my hand half-assedly. Something that drove me mad was how he was fiercely antagonistic towards me, and he insisted upon giving me little pet names. I knew he was just teasing me. That’s why I made sure to always swallow my bashful giggles whenever he said them. My subby-ness was not to be easily accessible anymore.

“So, what’s this, hm? Grown tired of hiding from me all the time?” He casually gestured to me with his flat, open palm.

I exhaled through my nose in aggravation as he plopped abruptly down onto the couch—his arm propped up next to him and one leg resting on the opposite knee. His draping arm was stretched out towards me. I refused to take part in Harry’s game at that time, and so I returned his question with silence. But it didn’t even matter because he could tell I was holding my anger in.

“Oh, I get it. It’s some sort of opposite day or summat.”

He stretched his fingers closer to where my head was resting on the back of the couch. They wrapped themselves around a smooth lock of my hair and twirled it continuously. This man thought it was absolutely hilarious to get even the faintest reaction out of me. Harry was generally the ‘touchy’ type of person when he’s around those he’s comfortable with. It made me feel special whenever he went out of his way to be affectionate towards me because…well, I had a crush on him for a while. And so, at first, I naively understood those soft touches as hints for his deeper feelings. At least that’s how I perceived things privately. But the more time I’d spent living with him, the more I had to come to terms with the fact that he was out of my league, and that he probably only viewed me as a little sister. My mind convinced me that Harry just enjoyed taking advantage of my innate submissiveness. He would never be attracted to someone like me. In order to protect my heart from the shattering effects of rejection, I chose to play into the little sister dynamic and behave as though Harry Styles was just a stupid fucking boy, and nothing more.

My behavior shift from the bashful sweetheart to the indifferent recluse somehow drew him closer to me anyway. I was so fucking pissed. I was sick of his games! Most of all, I hated Harry Styles. I hated him, and I hated his wandering hands, and his cockiness, and his giant ego.

My hair is not a toy, and I am not a doll reserved for Harry’s cruel amusement. And yet I kept living with all these antics because I…

…Because I liked his attention…honestly, I loved his attention. I’ll admit it! There was no way he could ever find that out, though!

That night when he (once again) twisted a piece of my hair around his long fingers, I pretended it didn’t make my heart flutter. My face stayed emotionless. It had truly been an award-winning performance by yours truly. To an outsider, this scene would’ve looked as if Harry and I were a bickering couple. They’d probably assume I was just a crabby girlfriend punishing her partner with the silent treatment. To be honest, that’s what it felt like for a second before I caught myself leaning into his gentle contact. I smacked his hand away from my hair and he just smiled at me.

Ugh!

He smiled at me, and then he poked my cheek with his index finger. I swear to God, my skin was on fire.

“So what’s next on the opposite day schedule? ‘You gonna go for a run?” Harry snickered and let out an amused sigh. “That would be the shock of the century, wouldn’t it?!”

He kept laughing at his juvenile dig. I let out a weak scoff, unable to swallow my pride that time. The air in the room was stale. Harry faced the television screen and sunk further back into the cushions. I sat there in mopey silence.

So I live a sedentary lifestyle, so what? And yes, I’m overweight—I’ve been struggling with my body my entire life, so there’s no need for anyone to give me a reminder. Regardless of the obvious and regardless of Harry’s ‘opposite day’ joke, I wasn’t in the right mindset to just brush it off…not that night. Starting a fight wasn’t the route I wanted to take either. I was exhausted. A retreat into solitude felt like my best option.

But, God…why did he have to fucking say that?

My bottom lip quivered and I was unable to blink back the tears for a moment longer. Every last ounce of patience I had left was dried up at this point. My long hair shielded my face whilst I bowed and dabbed my dripping eyelashes with my sleeves. Noticing the lack of verbal retort from me, Harry turned his head back in my direction. His breath hitched in his throat and his sage irises washed over to stormy blue.

“Oh, shit…” he muttered.

I sniffled and got up from the couch, making a beeline for the privacy of my bedroom. He never meant to make me cry. It was obvious Harry was just poking fun at me, but words can still hurt regardless of the speaker’s intent. It was too late for him to consider that now. Harry quickly jumped in front of me. He leapt into action so fast that I was physically startled back against my bare heels.

“What the fuck, Harry? Move!” I whined frustratedly at the man as he stood there with similarly glossy eyes.

Then he reached out and held my shoulders in his strong hands. His thumbs did that rubbing thing that most people only do when comforting their loved ones. Back then, I wished so badly that the simple gesture hadn’t sent such soothing goosebumps down my arms. It was so infuriating how this man held that kind of power over me.

“I-I’m sorry. I didn’t mean it like that, love. Please don’t cry. I—”

I gritted my teeth at his pity.

“—why? Are my big, fat tears too loud?! Or are you worried I’m so huge that I’ll get stuck, and my arms and legs will burst out of the fucking house?!”

Harry’s brows furrowed at my imagery. “Uh, wait—are you trying to reference…Alice in Wonderland—”

“—ALSO! Last time I checked, YOU were the one who ate all the cookies last night—YOU and your RABBIT TEETH fucking decimated my Oreos! So why don’t you go for a fucking run!”

Harry seemed amused with that one. His stupid dimples popped out at me and I was fed up.

“Get out of my way!”

I pushed against his chest, but he stood firmly on the carpet in front of the stairs. I remember fighting my urge to stomp my feet like a toddler. He wasn’t letting me retreat. He wouldn’t get out of my fucking FACE!

“I know you want to yell at me, so do it.”

“No, I don’t want to yell at you! I want you to move so I can go to my room!”

“Cmon, love. Talk to me…Give me all y’got. I know you have it in ya.”

“MOVE!”

Then he laughed. Why? Because I actually stomped my fucking foot—just like how I’d previously forbade myself to. And I’m sure the performance was quite entertaining for him.

“Don’t you throw a tantrum on me, sweet girl. Use your words!”

“You’re such a fucking smartass.”

“Oi, don’t talk about my ass like that! I’ll have you know, it’s quite dumb!” He grinned.

Un-fucking-believable. I can’t believe that got me to crack a smile. Harry instantly mirrored my surrendering, his hands drifting down from my shoulders to my elbows. My arms were crossed over my chest, but he wiggled them loose.

“YES! There’s that pretty smile…”

I huffed and groaned, feeling like a total child.

“…Don’t you be teasing me for my teeth—Y’look like a bunny just like me, babe.”

I giggled and playfully shoved his chest. “I do not!”

“Uh-huh! You definitely do!”

My hand rose up to cover my mouth and Harry just laughed at me. Lowering himself closer to my height, he *booped* my nose which caused me to scrunch it up in response.

“Aww, you are just a lil’ bunny, aren’t you?”

I squirmed and whined, annoyed as all hell with his patronizing.

“Don’t you start stomping your feet again, sweet Bunny. You’re better than that!”

I couldn’t help myself from just letting my guard all the way down at that moment. Inhaling deeply, I circled my arms around Harry’s middle and buried my face against his chest.

“Sorry…I just want us to get along, H.” My small voice was muffled against his shirt.

Harry frowned and wrapped his arms around me, reciprocating my surrendering embrace. My ear was pressed against his chest. There was a strong beat beyond his hard surface–my head pulsed with each fierce thump. That was the closest we’d ever been to each other. One of his hands slid up to my hair and combed through it.

“I do, too…I’m sorry.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Sharing a house was less expensive for both of us 20-somethings, and rent has thankfully stayed reasonable and affordable since we two moved in a couple of years ago. I’m happy in my living space with my roommate. It’s a platonic situation between me and Harry—regardless of what family and friends want to believe. And I doubt it will ever venture beyond friendship any time soon. It can’t. Things are perfect right now…exactly the way they are. I keep my little fantasies to myself within the privacy of my bedroom. Harry can never know.

I’ve been single for a while. It’s possible that my holes are the tightest they’ve ever been, and that it might feel like I’m losing my virginity again whenever I do get some dick. So what, sometimes I think about what would happen if I just accidentally sent a racy photo to Harry…

…Whether he’d keep it and pretend he never saw it (as a way to be gentlemanly)…if he’d be disgusted and laugh at my body…or if he’d turn feral like I hope he would, bursting through my bedroom door and finally taking all that I’ve unconsciously reserved for him…

Don’t fret, my pet — smut will come in part 2 😈

Writer’s Notes: Hi, everyone🥰 Phew…well, there she is! Part 1! Thought I’d celebrate my birthday today by posting my first H piece💕 I’ll start off by saying…I’m kind of an obsessive perfectionist when it comes to my writing…so I won’t be super speedy when posting updates on my work, as I really want to be certain that I’m posting exactly what I want you to read. I know that other content creators on here are excellent at keeping a quick, reliable posting schedule—and I will be trying my best to do the same(I hope to make it in the same ballpark as them, at least). However, please be patient with me💕🙏🏻 💕 I have devoted a lot of time, love, and creativity into my work just so that I can share it online with strangers for free. I greatly appreciate any and all support, suggestions, criticism, questions, etc., so please don’t hesitate to comment or send me messages/asks. (Anons are welcome!) I’ve been working on this piece for a while now and I’d really like to get your feedback on it. If you would like to be tagged in future updates/parts, please let me know!!!👏🏻💗👏🏻🩷👏🏻💖 👏🏻

xoxo ~ Regan 😘💕

@victoria-styles @harrystylessmuttyfics @therealhousewifeofharrystyles

#harry styles #harry styles smut #harry styles x you #ask me anything #asks open #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles one shot #harry styles x reader #harry styles fanfic #harry styles x plus size reader #harry styles imagine #harry styles writing #harry styles blurb #harry styles fic #harrystylessmuttyfics #harry styles x y/n #harries #my writing #writing #harrys home #harry series #harry x reader #roommate!harry #harry #harrystyles #harry smut

[tmntkiseki]

The very long post where I talk about all the stuff I like from each of TMNT 2003's three art styles (and nitpick at the stuff I don't)

Seasons 1 - 5

When most people think of TMNT 2003's art style, they are thinking of the first five seasons. The dark muted colors, the heavily muscled designs of the turtles, the dynamic lighting effects that change depending on the location, time of day, and the weather. But what is it about the style from the first five seasons that is just so damn tasty?

Interviews with Peter Laird reveal that in terms of the turtles' appearances for the 2003 series, while he doesn't dislike the 1987 turtles, he did find them too cutesy for his liking and described their designs as being "puffy" and "kind of inflatable." The way the 2003 turtles were designed with heavy, well-defined builds was to firmly establish them as ass-kicking superheroes capable of inhuman feats of strength and agility in combat. This is even reflected in the choice to give them white slits for eyes like their Mirage comic book counterparts, which further emphasizes just how serious and intimidating these versions of the beloved characters are meant to be.

One of the things that really does stick out with me with the turtles is the use of "shade with black." Ever since I started learning how to draw in middle school, I've always been told to never shade with black; it looks flat, the colors aren't as deep, your art will suffer for it, etc. But for TMNT 2003, the choice to shade with black is actually of benefit to the series. People love TMNT 2003 for arguably being the darkest and grittiest animated incarnation of the TMNT with a lot of scenes that REALLY pushed the limit of what was okay to show on children's television, and color choice does so much to set the tone of the kind of story you're telling. I especially love it when the shading is used to emphasize expression, like when the turtles are angry or scowling. (Pictured: Raphael during "Meet Casey Jones.")

While on the topic of shading; it's amazing how dynamic the lighting is for this series. As I mentioned earlier, depending on whether a scene takes place indoors, outdoors, underground, underwater, during the daytime, during night, in the rain, etc. the lighting changes to reflect whatever situation the characters find themselves in, whether they're in a hard fought battle with the Shredder or just relaxing in the lair. Lighting for scenes is further affected by things like monitors, candles, street lamps, and other things, and it really brings out both the characters and the environments. (Though I can imagine it was incredibly taxing on the animators, who didn't have access to the same technology that's available now.)

Obviously if I had to nitpick, one of the biggest shortcomings of the 2003 series primary art style is the fact that there isn't a lot to differentiate the turtles from each other physically. If you take away their colored headbands and weapons, the only thing you have to tell them apart is their skin colors; Leonardo is forest green, Raphael is a deep emerald green, Donatello is olive green, and Michelangelo is myrtle green. Without those differing skin tones, there really is nothing setting the brothers apart from each other other than their headbands and weapons (something that the Fast Forward and Back to the Sewer did fix to an extent.)

And this is definitely a "me" thing, but to an extent, I do find the way their builds are drawn is a bit too... bulky? I know they're mutants, that cartoon/comic book style is all about exaggeration of physical features, and that the whole point of giving them these well-defined muscles was to make them appear powerful and athletic, but I dunno man. When I think of ninjas, the first things I think of are "speedy" and "acrobatic," followed by "strong," and while you obviously need a considerable amount of muscle to wield the weapons and perform the stunts that they do, there is a point where too much muscle does ruin the idea that that these turtles are just as fast as they are strong. But, again, it's a "me" thing and I'm pretty sure there are a LOT of people who would disagree with me on this.

Fast Forward

I mentioned in my last post that, believe it or not, I actually do prefer the overall art style for Fast Forward. Why? There are certainly arguments to be made about why Fast Forward's art style is inferior to the first five seasons; for instance, the lighting isn't nearly as dynamic, the designs are simpler and not as detailed, and the overall color palette is far more saturated. So why do I like it so much?

Well, simple: It ultimately boils down to personal preference.

Given my minor ramble about how I don't like how bulky the builds were for the first five seasons, Fast Forward is (to me) an improvement in terms of how the turtles are portrayed in terms of physical appearance. They still undeniably have a lot of muscle to them, but it looks a lot more natural and I can believe they are as fast and agile as they are strong. Fast Forward was also the season where they attempted to individualize the turtles' physical appearances a little more, and while there could have been a bit more effort in that regard (like keeping the missing chunk in Leo's shell from seasons 4 and 5; seriously, why is that gone?), I think they succeeded. Donatello is the tallest and slimmest, Raphael has the most muscle and broadest shoulders, Michelangelo is the shortest, Leonardo is a nice middle ground, etc.

I also really, really love the designs for turtles' gear this season. A lot of people have mentioned how good the turtles look in black/dark colors, and they really do look more like proper ninja this season, albeit future-themed. The praise I have for the designs extends to the supporting cast and villains as well; the future setting, with all its aliens and technology, offers so much in the way of creative potential, and characters like Cody, Darius, Bishop, the Dark Turtles, and many more all have very appealing designs despite being simpler than the earlier seasons.

However, for all that I love about Fast Forward's art style, there are two aspects to it that I have a massive love-hate relationship with.

First off: The shape of the turtles' heads. They are basically pentagons/hexagons this season depending on the angle they're drawn from and this actually isn't the worst thing if you're learning how to draw the 03 turtles? Because visualizing their heads as pentagons/hexagons is actually very helpful when trying to draw them as they appear in earlier seasons. However, in the context of Fast Forward, the more geometric shapes of the turtles' heads is almost too simple and does make them a little... dopey looking at times. Which becomes even more confusing as to why they went with such basic shapes for their heads when some of the official Fast Forward art uses a much rounder style for the heads that looks SO MUCH better in comparison.

The other aspect to Fast Forward's art style that I have a love-hate relationship with is the overall color palette, which was a consequence of the season going for a lighter, more humorous tone when compared to earlier seasons. It's funny because normally I absolutely love bright, vibrant colors and it doesn't actually look bad knowing Fast Forward's tone, but given I'm one of the people who does not like how different the writing is from previous seasons and how much it affected both the storytelling and characters, obviously I want my Fast Forward turtles with darker, more muted colors. (Though keep the glowy bits. I love my glowy bits.)

Back to the Sewer

And now we get to probably the only art style from this series that I do somewhat dislike.

So, let's talk about something that was originally an issue for me, and is an issue for a lot of people who watched this season: the fact that the turtles' eyes are visible through their masks. Obviously, after six seasons of the turtles only having white slits for eyes, this change is pretty jarring and back when I first started watching Back to the Sewer, I was not happy about it either, especially with just how cutesy the eyes are (and normally I'm the biggest fan of cute; one of my favorite "junk food" anime is Acchi Kocchi, for crying out loud.)

But after actually watching Back to the Sewer, two things happened: first, I got used to the turtles having their eyes visible, and eventually I realized that this is actually to the turtles benefit. The turtles are arguably at their most expressive in Back to the Sewer, and the eyes further help individualize the turtles; Leonardo and Raphael both have smaller, more angular eyes, while Donatello and Michelangelo have rounder eyes (likely to make them look more youthful compared to their older brothers.)

I still don't totally like the 03 turtles having eyes, but again, that's probably because we literally spent six seasons with just white slits and when compared to the changes Fast Forward made to the show's art style, the ones in Back to the Sewer are even more extreme and it just feels very unnecessary. (Based on early concept art of Leonardo for the season, it looks like they were trying to mimic the style of the 2007 movie, which would explain the eyes, as well as changes to Splinter's design and April getting completely redesigned.)

THAT SAID, they did go all out with the turtles' attire for Back to the Sewer. Stuff like the cybernaut armor, the stealth suits, the goofy fantasy garb from the MMORPG they end up playing, and the tuxes they wear at April and Casey's wedding are all incredibly appealing and while, again, I don't like the lighter tone of this season, they probably wouldn't have been able to put the turtles in these outfits had it still been dark and gritty like seasons 1 - 5 (I have seen quite a bit of fanart of Donny in his Sorcerer outfit and that makes me a lot happier than you realize, haha.)

Sadly, my compliments to Back to the Sewer do end there and it's probably for the best that I end this post here anyway since it's 3:15 in the morning and I'm falling asleep at my keyboard. (I can't wait to wake up tomorrow and see just how many typos I made.)

Thank you for listening to me ramble about my TMNT 03 art opinions and have a good day/night!

#teenage mutant ninja turtles #tmnt #tmnt 2003 #tmnt 2k3 #tmnt fast forward #tmnt back to the sewers #tmnt leonardo #tmnt raphael #tmnt donatello #tmnt michelangelo

[ceaselesswatchersspecialboy]

What do you think are Yuuji and Sukuna’s greatest personality strengths and weaknesses? Why? What do you love about their dynamic?

A little bit of a late reply because it took me a while to gather and organise my thoughts which I have many of! I love talking about Yuji and Sukuna, especially the two of them together, and even moreso with the fact their strengths and weaknesses are so intertwined, which makes sense, considering they’re foil characters.

In regards to personality, I’ve spoken a lot about Sukuna’s end of things, and his flawed hedonistic mindset. The idea of change is something he cannot accept, and he, as the supposed pinnacle of Jujutsu, represents the old ways - the past - and Jujutsu Sorcerers in the past notoriously rejected their humanity to be stronger, as though some twisted form of enlightenment. Sukuna is an extreme of this, the most inhuman looking of all.

His strengths I think mostly lie in his thoughtfulness and consideration, the way he’s always planning and analysing the situation, never mindlessly swinging. He’s very good at measuring his opponents skill, rarely underestimating anyone (this is what makes his treatment of Yuji ever the more interesting). However, this thoughtful mindset is often held back by his rejection of humanity and change, and I don’t think that’s something he realises at all. His view on life is narrowed, he believes that humans live for pleasure and seek to avoid pain (hedonism), and he makes no room for any other belief. Anything that challenges his mindset is a threat to him (Yuji), and he’s so deep in this way or thinking that he just can’t comprehend that fact. His rejection of humanity is what supposedly makes him strong, yet it is also his greatest weakness - how ironic is that?

Then, there’s Yuji, his polar opposite. Yuji, who is unbreakable, who pushes through despite the suffering he’s undergone, who has such a strong sense of humanity and compassion, all these are his greatest strengths, though sometimes his compassion is also his downfall. The fact he also accepts change, and grows throughout every encounter, unlike Sukuna, is also another key strength. As a whole, Yuji is someone I’d call selfishly selfless, which sounds like a contradiction, but what I mean is he acts outwardly selfless on internally selfish principles. Truly, he wants to help people, he doesn’t want others to die horrible deaths, and he will act without reason if it means he can do that, life on the line and all. This is selfless. However, there’s always that selfish motivation, that desire to be known, to die surrounded by others, to have purpose. Yuji, despite how he seems, is a very lonely person, and it’s easy to forget this. He knows so many people, but very few truly know him, and he loses those that finally start to.

Yuji’s biggest flaw in my eyes stems from this loneliness, for a lonely person will often seek some kind of reason, of purpose, and will centre their life around this: Sukuna’s vessel, the only one who can save Megumi etc.

Yuji needs purpose, Sukuna needs no purpose: these are both flaws in context of their characters. I’m hoping this makes sense.

I think this Leads well into why I love their dynamic. They’re designed to complement each other, to be villain to the other’s hero. They are narratively cut from the same cloth: where one is the kind, the other is cruel, and where one is unbreakable, the other is fragile. You could say that neither could exist as they do now without the other, I mean, Yuji’s birth is connected with Sukuna somehow, and Sukuna could not have been incarnated without Yuji. They both drive the narrative because of this fact.

I think about that one Cain and Abel poem a lot in regards to them, I think it sums it up perfectly. “I want to kill him sometimes. I think sometimes he wants to die.” especially makes me think of them.

Apologies if this is messy, I’d usually try and structure something like this but I’m just passionately gushing here for the most part!

#asks #JJK #jjk spoilers #manga spoilers #Jujutsu kaisen #yuji itadori #itadori yuji #Sukuna #ryomen sukuna #they are so brothers to me in the WORST way

[holodecks-and-hennins]

TNG Original Costume Tests: Data

I don’t have the actual documentary, just the Trekcore caps, so forgive me if I miss anything, and feel free to add on if you have more info!

A central conflict in Data’s design is how to make him look like he’s definitely a robot, but also a robot designed to look like a human. It’s definitely an interesting uncanny valley balance to strike. In the costumes tests, differences from the Data we know and love are all over the place!

This Data has lighter hair and eyebrows, especially at the hairline; show!Data’s hair dye (not a wig--thanks for pointing this out, @yellowcakeuf6) is a more consistent color. Also, the contacts are slightly less green, and I think the pupils are smaller. And check out that blush! 

His haircut is pretty similar, but it looks like the Sideburn Bible wasn’t solidified by this point, because the sideburns are a lot weaker. (This also could have something to do with the hair color.)

It also looks like the lip color was a question; I think the choice to just have his face all white was probably good, because it keeps his android-ness without making him feel super duper inhuman.

There also appears to have been a kinda cursed pink Data phase. Sorry for making you witness this. It’s in the name of journalism! (Hey, besides the cursedness, this picture is actually pretty cute.)

There are a bunch of these slightly spooky pictures with a yellow eye and an orange eye. Fairly sure this was not an intent of heterochromia, but rather just to test the look of two at the same time.

🎶Beware the phantom of the Datopera!🎶

Thank you for journeying with me on this frightful journey through the land of contact lenses.

#star trek #tng #star trek designs #tng costume tests #data

[l0serloki]

good morning/afternoon/night (idk what time zone your in i’m so sorry 😭) can i ask for some chamber things with him doing some gun design with the reader around and y/n just admiring him? tysmmm <3

Admiring the View

Chamber x Reader

Summary : You admire your boyfriend Chamber whilst he is busy making guns. Turns out he has a surprise for you as well!

A/N : I'm slowly but surely making my way through all my requests. I originally had about 80 and had to go through and organize/clear some out.. I loved this idea though! Super sweet. If you have more requests please feel free to shoot. I feel like there's not a lot of Valorant readers recently but I'm still inspired!

masterlist

Chamber was a busy man. And he was definitely a busy man as more and more agents came to the protocol. The need for him to fix up guns increased, leaving you to sit and enjoy his presence. You didn’t mind that he was working. In fact it was something you enjoyed.

His deft fingers worked at the intricate metal, his eyes following the thin tool. His lips had narrowed into a thin line as he paid attention to any movement he pressed against it. His hands and body were so calm it was almost inhuman. Your eyes followed his steps as he continued the design, admiring how handsome he looked. 

You wouldn’t dare distract him from his craft, finding it much easier to admire him in this state. No flirty one liners coming out of his mouth, no over the top antics, just him. Plain and simple Vincent doing what he loves.

“Are you enjoying the show?” Vincent whispers out after a few minutes, his head cocking to the side. Your eyes widen as you get caught. 

“Maybe I am. What then?” You press and the Frenchman only grins. 

“Then I would be honored. A beauty such as yourself taking interest in me.. How endearing.” Chamber coos as he leans back, rubbing his thick fingers through his hair. That was another thing that had always impressed you. Chamber had large fingers. Not that that was a bad thing. It definitely was not when your imagination would wander. But it did make you question how he created such delicate designs. Seeing him move his pudgy fingers across his phone alone made you laugh. But when it came to his guns he was always precise. Always on target. It was quite impressive.

“Go back to your guns. I don’t want to hear it.” You tease and he only rolls his eyes.

“Whatever you say.” He laughs as he looks back down at his work. 

The calm and peaceful silence stays in the room for quite a while. You had nearly fallen asleep on the couch when you noticed movement. Chamber dug his heels into the ground, kneeling in front of you.

“Pour toi.” He hummed as he placed a beautiful sheriff in front of you. You had never seen such craftsmanship and effort on a gun before - let alone one you owned. Your eyes ran back and forth between the weapon and his grin.

“Really? You made this for me?” You whispered out and his hand patted your head.

“Of course. I could tell it was about time for an upgrade anyways. Your old one is looking a bit pathetic, no?” 

The fact that he had even noticed that was heartwarming. But for him to go out of his way to personally make you a new one? You felt beyond special.

“Vincent, this is so gorgeous. Thank you.” You leaned up to give the man a kiss, letting him know how much you appreciated the gesture. He reciprocated in earnest, his lips caressing yours as his hand gripped the back of your neck.

“I am glad you like it. I was happy to have your company while building it as well. You are as calming as a good classical piece, amour.” His breath flutters against your face as you lean in to press one more kiss against his nose.

“And you are so handsome while building. It’s my pleasure.” You bring your hand against his cheek to rub at the soft flesh. His smile turns into a smirk at your words.

“I am quite handsome aren’t I?” 

“Vincent..” You narrow your eyes as he laughs. His hand comes up to rest against yours as he gives you an affectionate stare.

“Sorry amour..”

#valorant #valorant imagines #chamber #chamber x reader #valorant chamber #chamber valorant #valorant headcanons #vincent fabron #chamber fluff #valorant fanfiction #valorant x reader #valorant x you

[cherubfae]

soft partner who is super strong || arcane x reader

with Vander, Silco, Viktor, Jayce, Caitlyn, Vi, & Jinx

tags: slight canon typical violence/explosions, alcohol consumption, cursing, established relationships, lots of fluff and silliness :3 gn!reader as usual! ;D

Vander

He enjoyed teasing you, keeping things out of your reach so that you'd have to ask for his help. He adored being your big, strong man and coming to your aid. Need the jar opened? You've got it! Can't reach those cups at the top shelf? Hang on, darlin', your Vander's got it!

Remodeling The Last Drop had been a spur of the moment ordeal. Two patrons had destroyed half the booze display shelf in a drunken brawl, leaving Vander to clean up the mess and shell out some coin to order the replacements. He would've rebuilt it himself if he had any lumber, but carpentry wood had been scarce as of late.

"Hey, love, which side would you like this to go?"

Vander lifts his head at your words, his eyes damn near popping out of his skull as you casually stop carrying the shelf-- heavy wooden drawers and glass doors in and all-- with such ease. Like you were carrying a bin of trash to the edge of the street."How in the bloody fuck are you doing that, darlin'?" He baffles, watching as you easily squeeze the shelf along its matching partner.

"Oh, you know. You bend down-- it's very important to lift with your legs not your back-- and you grasp your hands on both sides and--"

"Very funny, smartass." Vander doesn't bother to hide his chuckle. He then realized you never needed his help to open those jars in the first place.

Silco

The last thing this kingpin expected was to be caught up in the crossfires between his own men and the Firelights especially not when he was out and about with you. Silco also wasn't expecting you to completely rip off an entire steel paneling of a scrapped boat beached near the murky water and use it as a bloody shield. The two of you were able to return to his office without harm, Silco immediately pouring himself a glass of whiskey. He slumps into his seat with a heavy sigh.

"Darling," he starts, already sounding exasperated. "Just when were you going to tell me you had such gorgeous strength?" Silco toys with the lip of his glass, his eyes flickering to you. You grin wide, unphased.

Quickly, you chirped, "You never asked!" With your signature beaming smile. Silco fights the urge to smack his face with his hand.

"...I hadn't ever considered it a possibility to even ask, but consider me intrigued, dearest. What more can you do? Show me."

Viktor

He's lethally smart and typically a man who doesn't bother asking anyone for help, let alone you, his precious partner. Viktor is often determined to do everything on his own, with a very destructive mindset of 'I'm not useful if I'm not being productive' . Even for Piltover's smartest man, sometimes he did require extra help.

His latest invention was one of stealth and mass. A creation not unlike a Firelight's hovercraft, but much more heavy-duty. It wasn't built for a rider but to be used as a drone-- it was controlled completely by a remote device. Built to shoulder more cargo with an automated turret on the back. Somewhere buried in his mathematics, Viktor miscalculated the dimensions of the clamps meant to hold the mammoth device as he sat in front of it.

Before a ton of weight could come tumbling down on top of him, you had stopped it with ease. Lifting it high over your head, Viktor was in awe. What a true ethereal beauty you are.

Jayce

"I was thinking about this new design for the Atlas gauntlents--... H-How are you lifting that? That's impossible!" Jayce gawks. The sheer amount of iron you carried was inhuman, yet you carried it with such ease that would have the toughest brawler crying to be done. Back and forth, you placed all of his ingots used for smelting off to the side of Jayce's barren new workshop.

You give him an easy grin, smile teasing. "Iron isn't that heavy, Jayce." Shooting him a playful wink, you set the last bulk of the iron aside to return to planning out the blueprint for the forge. Jayce could only blink in disbelief, speechless, and shook his head. Maybe next time he could hire you to help him versus paying others to do it.

Caitlyn

There wasn't much that seemed to surprise Caitlyn anymore. Much of the true nature and cruelty of the world already lived right under Piltover's noses. The existence of Shimmer alone was proof of that.

While working a festival, an explosion near the city square alerted Caitlyn and the other Enforcers to the location. No doubt one of Silco's goons. She looked towards the booth where you had been worked, panic erupting in her stomach when she realized you weren't there.

Upon entering the scene, she was more alarmed than surprised to see you there, helping recover civilians trapped beneath the rubble using such super strength she'd never known you could do before.

Immediately she's at your side, assessing the damage and calling for backup and medical attention for those affected. She'll ask you of this later, for now, the civilians are more important. It was a miracle that you were there to help--and she was relieved you were unharmed. You were the miracle.

Vi

She knew you were strong and capabke of many things. She wasn't aware of one of those things being you could send an Enforcer through several brick and mortar walls. Let alone with a single punch! You truly never cease to amaze her!!

Vi's heart skips a beat in her chest. You wipe your hands across your pants, blowing away the remaining dust collected across your knuckles.

You haven't even broken skin, no sign of blood or marring across your seemingly delicate hands. When you face her, she's got a wide dopey grin on her face and makes the first comment that comes to mind.

"Holy shit, babe. That was hot."

Jinx

She, like everyone else, was quite well-aware of your strength. You enjoyed carrying her around with ease-- she enjoyed it too! The exact magnitude of strength, however, was a mystery.

Until the day finally came where she would learn just how truly powerful her partner was. A foot chase broke out between you and a downed Firelight. The perpetrator in question towing a large rucksack of valuables meant for the Chem-Barons. Jinx had been following the chase along the rooftops of Zaun, doing her best to keep up.

With a snarl, Jinx watched as you hefted a sturdy steel pole that your arms barely wrapped around and slammed it in front of the Firelights, narrowly crushing them beneath its sheer weight.

"Got'cha." You snarked, picking up the rucksack and tossing it over your shoulder. "Let's leave this one for Silco to deal with, honey." You crouch down and grab the unconscious Firelight's shoulder.

Jinx grinned wide. She wasn't used to seeing you so, so feral! She loved it!! You were normally so composed and gentle. She liked this side of you.

"You got it, toots!"

Ekko

The poor boy is a bit lost and confused. The Firelight's hoverboard gear was far from light, it certainly wasn't the heaviest, but he certainly hadn't expected his sweet partner to use the modified tech to smack an entire cargo blimp across the sky and into the sea near the docks.

Shimmering purple water bubbled to the surface, surely infested the already bizarre and chemically unnatural sea life that lurked beneath the water's depths.

"Whoa, I didn't know you had that sorta strength in ya!" Ekko folds his arms across his chest. "Not ideal that that stuff's in the ocean, but Zaun's done worse..." He shakes his head and hops onto his board, offering his hand to you. You accept and he hauls you up behind him. "Let's ditch this scene, yeah, babe?" He snickers, his mask distorting the sound slightly. His board zips to life, leaving green streaks in its wake.

|| I DON'T GIVE PERMISSION FOR MY WORKS TO BE REPOSTED, RESHARED, OR EDITED. TUMBLR IS MY ONLY ACCOUNT AND THE ONLY PLACE WHERE I POST MY WRITING. ALL CHARACTERS BELONG TO THEIR RIGHTFUL OWNERS, THE STORY BELONGS TO ME. || CHERUBFAE © 2023

#arcane imagines #arcane x reader #vander x reader #silco x reader #viktor x reader #jayce x reader #caitlyn kiramman x reader #vi x reader #jinx x reader #ekko x reader #arcane x you #cherubfae 2023

[yesitssam]

'The Sloughing'

TW BLOOD/GORE/BODY HORROR

In EgoVerse, 'Glitch Demons' have a sort of werewolf working system, where they change once a month into a more vicious, inhuman form. The form depends on the 'skin' but Anti's one has a spine for a neck and spindly but sharp claws.

I'll probably do a proper text post about how Glitch Demons work, but LOOK AT HIM!!! (I will add I got a lot of training from the lovely Koryabeebee since I had NO clue how to properly go for a gory boi)

I may tweak his design a lil' more, but I REALLY like his designs (Top middle holding up the head and the lil' comic)

#tw gore #tw body horror #tw blood #jacksepticeye #jacksepticegos #yesitssam #randomartdoodles #egoverse #jackyboyman #Antisepticeye

[mtkay13]

Wenzhou's first appearances and first time meeting!

I think those were my first serious attempts at illustrating TYK scenes? I do feel an itch to redraw the WKX one, to be honest, because his design and my way of drawing him changed a little. I also have another expression in mind -although this one isn't bad. I recently reread both passages -his first introduction/description and their first time meeting- and I love how expressionless and almost inhuman WKX is described. Although I think I managed some of that in my illustrations, I still hope I'll get a chance to try again later. Also! His nails are so short on the first meeting one, compared to how long I draw them now! That's funny.

ZZS hasn't changed much, though. Ever since I started obsessing with his book description, his design and face shape have been pretty solid in my mind. I have an interesting story about his mouth shape, though. I tend to prefer drawing plush, sexy lips. When I read the description of his "thin lips" in the books (both Qi Ye and TYK), I was quite dissappointed at first. I remember messaging at least 3 mandarin-speaking friends to confirm with them that the words used in mandarin (薄 in Qi Ye and 轻薄 in TYK) really weren't just a metaphor for something and had to be understood as "thin". That investigation sent me into a small rabbit hole: In QY, the description doesn't leave much room for interpretation. 薄means "thin", and that's it. Interestingly enough though, in the case of TYK, the fan translations all had a different interpretation for the whole sentence describing ZZS' mouth :

嘴唇却轻薄得很，叫那俊美的脸凭空添了一种薄情寡义的味道。

The word highlighted, 轻薄, has been translated as : "scornful", "contemptuous" and "very thin". According to the dictionary, it can mean "light", "frivolous", "a philanderer", "disrespectful", "to scorn". Pretty open to interpretation, then. But the interesting bit is in the following idiom, also highlighted : 薄情寡义. According to Lianzi, and later my own research, it is used to described someone who has no feelings nor attachment, or as a person who plays with hearts but never gets attached (a bunch of articles would use that expression to describe the type of men women should never date, lol). The sentence can then be turned into two widely different directions, right? Disrespectful can fit well with "someone who has no feelings". In my opinion, though, I like the idea of "frivolous" (or insouciant, as Lianzi translated it) being paired with it. A slight smile, almost charming, but devoid of any actual feelings. I think it suits the persona of someone who has had to deal with nobles and court people for the past 10 years, but who is also, now, empty inside and just can't wait for his freedom, wich is now within a few hours' reach. On top of that, ZZS tends, within the novel, to smile and laugh quite often, and he's quite the agreeable person, save for with ZCL and sometimes WKX. Clearly, when he lets his emotions and true self speak more, he does tend to be more prone to emotional outbursts, anger and grumpiness, but a semi-permanent light smile on his lips does feel very fitting, to me. Anway, that's it for the bigger-than-expected meta chunk on ZZS' mouth haha. I wish there was a lot to say about WKX's appearance too, but we don't have much to work with aside from ZZS just gawking at how beautiful and statuesque he is. No precise features to analyse and adapt, unfortunately. Anyway, thanks for reading!

#tian ya ke #wenzhou #zhou zishu #wen kexing #tyk #zzs #wkx #meta #design talk