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it-happened-one-fic · 1 month

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Sparring Sessions - Silver

Author Notes: So.. this fic is a sort of odd one in a lot of ways. I guess you could say I was inspired by a line from Silver's P.E. uniform where he says something about how he thinks Prefect has talent with a sword. To be honest, this fic has just been sitting in my google docs gathering dust and occasionally getting workshopped for quite some time. I really didn't know what else to post this week, so this one ended up being the lucky fic. As per usual, reader is gender-neutral. I hope you enjoy!

Type: Gender-neutral reader/ fluff/ platonic or romantic

Word count: 1154

I panted slightly. Sliding backwards through the sand but not landing on my butt through sheer willpower and determination. From across the sandy sparring area, found in the shadow of Diasomnia’s dorm, Silver straightened. Ever calm and elegant.

He didn’t look out of breath or the slightest bit worn out, despite the fact that I was struggling to even halfway keep up with his pace.

Why exactly had I agreed to learn swordplay from Silver? Because he’d certainly done a good job of marketing it. Good enough that I almost wanted to tell Azul he should think about hiring the young man if it wouldn’t bring quite so much trouble to Silver’s doorstep.

Nonetheless, Silver’s reasoning had been strong.

Swordplay would be a means by which I could defend myself and would ensure that I was better prepared for the next overblot, whenever and if another occurred. Additionally, I didn’t have magic and was likely to be taken advantage of. Being able to defend myself would lessen that risk too.

Silver had also gotten Sebek on the case, who was more than happy to praise the virtues of learning swordplay. Citing it as a way to strengthen character as well as make me more capable.

All of that, plus a longing for something to do outside of Crowley’s many tasks and homework, had led me to this point. Determinedly sparring with Silver yet again, in an effort to beat him at least once.

Of course, before this point, there had been my lengthy training. Malleus and Lilia had both been delighted when I’d showed up asking to be trained, with Lilia even offering to be the one to teach me.

It hadn’t been very long at all, though, before my prospective teacher had backpedaled out of his offers. And I’d been surprised, until I’d learned that Lilia had done this because Silver had, out of nowhere and to the utter delight of his father, stated that he had been planning on being the one to teach me.

And teach me he had. But Silver was not exactly a kind teacher. He wasn’t cruel by any means; far from it. But he also didn’t take it easy on me. And he pushed me hard.

I’d come here to learn, and learn I would. My safety was dependent on it. But I was thankful for the way he pushed me. He didn’t coddle me, which was what I wanted.

But, that said, it didn't make repetitively losing any more enjoyable.

I huffed slightly as Silver shifted, preparing to launch towards me and continue our little joust the moment it became clear that I wasn’t about to tumble over.

His eyebrows rose at my frustrated expression, his single reaction before he darted forward at what ought to be inhuman speeds. Unfortunately, though, he was simply that fast.

I’d learned that the hard way.

Silver would never use magic against me. After all, he was chivalrous and fair, just a bit air-headed at times. However, that meant he only ever used his own innate, albeit trained, capabilities. Even if they seemed vaguely superhuman.

At the very least, I was beginning to understand exactly why Sebek was so frustrated by his seniors' skills. Even though I knew he’d had to train just as hard as anyone else, Silver’s proficiency was definitely kind of annoying.

I dodged to the side and whirled, launching myself at him. Because I knew perfectly well that this was my only chance to get him down.

His eyes went wide as I collided with him, knocking him off balance and sending us both tumbling towards the hard ground.

And I could hardly believe my luck when his back hit the earth.

He let out a soft grunt just before I landed on top of him, my wooden sword pressing into the ground just next to him. I panted heavily, looking down with slight surprise at the similarly startled young man under me.

As shock wore away, I felt pride set in, and a pleased smile curled across my face, “Ha! I win.”

I couldn’t help but teasingly gloat a little, and Silver’s wide-eyed surprise was soon replaced by a slight smile. And, for a brief moment, I genuinely believed that his smile was one of pride in the fact that his student finally won their first bout.

In reality, though, it was anything but.

His hand curled around my wrist, and, with a sudden shove paired with a yank, I had been flipped over and forced onto my back. My wooden sword rolling pitifully away across the ground.

It was my turn to stare wide-eyed up at the young man who now knelt above me, pale hair hanging around his face as he looked down at me.

To make matters worse, one of his hands securely held my wrists pinned to the ground over my head, while the other held his wooden sword to my neck. There was no getting out of this one.

“Never proclaim your victory until it is sure.” Ever the teacher, even with that frustratingly charming, if small, smile still on his face.

For a brief second, I just stared up at him, shocked. And then I felt frustration well up within me.

I began to thrash around, attempting to break his grip or knock him off me, one. Neither happened, though.

Instead, Silver remained unmoved, looking down at me with that slight smile still playing on his face. His eyes gave away his amusement, though. Beautiful purple yet blue eyes gleaming down at me with barely concealed humor.

Normally such a sight was impossible to see, but I’d been getting better at reading Silver and his subtle expressions. It wasn’t that he didn’t get amusement from things; it was just that he had to keep himself calm or risk suddenly falling asleep.

I at last stopped, breathing heavily from exertion, and he tilted his head, ever-patient and not the slightest bit condescending, as he calmly questioned me, “Done?”

I huffed out a sigh, letting myself flop against the ground and turning my face away so that I was looking across the training area instead of up at him. Even then, though, I could still see him perfectly through my peripheral vision, “I yield.”

He nodded, his smile briefly reappearing as he shifted, got off me, and stood. He held out one hand, which I silently accepted, letting him pull me to my feet with ease.

He picked up my sword and watched silently as I brushed the sand off my gym uniform. I glanced over at him, waiting for him to speak, and he tilted his head, “Next Tuesday?”

The tell-tale glimmer in his eyes said everything, but I found myself grinning back at him because I would be lying if I said I wasn’t enjoying our little sparring sessions, even if he was a beyond frustrating opponent, “You’re on.”

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gripefroot · 5 months

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Cross-eyed and Tongue-tied

Follow up to this piece. Or rather, a prequel.

“Aren’t you done yet?”

Only years of practice not being startled by Law’s habitual reappearances and disappearances keep you from jolting in surprise. That, and the sixth sense you’d learned, noting how the air changes right before he does his little tricks.

Hunched over the pottery wheel that dominates your living space, you don’t flinch when he looms over to take a look at what you’re doing. The delicate work of slicing the tool through clay makes a pattern around the bowl sitting on the wheel, which took most of the afternoon. Only a few more minutes of decent sunlight remain, and they must be utilized. Your back hurts from strain, but that’s outweighed by satisfaction. Nearly done, but he can see that for himself.

“I’m hungry,” Law adds, like that will finish your process faster.

Teeth gnawing on your bottom lip, you don’t speed up at all. He knows how you work. His fussing is purely meant to set you on edge, you don’t doubt.

“You can leave without me,” you offer. “I’ll catch up.” Only a few more times around the rim. With a deep breath you pull away, spinning the wheel to the next side of the pot.

“Ha!” Law says. “If I leave without you, you’ll never come. You’ll probably find another pot to trim and get distracted making that.”

He has a point. The tool slices through the earthy-red clay, swirls for decoration that litter tiny shavings around the pot. Law leans closer, close enough for you to smell soap on his skin and hear his even breathing. He doesn’t put his hands on the wheel to brace himself, which is a mercy for both of you, because last time he’d done that, he’d been stabbed by the knife you’d been using and the platter had been sprayed with blood.

“Looks good.” His voice is a rumble that sends awareness up your spine.

“Thank you.” As far as you can go again. You turn the wheel. One more section and it’ll be done. Before you put the tool back against the rim, a sudden kiss on your cheek has you blinking, startled out of focus. “What was that for?” you ask, bemused. Glancing up for the first time to see Law grinning, his face barely inches away.

“A bribe,” he says.

“I’m almost done,” you tell him, crabbiness sharpening the words.

“And if we don’t leave soon, they’ll be sold out.”

“You must think the market is a bustling metropolis.” Bending over for the final time, you sink the tool into the pattern to continue. No sign of a break shows in the clay. A smile grows on your face, pleased at the outcome.

“Is it not?” Law asks. He still hovers. “My crew doubles the population.”

“Your crew single-handedly provides enough economy to keep the town afloat.”

Done. Setting down the tool, you slowly move the wheel around to admire the pattern in the bowl, snaking and criss-crossing through the red.

“Pretty,” he says.

“Complimenting won’t rush me,” you say.

“But you like it.”

“I love it.” With a laugh you stretch out your arms and back, the muscles protesting from overuse and tension. Law’s hands immediately go to your arms, rubbing in all the right places as a sigh and a moan fall from your lips.

“I can sell your stuff if you like,” he says.

“Huh?” The movement has made lights pop in your vision, shutting out your workspace as reality jerks you into the present. Work has a tendency to shut part of your brain off. “Sell it? Where?”

“Here and there.”

Stiffly you rotate on your stool to stand, shaking out your arms and legs. Law doesn’t back up (he never does) but he does tilt his head to the side, regarding you up and down. Then he starts to untie the apron around your back, a feeble attempt to keep your clothes tidy every day.

“Yeah?” you ask, amused by this offer. He loops the apron over your head to toss aside. “And let me guess. You’re going to upcharge for imports and make an astronomical amount of money, most of which will go into your pockets.”

Law frowned, pushing the rim of his hat higher. “It’s not easy, trade,” he says.

“It’s not easy being scammed by the man in my bed, either.” Most of the feeling has returned to your extremities. Enough that you tip forward on your toes to kiss that frown on his face, which eases into a crooked smile.

“I’m not scamming you,” he insists. “I’ll take a small cut. Not even enough to compensate for the time and effort it’ll take, so I’ll be losing money.”

“How very generous.”

“It’s a perfect plan,” he says. “You can’t ask for a better negotiator than me.” “Here’s what I think would happen,” you say with a smile, reaching over to pick up the tray the newly-decorated bowl sits on to take to a drying shelf. A nudge into your rear from behind doesn’t break your concentration, lifting the tray and turning on your heel with a narrowed glare at Law, who shrugs like he’d done nothing wrong. “You’re going to upcharge the heck out of my wares and people will buy them because you’re scary and mean.”

“Maybe.” He follows you into the next room, lit by the sunset through the cloudy windows. The earthy scent is home, stacks of fired dishes and drying pots filling the space to the brim. With a heave you hoist the tray onto a shelf, brushing your hands after stepping away.

“And then they’ll find out, eventually, that my products aren’t worth the price you charged.” Chin high, you regard Law across from you. Unrepentant, as always. He shrugs again, this time with a smile. “And who do you think they’ll take out their discontent on? You, scary and mean? Or the lady who made the subpar wares in the first place?”

Something flashed in his eyes. “They wouldn’t come after you.”

“Prove it. My name is stamped on the bottom of every single item.” You wave your hand at the room. Labeling all the products with your name is more vanity than anything, as everyone on the island knows you and your name. How could they not? Every one of their tables bears your dishes.

“Not your location,” Law says.

“But my location isn’t a secret, either. Plenty of people from this island have moved away and would recognize my name in an instant. I’d expect an angry mob at my door within six months of you carting away crates to charge an arm and a leg for.”

He snorts. “I don’t need to charge for an arm and a leg.”

“You know what I mean.”

“They wouldn’t dare attack someone with ties to me.” He seems to believe it, too, because as he says it his shoulders straighten out, standing a little taller. Hot, but not entirely convincing. Law acts mean, but behind that brittle exterior, you know better. How no one else seems to notice the melty tenderness in his eyes is a mystery. It’s so obvious. To you.

Then again, you wouldn’t want him as an enemy, either. He’s much better in bed.

“This is silly,” you say. “Let’s go get dinner.”

“I changed my mind.”

“What!”

A glint in his eyes betrays his desire. His intense desire. “Let’s go to bed early,” he says in a rough voice. A tingle has your toes curling, but you ignore it.

“No.” Lips pursed, annoyance flickering but too tempered by fondness to go anywhere, you stomp past him. The house is getting dark, and you grab a coat by the front door. One arm in, then the other.

“We can eat tomorrow.”

His voice in your ear makes you hiss, less equilibrated than you’d been while working. Why did he do this? Spring up on you without warning? He could walk like a normal person!

“You’ll be miserable all night, whining about being hungry,” you tell him.

“Promise I won’t.”

“I’ll be miserable all night, whining about being hungry.”

“No, you won’t. I’ll keep you too busy to be hungry.”

“How did we arrive here?” Halfway out the door, you turn with a laugh bubbling out. Law looked so miffed in the indigo night, hunched over and surly. “Does it turn you on when we bicker? Is disagreement foreplay to you?”

“So what if it is?” He pulls the door shut behind him. At the water pump in the front yard, you draw water to rinse your hands. Without a brush and soap it’s a cheap job, but works. Once your skin gleams you shut off the water, shaking your hands to dry. Law takes the steps down the yard one by one, gaze on you the entire time. Hands in his pockets. No coat.

“If it is,” you say, pulling the collar of your coat tighter against the chill in the air. Autumn’s claws dig into the island, especially at night. How he managed in a barely-buttoned black shirt, you don’t know. “Then I can be nastier.”

He stops where he is.

“Cruel,” you enunciate, but you can’t help smiling. “Absolutely villainous.” “Nah,” Law says, and resumes his way down the steps until he stops at the level of the water pump where you wait. “I don’t think you have it in you. How about you continue to be you and I’ll keep my thoughts about your mouth to myself?”

“No,” you say. Wait a minute, shifting your weight, and then prompt, “Did that turn you on?”

“You’re ridiculous.” But he smiles, shadowed by his hat. “Let’s go.”

You loop your arm through his, though he didn’t offer it. “What were you thinking about my mouth?” you ask softly, and his barked laugh echoes to the stars.

“Telling you would definitely constitute foreplay,” he says cheerfully. “Let’s save it for the walk back.”

Stars twinkled as the sky darkened, the worn trail to town only navigable by sheer practice. You could walk the path by memory, eyes closed and hog-tied. Leaning your head against his shoulder, his low hum tickles your ears.

“It’s almost winter again,” you muse, pointing at a constellation just visible on the horizon above the sea. One that only appeared during the cold months.

“Are you going to move to town again?” Law asks.

The cottage on the bluff is gorgeous in the summer, but winter winds from the sea tend to wriggle their way through the ramshackle windows and sagging walls. Cold hands make clumsy pots. Winters, for you, look like renting a room above the bakery to paint and fire dishes all winter in one of the baker’s ovens in exchange for new mixing bowls and jars for leaven.

Winter tastes like fresh, hot bread, and aching loneliness.

“Will you visit me if I do?” you ask. He rarely visited in the winter.

He’s quiet for a moment. Then, “How thick are the walls of the bakery?”

“Not thick enough,” you mutter.

“What was that?”

“Nothing.”

“I don’t like the idea of the baker’s six children peeping in,” Law says.

“The tailor says this winter will be mild, anyway,” you tell him. “I’ll chance it in my house.”

Ahead, the shining lights of the town appear between the slopes of the hills that, miles down, gives way to the sea. The track descends through dusty soil, scuffing into the air. The first houses of town are built in the hills, candlelight and firelight twinkling on either side as the path widens into a road and the noise of the market becomes audible.

“We’re lucky to find seats,” you say to Law a few minutes later. Stools at the noodle maker’s are hard to come by, especially with visitors. But Law’s crew appears to be occupied elsewhere; some flirting with women across the street, some notably absent.

“Are we?” he asks in a vague sort of voice. His tattooed fingers rub a pair of chopsticks together, as if seized by the sudden need to be busy. Barely visible beneath the rim of his hat, his eyes dart to his crewmates, narrow, and then drop to his hands.

“It’s a nice night. Everyone seems to be out enjoying the weather.” After the long, hot summer days, people in the town emerged to have their fill of company. It’s the same in spring. Smiling, you tap your feet to the beat of a guitarist nearby playing a lively tune. “It makes me want to dance,” you say.

Law snorts. “Don’t say that to Sachi.”

“Why, would he want to dance with me all night?”

Any amusement Law may have felt disappears. “Yes,” he says in a stony voice. Lips twitching, you nudge him with your elbow.

“Jealous?”

“I don’t want to dance with Sachi,” Law deadpans.

“No, would you be jealous of him? If he and I danced all night?”

“You aren’t going to dance all night with Sachi. You have a strict bedtime.”

“Since when!”

“Since just this second.” Law’s further bickering was smothered in a polite smile as two bowls of steaming noodle soup were slid across the bar of the stall. Fragrant steam fills your nose, stomach rumbling in response.

“Thank you, Saizu. It smells delicious.”

The noodle maker beams ear to ear. You’d never once seen him frown. “Ingredients have been cheap lately,” he says, wiping his hands on his apron. With no other orders, he’s inclined to chat. Law is disinclined; he starts to eat. “Ships to and from have been making their routes without getting harassed lately.”

The broth tastes even better than it smells. Saizu’s best batch yet: whatever ingredients he’s been getting must be made by the gods. It’s a few moments before you’re composed enough to ask,

“Pirates?”

“None that I’ve heard of,” Saizu says.

“I suppose I haven’t, either,” you say. Swallowing a clump of noodles, you turn to Law. “You’re the only one here that ventures out on the sea. Are there fewer pirates this year than normal?”

He chokes on his own noodles, a few splashes of broth hitting your coat. “Ahem.” He clears his throat. “Must be.”

Saizu nods wisely. “A few of my bowls have been dropped lately. Can I put in an order for a dozen more?”

“Of course,” you say. “Matching design or something new?”

“Whatever you’re inspired to do. I haven't seen anything you’ve made yet that I don’t like.” His smile never falters, never hesitates. “But I will say, the last batch you gave me is my favorite yet.”

Saizu has always been one of your best customers. And most generous with compliments: while you and Law eat, he picks up a bowl from a stack and holds it to the light, pointing out the colors and details he likes the best. The black accents, the flecks of minerals shimmering in the fired clay.

“I don’t know where you get your ideas for these designs,” Saizu goes on, tracing the ribbons of black around the base of the bowl. “Then again, I have the artistic abilities of a monkey.”

“Funny you say that,” you tell him. “Because I have the cooking abilities of a monkey.”

Saizu bellows with laughter. Law even snorts his amusement, finally coming up for air as the food in his bowl dwindles. Out of the corner of your eye you see him do a double take at the bowl Saizu still holds up to one of the hanging lanterns above the stall.

“That’s your bowl?” he blurts. “You made that?”

You meet Saizu’s eyes. “Are you asking me or Saizu?” you ask. “Because it’s his bowl. I made it. He makes what goes in it.”

“Are they all like that?” Law grabs his bowl of broth and lifts it, eyes widening as he sees the similar design on his own. He sets it back down slowly, though his knuckles have gone white.

“Don’t like it?” Saizu asks. Heat rushes to your face, aware of the reason behind Law’s reaction. It was no secret to you that Law is your muse. But you’ve never told him so.

“It’s fine.” Law’s voice cracks on the word. “Just fine.” He doesn’t meet your gaze, though you’re looking straight at his face. Before you can prod him for more, or confess, or something, a body straddles the stool on Law’s other side. And yours. Caged in by white uniforms.

“Hi, Penguin,” you say. “Sachi.” “Hiya,” Penguin says. “Captain.”

Law grunts. Not entirely pleased by the company.

“Good to see you again,” Sachi says. He’s on your side, facing you on his stool with significant enthusiasm. “Did you know Captain won’t drink out of anything but your mug?”

How many months Sachi has been holding onto that tidbit of information, you can’t begin to guess. But the speed at which he says it suggests many. Raising a brow, you ask,

“Is that so?”

“Sure as I’m sitting here.”

“Yeah,” Penguin chimes in from Law’s far side. He leans toward the bar to see you, half-concealed by Law’s slumped shoulders. “I’m surprised he doesn’t sleep with it.”

“Sounds chilly,” you say. Then, to Law’s defense, you add, “I didn’t know ships were the standard for dishware choices. How many mugs do you have to choose from that consistently choosing mine is so remarkable?”

“We have one set,” Law says. “And I have one cup, thank you.” His glare for Sachi zooms past your face.

Despite knowing Law for so long, he’d never commissioned you for his ships’ set of dishware. Gnawing on your lip, you remember, “You stole that cup.” It had been before dawn, over a year earlier, when you’d stayed in bed to blearily watch him dress to join his crew on his ship. He’d stopped at the door, plucked a mug out of a crate ready to be taken to the market, and left with it.

Penguin gasps. “Captain! You didn’t!” “Her prices are really reasonable,” Saizu chimes in.

“It was a memento.” Law pushes his empty bowl towards Saizu, who takes it.

“Of what!” you laugh.

Silence. Sachi breaks first into cackles, then Penguin, and then Saizu, clutching his belly for a laugh that echoes across the street.

“Of what?” you repeat, leaning closer to Law. His cheeks stain tomato-red, casting you a look. “No,” you say in a hushed voice. Laughter tries to bubble out of you, face burning, but you clap a hand over your mouth to keep from giggling.

“I meant to pay you back,” Law mutters.

“Wow!” Sachi grabs your hand from your mouth, splaying out your fingers like some sort of zoo creature. “Your fingernails are really long.”

“Yes,” you say. “I have no better tools than my own hands.”

“Ah,” Penguin gives a wise nod. “That explains it.”

“Definitely explains it,” Sachi agrees. “We’ll be sure to alert the crew that there was nothing to worry about.”

“Do you mind?” Law grits out between clenched teeth. “You’re not on shore leave to spend the entire time harassing me.”

“They’re harassing me,” you assure him. Then to his crewmates, “Explains what?”

Law grabs his cup to down water, as if the action will hide his blush. It doesn’t.

“Why Captain came back last time with his shoulders and back all torn up,” Penguin says. “I could’ve sworn he was attacked by a wild animal. Bepo said he lost a duel with a tree branch.”

Water sprays across the bar. Law hacks and hacks, face turning even redder. Penguin thumps him on the back several times before Law pushes him away.

“Oh,” you say. The prickling danger of Law lashing out is a cold tingle down your spine. As embarrassed as you wanted to be by this topic of discussion, the best course of action was clear: diffusement. “Are you sure that was me and not someone else?” you ask in a light voice.

“No, ma’am,” Sachi says. “You’re the only one.”

“What makes you so sure?”

Saizu wipes down the bar from Law’s spat water. To his credit, he doesn’t say anything about the conversation, or the mess it’s making.

“He rolls his eyes if we tease him about women favoring him anywhere else,” Sachi says.

“We mention you and he swaps our ears,” Penguin adds. “Sachi’s look terrible on me. Even worse than they do on him!”

“Hey!”

“Hey, yourself!”

“If you’re jealous that Law has something of mine and you don’t,” you interrupt. “I have a few dog bowls I can send along.”

Law’s cough turns into a choking laugh. To Saizu he says, “If I tell you these two hooligans are pirates, will you run them off for me?”

“Ha!” Saizu grins. “Your whole crew is so good-natured I wouldn’t believe it for a minute. Best merchants in the North Blue.”

The rest of your broth has chilled with the dropping evening temperatures. But you down it, anyway, smacking your lips together as you drop your chopsticks in the bowl. “Thanks again, Saizu,” you tell him. “And sorry about the highly-inappropriate interruptions.”

“It’s not every night I get a free show,” Saizu says, eyes twinkling.

Law slams a handful of coins on the counter. “Keep the change.” Saizu chuckles, and sweeps them into his pocket.

“I don’t think that pays her back for the cup, Captain,” Sachi says.

“Go kiss a sea sponge,” Law retorts. Twisting on his stool, he hops down in your direction, fingers curling over your wrist. “Let’s go.”

“Good night, Saizu!” you call, already dragged away from the warm lights. Law is mightily determined when he chooses to be. “Bye Penguin! Not with tongue, Sachi!”

“You!” Law hisses when the noise of the market was fading behind you.

“Me?” you ask indignantly. “You stole my cup! And you never paid for it!” “I thought you noticed!”

“I did!”

“Then why didn’t you tell me before?”

Away from the main market thoroughfare, the night was dark, and darker between buildings and houses. Law stops in his tracks outside the baker’s, where only a faint light could be seen from upstairs where the family lived. You squint to see his face better, backlit by the market lights.

“I forgot,” you admit.

“You forgot,” he repeats.

“Yes.” Another rush of heat rises from your neck to your face. “Call me crazy, Law, but when you’re around my mind is on other things than a missing cup!”

His eyes close briefly. When they open again, they’re gleaming, fastened on your face. His intensity makes you squirm more than Sachi and Penguin’s teasing had. He’s standing near enough that your neck cranes upward. Shoving your hands in your pockets, you lift your chin to meet his eyes.

“I’m glad you took it,” you say. “That way you won’t forget me.”

“Forget you?” Law’s laugh is low and rough. After a pause he adds, “I’ll take the dog bowls. Add them to my tab.”

“Oh, you have a tab now?”

“Don’t I?”

Mulishly you scuff your shoes in the dirt. Nose crinkled with unwillingness to relent. “I’ll require down payment,” you tell him.

“Oh?”

“It doesn’t have to be cash.” Gnawing on your lips, and glancing around to make sure no one was in earshot, you tack on, “Does getting your mouth and tongue all over that cup remind you of me?”

“No,” Law says. “It doesn’t talk back.”

“Look who’s talking.”

“I don’t tongue it. That’s weird.”

“Tongue me, then.”

“Take off your pants and I will.”

“Oh, yeah? Here and now? Where a few dozen people will be walking by in the next fifteen minutes?”

“I’ll do it,” Law says. A shiver goes up your spine. The rumble of his voice is difficult not to believe, the breadth of his chest only a whisper away. The corner of his mouth lifts in a smirk. Lower, now, he continues: “But you have to tell me why you’re putting my tattoo designs on soup bowls and selling them.”

Ugh. You should’ve known that would come back to bite you.

“Because I think about you when I’m making pottery,” you tell him. Any hint of shame, he’d sniff out. Any suggestion of insecurity, and he’d pounce. He tended to do that, skirting around conversations as if they were battlefields. You’d learned long ago that the appearance of surrender brought him closer.

His brows raise, as if shifting through the meaning behind your confession. “Is that the only time?”

“No. I think about you a lot.”

Most of the time. Almost always. Life didn’t often require your full attention: making pots and bowls and platters was as mindless as folding laundry. And your singing chases birds away. Filling your mind with memories of the past or hope for the future with him kept the hours of dragging on too long.

“So.” Law’s fingers reach out to brush against yours, but he doesn’t take your hand. Not yet. A breeze tickles his shirt, fluttering the short sleeves and the hem. How hadn’t Saizu noticed the similarities between his precious soup bowls and the exposed swirls on Law’s chest? You could draw the patterns in your sleep. “About this down payment.” His half-smirk blooms into a grin. He must have liked what you’d said.

Tipping forward on your toes, you smile up at him. “What do you have to offer, Trafalgar?”

He shrugs. “My body, mostly.” “Best merchants in the North Blue,” you laugh. “Saizu thinks a lot of you. And here you are, offering sex for dishes.”

“I know what you like,” Law says. His fingers press into the inside of your wrist before skating higher, slipping beneath the sleeve of your coat. “I have strong negotiation power.”

“I know what makes you cross-eyed and tongue-tied,” you counter. “My negotiation power is just as strong.”

He grips your arm, tugging you along as he walks backward into the darkened alley. His smile is briefly lit by the market lights before blackness swallows him up. A moment later, and you’re swallowed, too.

Without warning you’re pushed against a stone wall, the gasp of surprise swallowed up by Law’s mouth covering yours with unerring accuracy. His hands are all over your front, his mouth devouring. And you yield: your fingers clutch around his neck, tickled by his hair escaping from his hat.

“Mmm,” resonates from his chest. Your hands slide down, finding his hot skin every inch of the way. Beneath his collar, over his shoulders. The night isn’t so chilly with his body snug against yours and heat building between your legs like a furnace.

A burst of laughter escalates from your middle to your throat and out of your mouth. Law gives a grunt of displeasures when he pulls away. “What’s that for?” he asks roughly.

“I didn’t realize I scratched you up so bad,” you admit. “I’m sorry. Especially since your crew has been giving you a hard time.”

“You’re giving me a hard time.” His lighting quip is punctuated by his hips angling into yours. Not willing to be drawn into a discussion of his crew, then.

“Oh, my,” you coo, still on the verge of laughter. “That feels uncomfortable. Are you suffering?”

“Immensely.”

“And after one kiss?”

“One - ” Law nearly croaks. “I’ve been fantasizing about this all day. Don’t you remember?”

Vague memories from his interruption at your pottery wheel and verbal foreplay surface in your mind. Gripping onto his shoulders, but with the pads of your fingers instead of the nails, you hum, nodding. “You may have mentioned it,” you say. Pinned in place by his body, you tip forward to find his jaw with your lips. “Once.” A kiss. “Twice.” Another. “All-freaking-day.” Down to his throat, where you bite the flesh near his Adam’s apple. Law’s laugh vibrates through your mouth.

“Your fingers are ice,” he says. He wraps his own, much warmer, much larger fingers around yours, pulling them gently away from his shoulders.

“Don’t tell me you’re shy now,” you tell him.

“I’m not. I want to go home where you can get warm enough not to make my balls shrivel up from these icicles.” Brows raised, he makes his point by rubbing your fingers together between his hands, warm blossoming like a summer sun-kiss.

Home. Home. He thought of your house as home?

Law stops rubbing your fingers. “What’s with the look?”

No weakness. He’ll sniff it out. “Nothing,” you say. “It’s a long walk back, are you sure you’re up for ten minutes of chastity?”

Amusement flicks his lips upward, then long-suffering stamps them back down. Mouth drawn in a line, Law drapes a long arm around your waist until your chests are pressed together like clay, ready to be pinched together to be sealed for eternity. A leap in your chest causes a gasp, his eyes sparkling like dark diamonds as he studies your face.

“Hmm,” he says.

His mouth descends on yours. And sometime during that kiss, the building behind you isn’t blocking the wind anymore; but a brisk, sea-breeze sizzles through your clothes to pop goosepimples up and down your skin. With a shriek you jump in Law’s embrace, cheeks stinging with cold. Above his head, the moon shines. No longer blocked out by the bluffs protecting the town, or the town itself; a harsh, pearly light.

“I hate it when you do that,” you say, but it’s a half-hearted complaint. He’s warm and you’re not: you snuggle in closer to his chest, putting your cheek on the top of a black whorl immortalized in Saizu’s bowls.

“I know.” Lips send more warmth from your scalp to your tippy-toes. “That’s why I do it.”

“And that’s your romantic way of trying to earn a long, cozy night of lovemaking?”

“I think I clinched that back in the alley,” Law says. “If not three years ago.”

Little prick. You set your chin on his chest to glare up at him, but he only grins unrepentantly back. He’s right and he knows it. That’s what’s so insufferable.

“Carry me inside and we’ll see,” you say by way of negotiation.

His grin widens. “Actually,” he says. “I have a better idea.”

You catch on when his arm becomes a vise around your waist. “Law, no!”

But it’s too late. The night sky spins in black and moonlight and starlight.

#trafalgar d law x reader #trafalgar law #one piece #one piece fanfiction #trafalgar d water law

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archangeldyke-all · 1 month

Note

I know Sevika has her way with cards in a gambling sense but how about being a tarot card reader. It’s a shady business ofc but she’s just genuinely super good at reading people and bulshitting her way into people’s heads. She’d definitely pull the lovers card to get reader to go out with them. Oh and she’s HELLA charming, instead of scamming reader to buy some shit she’s “scamming” reader into going on a date with her.

this is SO cutelas;djf;laskdjf

men and minors dni

the markets of zaun are a wild place. whether you need a mercenary, exotic fruit, poisonous animals, or supernatural powers: you can find it all in the filthy, crowded, markets.

sevika learned at a young age that the key to surviving zaun was all about marketability. nobody in the under-city gives a fuck if someone;s fat or skinny, but they'd take interest in hearing that someone'd make a good bouncer or could fit in the tight spaces in the mine shafts.

nobody's going to pay an artist to paint-- but they might pay them to tattoo their skull or draw a caricature of them.

sevika's always known she's good at reading people: she just never knew how she could sell that to someone.

and then she discovered tarot cards.

within a month of her getting her first deck, she'd made enough money scamming people to buy her own storefront in the markets.

and now, she's running an incredibly lucrative business.

despite the fact that her store is decorated with various silky fabrics and crystal columns, despite the astrology posters on the walls and the candles and insence always burning: sevika uses no psychic powers in her readings.

it's mostly bullshit. occasionally, the 'official meanings' of the cards will line up with what she says, but she mostly just says what she knows her customers want to hear. (and sometimes what they need to hear.)

it's easy. the customer comes in, sevika takes one hard, good look at them, and nine times out of ten, she's able to figure out what they're hoping to hear.

then, once she gets them talking and gets the details out-- she's able to bullshit some pretty accurate guesses about their lives, just to convince them they're in the presence of a 'true psychic.'

some people need encouragement-- to quit their jobs or to ask someone out. some people need a 'sign'-- that their deceased love one is protecting them, that things will be okay. some people just want an answer, stuck on a pointless question and unable to move on until they get closure. sevika's happy to supply. especially for how much they're paying her.

you work at the exotic pet store a few shops down from sevika's.

you're the only one who can see through her bullshit.

she's in love with you.

each day, around one in the afternoon, she takes a smoke break at the little table in front of her shop, waiting for you to walk by on your way to lunch.

each time, you smile at her, roll your eyes, and ask, "scammed anymore innocent believers today sev?"

"made three hundred bucks since we opened." she boasts. "want me to take you to dinner with the earnings?" she asks. you laugh and flip her off, continuing your walk.

sometimes she'll come visit you when her days are slow. if you're not busy, she'll 'give you a reading' at the counter of the shop, whispering so neither of you alert your manager that you're not working.

she has to shuffle and organize them before she comes in, because each and every time she's 'giving you a reading' she pulls the lovers, and grins at you. "looks like you've got a blossoming love interest." she says. you snort and roll your eyes.

"oh, do i? pull another, tell me what they're like."

sevika grins, pulling three more cards. "oh. i'm seeing here that she's... tall... strong... hmm... definitely rich..." she says. you snort, and sevika peeks one eye open at you. "half ponytail... her name starts with an 's' sound... ssssarah?" she tries. "no... that's not right..." she blinks at you for help, and you burst into laughter.

"get out of here, my manager's gonna be back from lunch soon." you say. sevika blows a kiss at you on her way out.

you can't deny that she's charming. you understand why so many gullible customers trust her with their lives. you watch her walk back toward her shop through the window, biting your lip as you watch her ass sway.

she finally asks you out after a few months of you guys flirting.

all day, you have people coming into your shop, finding you, and handing you flowers. each time you ask them why, they shrug, simply saying that their psychic told them to give flowers to the 'closest beautiful woman' they could find.

most of them assume that you're going to fall in love with them the second they hand you the bundle of flowers-- not knowing that their psychic is using them and their desperation for love to secondhand hit on you. you just thank them, smiling sweetly before letting them down gently, encouraging them to try the next girl they see.

you're exhausted by the end of the night, and about ready to strangle sevika.

but as you leave you bump into her. at the sight of her, all your frustrations from the annoying little prank she pulled melt away.

she's in a fancy suit, her hair neatly combed behind her ears, her eyes nervous-- darting around and never quite meeting your eye. she holds no tarot cards, only a single red rose that she thrusts into your chest the second she sees you.

you stare sweetly down at the rose, sighing softly before speaking. "you're so fucking annoying." you say, warmly. sevika chuckles nervously.

"do you want to go on a date with me?" she asks. you smirk, looking up from the rose to admire her.

"well, i should probably ask my tarot reader-- i trust her with my life." you say. sevika grins, reaches behind her, then pulls the lovers card from somewhere behind her back. you burst into laughter.

"the cards say yes." she says. you roll your eyes, reaching out to smack her shoulder, melting a bit at the sweet smile she shoots you. "...so?" she asks.

"fine." you say, giggling. "i guess i can't go against the cards, huh?" you ask.

sevika just grins, swooping in to kiss you.

taglist!

@fyeahnix @sapphicsgirl @half-of-a-gay @ellabslut @thesevi0lentdelights @sexysapphicshopowner @shimtarofstupidity @love-sugarr @chuucanchuucan @222danielaa @badbye666 @femme-historian @lia-winther @gr0ssz0mbi3 @ellsss @sevikaspillowprincess @leomatsuzaki @emiliabby @sevikasbeloved @hellorai

#sevika #sevika imagine #sevika arcane #sevika x reader #sevika x you #soft sevika

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traumabuddies · 1 year

Note

"why are you limping?"

This kinda turned into "2 times Buck's limping because sex with Eddie was too good and 1 time he wishes it was the reason"

"Why are you limping?"

Damn it, Buck thinks, closing his eyes at Bobby's question and begging the heat not to crawl too high up his face. He thought he might have been able to hide it, but clearly the hitch in his step is much too obvious to miss.

Buck is just glad he's early and no one else from A shift is at the station yet, because he would have never heard the end of it.

Definitely would not have been able to fool them all.

"Nothing," he says, washing his hands to join Bobby in making lunch at the counter. They've learned that it's better to cook earlier when they have time and reheat the food later than waste time doing it when they might only have minutes to sit down for lunch.

Bobby gives him a skeptical look. "Are you sure? If you hurt yourself on your last shift, you have to tell me."

"Yeah, cap, I'm sure," Buck says, wracking his brain for an explanation. "I think I have a cramp or something, it'll pass."

"Alright, if you say so. Hand me the knife."

Bobby seems happy to let it go, and Buck thanks whatever higher power is out there as he does what he's told.

He does not want to tell his Captain that his boyfriend fucked him so good last night he can barely walk—no thank you, he'd rather die.

—

Walking from stand to stand at the food market is more fun than Buck remembers being, although it might be because the sun is out without it being so hot that he's gonna get sunburned.

And walking isn't the most comfortable thing to do today, but it's worth going through if it means watching Jee-Yun tug on her dad's hand to get to the strawberries quicker—she's been on a strawberry kick lately, or so her parents have said.

Speaking of which, Maddie waits for Jee and Chim to be further along before stopping him with a hand on his wrist and frowning at him.

"Okay, why are you limping?"

Oh, god, no, not again. It was one thing for Bobby to ask last time, in a professional environment where Buck could guess he wouldn't push.

It's another thing for his sister to notice, because she does like to push when she's concerned, and Buck is also never able to lie to her.

"Well, uh," he says, balancing from one foot to the other. He regrets it immediately, hissing as pain flairs up his ass. The worst aprt is, he likes it. He's going to hell. "It's nothing, I think I, uh—twisted my ankle."

"Your ankle, Buck? Seriously?" she deadpans. "If you'd twisted your ankle, you'd have texted me about it to complaining about how stupid it is."

"No, I wouldn't, because I wouldn't want you fussing."

"But you're admitting that's not what it is?"

Shit. Her cocked eyebrow is incredibly annoying.

He huffs, feels his neck grow uncomfortably hot. "Come on, Maddie, can't you just let it go—"

"Evan," she gasps silently, her eyes going wide with the laughter she lets out a second later. Buck freezes. "I should have figured, the last time I was limping like this was when Chimn and I stayed at this hotel and—"

"Ew, Maddie, gross," Buck says, swatting her hand away.

He likes to hear her laugh, always, but she's being a complete menace right now, which isn't fair. He thought that was his job.

"Fine, fine, but you didn't deny it," she says, grinning up at him.

He rolls his eyes, but he once again finds himself victim to his inability to lie to her. "Yeah, well, maybe you're right, okay? But can we stop talking about it, please?" he begs through gritted teeth.

He's not mad, or annoyed, but honestly? Kind of embarrassed.

But Maddie just lights up even more. "Why, you deserve some good things! I should send a gift basket to whoever treated you so well."

It's his time to grin at her. "Well, you know Eddie's address."

He pats her shoulder, watches in real time as her brain short-circuits with that information, and then walks away to join his niece.

"Wait, Eddie?"

—

The door to his apartment opens and Buck definitely doesn't startle, because he was expecting it.

He just kind of, maybe, forgot that Eddie was coming over this early, and so he jumps where he's sitting on the couch, causing what feels like every muscle in his body to lock up.

"Hey, babe," Eddie says with a blinding smile when he finally comes into view in the kitchen, where he's laying out the take out food he promised he'd come with.

"Hey," Buck says, hissing as he gets up. The pain in his lower back and tail-bone is just as bad as it was thirty minutes ago, shooting up his spine with every step.

He must not be able to hide it, or maybe he's not imagining the faces he's pulling, because Eddie is at his side in a second, concern swimming in his eyes and painting his hovering hands.

"Buck, you okay? Why are you limping?"

Buck can't help the laugh that bubbles out of him, although it's cut short when he takes a last step towards Eddie to kiss his lips with a small peck.

"What's so funny?" Eddie asks, looking at him like he's crazy—he probably is.

"Nothing, it's just that usually when people ask me that it's because you've pounded me into the mattress like you were hoping I wouldn't be able to walk," he says.

He's rewarded with Eddie's rosy cheeks, the ones that only appear when Buck is being overtly flirty or raunchy with his words. He doesn't hdie anymore the way he did at the beginning, but his cheeks? They still flush, and it's always the most enjoyable sight.

And then Eddie frowns, checking Buck over.

"Wait, I know I didn't pound you into anything last night, so unless you got a little crazy with toys, what happened?"

With a grown, Buck lets himself fall into his boyfriend, hiding his face in his neck. "Fell down the stairs," he mumbles, hoping to distract Eddie with a press of his lips.

It doesn't work. Instead, Eddie lets out a soft, sudden laugh, but his hands on his lower back are soothing, like he knows exactly where it hurts. "And how did you manage that?"

"I don't know, I was going a little fast, I guess."

"So you were running. Down the stairs, like a child?"

"Leave me alone, I'm in pain."

"Enough to go to the hospital?"

"No," Buck says quickly, wrapping his arms around Eddie.

Eddie hums. "Well then, I get to scold you for being an idiot."

Every one of Eddie's words is lace with the kind of fondness reserved for him and Christopher, something soft and caring, that says, I'm here for you.

"But I'm your idiot," Buck says.

Eddie sighs, and kisses the crown of his head in the same breath. "Of course you are."

send me prompts!

#ask #prompts #911 #buddie #911 fic #lex.writing

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missashketchum · 1 month

Text

Dorm Leaders with Ash's Pokemon!

It's time for Dorm Leaders with Ash's Pokemon headcanons!

Enjoy!

Riddle- Bulbasaur

Bulbasaur is the ringleader of Ash's Pokemon, and Riddle respects it a lot

to be able to keep 50+ chaotic Pokemon in line, despite many of them having the ability to toss Bulbasaur around like a salad

respect

Bulbasaur also has none of the Adeuce shenanigans and is constantly using his vines to stop them

Riddle and Bulbasaur have very peaceful teatime with each other

and by peaceful, I mean the two relax at a table drinking tea and eating cookies

while Ace, Deuce, Grim and Ash goof around

they need the "parental supervision" a Riddle put it

ignoring the fact that Ash has raised Pokemon from eggs like they were her own kids lol

all in all, Riddle and Bulbasaur are actually the most peaceful duo in this entire thing

Leona- Rowlet

ever since Rowlet arrived in TWST, Leona has been waking up with it sleeping somewhere near him

next to him

on his lap

on his shoulder

it was in his hair once

and every single time when he woke up, he would either scare Rowlet awake so it would fly away, or he'd just throw it

but last time he threw Rowlet, Ash threw him, so no more throwing Rowlet

as time went on, he sorta just learned to accept the fact that Rowlet was now his sleeping buddy

and no matter where he hid, he would always be found

no one brings it up to him either, because who wants to tell leona kingscholar that he's getting friendly with a fricking owl

that's right, no one

except Ash, of course >:)

Azul- Dracovish

Azul thoughts Dracovish was kinda derpy (tbh, he kinda still does)

but when he sees Dracovish's Fishious Rend practically obliterate the practice dummies

he suddenly glad that Ash didn't use Dracovish on him when he Overblot...

she did, he just doesn't remember :/

Dracovish was relentless btw

Dracovish loves being petted, and once jumped into the Octavinelle water tank just to make Azul get out of his office

then, once Azul gets out of the office, Dracovish pops out and asks for pets

at this point, Azul caught onto it, but doesn't have the heart to stop it

he won't admit it, but he does like Dracovish

Kalim- Totodile

Kalim and Totodile meet for the first time

then Ash has trouble getting Totodile to go back to Ramshackle with her

the two are immediately glued together and dancing and playing around in the water

jamil is tired

they're literally best friends when the day ends

Kalim and Totodile are hugging each other, huge crocodile tears in their eyes as Jamil and Ash have to physically separate them because it is past curfew, dammit Kalim

Kalim is actually one of the very very few that a majority of Ash's Pokemon like

Totodile especially

did I mention that they're best friends now?

cause they are

it's fun loving Water UM/Type solidarity

Vil- Unfezant

ahhh Unfezant

so agile, so graceful

done so dirty in all of her battles, she deserves better

Vil first meets Unezant as she's flying around with Ash's other Flying-types, and he's never seen a bird do as many elegant aerial tricks as her

is intrigued with how well maintained she is

meanwhile, Unfezant is wondering who the hell this boy is and why he's looking at her like that

is, ironically, unsettled by Vil at first because all he does when he sees her is analyze her, which makes her very uncomfortable

retaliates by sending string gusts of wind to mess up his hair

and Ash has to proceed to tell a very irate Vil that he's making Unfezant very uncomfy and the wind thing was her way of making him stop

guess Rook rubbed off on him more than he's like to admit...

slowly, Vil begins to actually talk to Unfezant, especially complimenting her flying prowess, and Unfezant starts to kind of like him a bit

now messes his hair up as a sign of appreciation :)

Idia- Pikachu

literally who else could I pick?

the biggest lil shit there is >:)

despite being a cat guy, Idia was immediately interested in Ash's only Electric-type

"kinda like a marketable plushie..."

was almost zapped for that comment

but he WAS zapped for picking Pikachu up to look at him

Ash tried to warn him, even went to grab Pikachu back from him

cue Pikachu zapping BOTH of them

cue Ash having to explain that Pikachu does that with people he doesn't like

also cue Ash having to explain that she's used to it because Pikachu literally electrocutes her as a sign of affection

Idia is mildly concerned, but seeing as she isn't hurt he lets it slide

tries to keep making friends with Grim and Pikachu and the two are not having a good time :/

keep the crazy cat boy away from the electric mouse pls

Malleus- Charizard

“ah, what a fearsome yet protective dragon you have”

“but… Charizard’s not a dragon…?”

cue blue screen

he even has Ash pull it up on one of her Pokédex’s

sure enough, not a dragon

at this point, with what happened with iris, Ash is used to people mistaking Charizard for a dragon

Charizard, however, is a bit ofended (cuz that's just how he is 😅)

so he tries to flame Malleus

doesn't work on him, but Ash gets caught in the crossfire and gets covered in soot

cue malleus being genuinely concerned for the human

cue ash having to explain she's used to it and it's a sign of affection

again

rather impressed with Charizard's display of moves

"dragon tail?"

"he's not a dragon >:T"

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isawken · 1 year

Text

disco elysium and transmasculinity:

i don't want to be this kind of animal anymore

there is no such thing as an inherently masculine trait, only those which we have culturally prescribed to be masculine. muscular, tall, strong, stoic. self-destructive. repressive. angry. unhinged. violent. addictive.

Disco Elysium markets itself with the tagline “what kind of cop are you?”. to put it bluntly: you get to choose what man you want to be. the actual gameplay mechanic is the game keeps track of your dialogue choices and, among other RPG things, neatly divvies them up into 4 main Cop Categories: Sorry Cop, Apocalypse Cop, Superstar Cop, Boring Cop. after some time establishing your identity you can branch off into 3 other copotypes: honor cop, art cop, and hobocop. These are all exactly what you think they would be.

a supremacist stands tall, immovable, shirtless, tattooed, in the way of one of your objectives, and if you let him he will tell you all the ways your body betrays your degeneracy. all the indulgences you make, with drugs and alcohol and sex, are allegedly clear as day written across your reddened swollen face. you are not a man. you are pathetic. a pair of women reassure his divine masculinity even when he admits his impotence. there’s no denying it: that’s one man of a man right there.

your former detective partner is an eternally scowling pockmark faced asshole. he approaches every interaction with you with a nice solid baseline of aggression. if you choose to put your points into something called “espirit de corps”, you get small vignettes of his previous actions. in one of them, it’s joked that you two are near-marital in your relationship. in some of them, he worries about you. muttering under his breath, mostly to himself, not unkindly. but he certainly never shows that to you face to face.

two old men play pétanque outside every day by the sea. they have done this for years. they have known each other since they were kids. one is a fascist, the other a democratic socialst. if you’re nosy, you can go to the watchman’s post and find a picture of him, his socialist buddy, and a young woman whose attentions they supposedly both vied for. if you decide to become a fascist, the game gives you something more. your abilities Pain Threshold, Composure, Endurance, Volition, Conceptualization, and Inland Empire take turns showing you tiny slices of a truth viciously stamped beneath the heel of his brilliant boot. a love for his dear hated socialist. and when he dies, that socialist tells you the same. but they never told each other. never even came close. because how could you?

harry dubois wakes up face down ass up covered in piss and vomit and full of foggy confusion after drinking himself into amnesia. he's tall, he's got giant arms, a proud beer gut, and he's self-destructed himself into literal oblivion. this pitiful bastard doesn't even remember his own name. the first person he encounters outside of the hotel room in which he fucked himself up beyond his limbic system’s reach tells him at some point during his bingeful weekend she heard him scream, "i dont want to be this kind of animal anymore". you don’t know why you said this. but after a while you have some pretty good guesses.

i could talk forever about the unique circumstances of growing up as a girl in modern western society. but i have nothing interesting to say that hasn't already been said much more eloquently. learning to hate my body, learning to be afraid, learning that you need to want to be consumed. the eternal unpacking of all the issues a patriarchal society burdens you with. it never ends. but i've at least reached a point where i've done my base legwork. i know the oppression i've fought. it is nameable. i have labeled each and every patriarchal burden like a so many papers in a filing cabinet. few are going in the shredder, but at least they're known. next to that filing cabinet, i have a big pile of loose papers slowly sliding off a desk with the word "masculinity" in neon lights flickering above them. i want to dive into those papers. but the thought of it fills me with such apprehension. i've always wanted masculinity. i've purposefully adopted affectations to make myself more stereotypically masculine. most are hilariously shallow, and not exactly innovative. i smoked camels for 8 years. i drink my coffee black. i picked up a nice little alcohol habit. i've shoved down more feelings than i would ever willingly admit in the hopes to appear unbothered. I’ve told myself to “man the fuck up” my fair share of times. none of it got rid of my hips or my tits or my anxiety or my painfully high pitched voice. i’ve quit smoking. i sometimes think i should start again for many reasons, but one is in the hope that my voice will drop. just one octave. at least. it’s silly, i know. believe me. i know.

when harry drags his sorry ass out of that hotel room, he isn't free of his past. he has shadows in his mind reminding him of the things he's forgotten. shadows that still influence his views of masculinity. there is no way to truly escape the bitter leaden paint stuck to the inside of your mind so violently applied by our beloved patriarchal society. there is a hilarious dialogue option where, if you so choose, you can proclaim that you would never let anyone androgynous touch your hair. because the “others” (unnamed) would laugh at you. here we have a man who cant remember his own name, but he is certain that he absolutely cannot under any circumstances have a non-manly haircut for fear of mockery and rejection by his peers. how many coats of that leadened paint must have adhered to his poor, poor limbic system that even when he’s forgotten the concept of money, he still knows about the boundaries of masculinity.

as harry tries to be a good person (or a fascist or a doom prophet or a disco superstar) he cannot really shake the pieces of himself that make him him. and he meets another bastion of masculinity, kim kitsuragi immeasurably measured, willful, and kind (for a cop), he helps you rediscover the world around you as you try to rewrite your tabula rasa'd self. he is firm, but nice. he lets you make your choices and mistakes. and he only stops supporting you when you start fucking up like, literally everything, and indulging in racism. naturally, there is a lot of fanart of them kissing, and yearning. both are beacons of masculinity, different sides of the same coin. where harry is physically imposing, kim is slight. where kim is calm cool and collected, harry will break down crying after a brief conversation with his necktie. but both are undeniably masculine. i mean, they’re cops after all. what more masculine profession is there?

as kind as kim is to you in your lowest possible state, it can be easy to overlook the ways in which he is not kind. when you tell him you think you really, seriously, need to go to the hospital, seriously kim i can't even remember my name i think i could have brain damage, kim responds with the equivalent of "walk it off" by encouraging you to start working on the case and see if that makes you feel better instead. it is in this light that you recognize which affectations of his are conscious posturing. his fitted jacket and trousers, matching the uniforms worn by air brigades in a past war. his careful collection of tools he keeps in his beloved kineema. his vast knowledge and care for the car itself. looked at in a certain different light- you know the one- you could see these traits being the result of a very careful construction. he found pieces of overt masculinity and decided to subsume them as a defense. a bolstering, a reinforcement of chosen masculinity.

there are so many different flavors of masculinity that the game offers you to experience and explore yourself. you decide whether to value them. you can follow in mister phenology’s footsteps and try to build yourself into a supremacist ideal. maybe that will make you happy. you can also chase after a barely-coded homosexual man, who makes you stutter in most available dialogue options. even if that may make you happy, you don’t get to pursue it. you can think for 20 hours about the "homosexual underground", but you can't join it yourself. you can however join fascism. interesting how harry is more susceptible to fascism than homosexuality. interesting to prod and poke at his masculine limits.

“what kind of cop are you” is a loaded question. harry is rebuilding himself from the ground up as a man. and how funny is it to learn that is inextricable from his profession.

what do you find inextricable from your gender? what of those traits make you happy? what of those traits make you want to throw your fucking shoe through a god damn window and punch the bathroom mirror and scream and scream and scream and scream?

i want to emerge from a hotel room, at my lowest point, and have the power to rebuild myself from scratch. i want a cool man who i maybe want to kiss guide me with a gentle yet firm hand. i want to have large arms, and a proud beer gut, and a stupid beard, and i want to destroy a hotel room and drink myself into a beautifully tragic state. i want to have non-political body hair. i want to get stared at for my gaudy tie and green snakeskin shoes instead of my tits. i want become a different kind of animal.

#this is very long and rambly and filled with half-finished thoughts #i will maybe one day come back to it and finish those thoughts #but i just wanted to put this out there. slide into my inbox if you also have transmasc feelings about disco elysium. i want to hear you #disco elysium #transmasc #transmasculinity #transgender

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germiyahu · 1 month

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If someone derails your conversation about Israel to be about Israel's treatment of this or that group, Mizrachim, Beta Israel, etc. you may just want to consider their motivations, and do a little digging into the kinds of subjects they normally talk about on their own blogs.

If someone who has staunchly antizionist views, like I'm talking thinly veiled genocidal fantasies about destroying Israel and reveling in the chaos that would bring, and having no concern for the future of 7 millions Jews, their concerns about Medinat Yisrael's treatment of minority groups are not valid.

This is Concern Trolling.

If someone is derailing you to accuse Israel, through accusing you, of sterilizing Ethiopian women, stealing Mizrachi babies and having them raised by "white" parents, trying to destroy Yiddish, all these alleged violent assimilationist policies that Israel employs against fellow Jews?

A non Jew barging into your space and bringing up intra-community issues and grievances is a red flag. Do not fall for the sealioning trap. Do not turn out your pockets. Do not fall for the concern trolling.

Because what is their solution to these problems? To eliminate Israel as a state? And what about these minority groups within Israeli society then? Their answer is the same as their answer for the Ashkenazim: who cares? They largely imagine all Israeli Jews can simply move to the United States or France or something. The fact that over 95% of Israelis cannot just go to the countries of their parents or grandparents is of no concern to them.

That's why it's concern trolling. They're trolling you by pretending to be concerned, and baiting you into discussing an intra-community issue because they think that'll be the argument that finally gets you to disavow Israel. Because now you'll have no choice but to agree Israel is irredeemably problematic, because now it affects other Jews. So they are exhibiting a kind of bitterly envious brand of antisemitism. They think that all Jews believe in Jewish supremacy. They're quite mad about it. This is an aspect of the Chosen People canard.

But the main reason concern trolling is bad is because they don't care about these groups they bring up. They're not defending them, they're not championing their rights. They're trying to distract you and make you look like a hypocrite. When they cheer for Hamas raping and pillaging and spraying bullets into Israelis, they don't care if it happens to Beta Israel women who've supposedly been mass sterilized against their will. They cheer all the same. So much for their legitimate concerns that Israel is antisemitic in of itself I guess?

If the solution to a problem faced by a minority group within a country is "destroy their country which they also believe has saved them from ethnic cleansing and mass death, and figure out the rest later," you're not an ally to that group; stop pretending you are!

This is tied into pinkwashing, but from a sort of opposite approach. If any societal progress that Israel makes for minority groups is a psyop and a marketing ploy to cover up Palestinian Genocide, the concern trolling is antizionists holding Israel hostage to any societal progress it has not made. But they never intend on letting Israel improve these relationships. Israel is too nice to gay Jews, and not nice enough to African Jews. The only course of action therefore, is to let Hamas butcher them alongside straight Jews and "European" Jews.

So if you see someone trying to engage in this game, ignore them! Your time is worth so much more, and the vulnerable minority groups of Jews (both in Israel and the Diaspora) are much safer with Jews who discriminate against them than goyim who tout social justice rhetoric but want to see them dead. Plus, so many Jews are already doing the work, learning and listening, and trying to improve. This enrages the concern trolls like nothing else.

Call out Israel's bigotries, but you know, maybe don't trust the people who aren't affected by those bigotries invading your space and demanding your allyship to groups of people they'd be content seeing die en masse. Like "Israel is actually antisemitic against this vulnerable group of Jews!" and "All Israelis are settlers, none are truly civilians, and any form of violence against settlers is justified" are two stances that do not mesh very well...

Because at the very least, they're separating good Jews from bad Jews again, just based on what they perceive intra-Jewish oppression to be like. And they expect these good Jews to cheer and happily live as dhimmis in the absolute chaos that is a 100% inevitable Hamas-Fatah civil war and total societal collapse... and spit on the graves of their kinsmen.

And at worst, the concern trolls won't bother distinguishing these vulnerable Jews from their alleged oppressors anyway, and happily watch as they all flee with the clothes on their backs or get gunned down or enslaved by Hamas "Resistance" Fighters.

#like an oppressed person will always prefer a familiar master to a foreign liberator #I'm always so surprised how non intuitive this is for so many people #antisemitism #leftist antisemitism #intra community issues #intra Jewish issues #ironic that I'm commenting on them at my early stage lol #israel #concern trolling #pinkwashing

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raining-dreams · 7 months

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Best Underrated Shows

Saving Me

Saving Me is about a lonely old guy who invents a time machine so he can go back to his child self and fix all his past mistakes. I learned about this show from this video titled Watch THIS instead of Hailey's On It by M!n!mal M!ss Art. Despite this video, I was still very excited to watch Hailey's On It. It seemed like a story with a cool premise and cute art style (and ultimately I do really like the show) But Hailey's On It wasn't gonna be out for weeks when I came across this video and this video really sold me on giving Saving Me a try. I never would have even heard of this show without that youtube video which would have been a real shame because Saving Me is fantastic! I hope this show reaches more people and I'm dying for a season 3!!!!!

House of Anubis

Mystery is my favorite genre and House of Anubis is chuck full of it. I used to be obsessed with this show back in high school. I had so much fun coming up with theories and live-blogging my thoughts and opinions about each new episode. Some of the acting & dialogue could be a little cringe sometimes but the story is just so good that it doesn't matter. I've heard that Het Huis Anubis (the Dutch version of the show that House of Anubis is based on) is even better, though I haven't gotten around to watching it yet.

Over the Garden Wall

Those of us who have seen Over the Garden Wall seem to agree that this show is amazing! Which makes it feel a little weird to call it underrated. But it seems like so few people have actually seen it. Maybe because it was a mini series, it couldn't reach the same level of popularity as other shows of similar quality. If you like Gravity Falls, you'll likely enjoy Over the Garden Wall as well. (Wirt is even voiced by the same guy who voiced Dipper!) I would highly recommend anyone that hasn't seen it already.

Dead End: Paranormal Park

I feel like it's pretty rare for animated series to exist in the horror genre for some reason. It truly is an untapped market. But if you love horror and animation, Dead End is the show for you! (Of course it's kid friendly horror since the target audience is children) The two main characters, Barney and Norma get jobs at a haunted park and work together to fight ghosts and demons. Dead End has a super cute animation style, in my opinion, and a very diverse set of characters. I encourage everyone to watch it!

Just Add Magic

Just Add Magic is based on a children's book by the same name. It's a show about three girls who love to cook and basically discover that they can use cooking to do magic. It's a pretty interesting take on how magic works in their universe. It's very fun to watch. All of the actors are also so talented! And one of those actors is Zach Callison (the voice of Steven Universe)!

The friendship between the trio is awe-inspiring! They have so much chemistry. It's a pretty fun watch.

The Last Kids On Earth

Based on a comic of the same name, this show is about a group of kids who have to survive on their own when a zombie apocalypse breaks out. And other various creatures start to threaten them (or even become their allies) It's basically a cute found family story. The premise is pretty simplistic but that's what I love about it. The animation style of The Last Kids On Earth is so beautiful as well!

I'm still waiting for a season 3!!!!!

Code Lyoko

I remember as a kid being aware of this show and thinking it looked kind of interesting (and I always loved the theme song!!) but I never ended up watching it back then because I let peer pressure get the better of me. I remember I met someone who brought up how much they loved the show. When I heard them express that interest, I was at first excited to ask them more but before I had the chance, everyone else started making fun of him for liking Code Lyoko.

I guess it was like the nerd show or something? I don't really know why it was considered cringe to like Code Lyoko but upon seeing my peers act this way, I decided I can't like Code Lyoko if I want to fit in. So, I avoided watching it. But earlier this year, when I was flipping through channels, they were showing old episodes of Code Lyoko! I was intrigued since I remembered it from childhood and thought I'd actually give it a chance this time. And it's actually a pretty good show! It can be slow at times but overall I enjoy it.

If you're like me and avoided watching this back then due to peer pressure, I highly recommend leaving that in the past and just letting yourself enjoy this show!!

Slugterra

Slugterra is honestly pretty similar to Pokemon, except it's slugs! And the entire series takes place underground. Basically, there's a whole underground world called Slugterra, home to slugs, trolls, moles, etc. And all the slugs have cool powers so the people collect & befriend slugs so they can use them as weapons ("slugslinging"). If you like Pokemon, you're sure to like Slugterra!

Detentionaire

I discovered Detentionaire randomly while I was searching through Amazon's library of cartoons. I was looking for a new show to watch and just stumbled upon this one. It looked pretty interesting and I was surprised to see it was a show from 2011. I don't know how I missed this show back then. Idk if maybe it only aired in Canada or something? (cuz it's a Canadian show) But anyways, Detentionaire is such an intriguing show where the main character, Lee, discovers some grand conspiracy and has to try to expose it to prove his innocence so he can get out of detention. It's such an interesting concept. And, as I mentioned earlier, mystery is my favor genre, so I had a lot of fun with this one.

The only problem though is, of course, it ends on a cliffhanger. The show got canceled before they had the chance to conclude the story in a satisfying way (or any type of way) so watch at your own risk.

Catscratch

I honestly don't even remember what this show was about but I do remember enjoying this show and being excited when I saw a new episode was out. I remember thinking it was so funny. I just don't think enough people know about this show.

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summerlinenss · 3 months

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out of curiosity, if Max doesn’t release its metrics, then what metrics are you actually using to make these statements about the show’s popularity? what does “it’s currently in the 99.7th percentile of the comedy genre, meaning it’s in higher demand than 99.7% of all comedy series in the u.s.” even mean? How are you measuring what’s “in demand” - by who? Where? It’s bold to claim that this show was wildly popular (despite the fact that I never hear about it outside of tumblr, tho that’s a personal anecdote) but cancelled just for being queer, so I would be really interested to know where you’re getting all these numbers from. Thanks!

hey anon! first of all i am so sorry for the delayed response. i started typing something up and then i got distracted with something else and totally forgot about this in my drafts.

sure, i have no problem citing sources. i probably should’ve linked some in my original post, that’s absolutely fair.

this ended up way longer than i planned so bear with me, but a quick overview of what i’ll be going over:

1) what are the stats/where did they come from?

2) how is the show so popular?

3) was it really cancelled for being queer?

(also just a disclaimer that this will contain spoilers for the show)

1) first, the numbers

you’re right that hbo doesn’t release metrics to the public. in fact, ceo casey bloys tried to justify the cancellation to the hollywood reporter by saying “the numbers weren’t there,” despite refusing to say what exactly those numbers were or where they came from.

however, there are websites dedicated to researching/analyzing the data of different media. one of those is parrot analytics, who focus on industry insights like audience demand, competitive analysis, and content valuations. they’re trusted as a reliable source by forbes, the new york times, reuters, the wall street journal, and more.

this is what we can learn from them about our flag means death from a basic google search (note that all of this data is relevant to the last 30 days as of january 26 2024):

audience demand for our flag means death is now 33.6x greater than the average tv series in the united states. as explained in the “about demand distribution” section, this means it’s one of only 0.2% of all u.s. shows to fall in the “exceptional” performance range compared to the “average” demand benchmark of 64.1%.

the change in demand for ofmd in the u.s. has increased by 7.5% compared to the average tv series.

ofmd now actually ranks at the 99.8th percentile in the comedy genre in the u.s. i’m not a math person, but in basic terms, this is like a scale of measuring and comparing performances to create an average score. essentially, ofmd is performing at the very top of all comedy series in the u.s.

ofmd has 100% home market travelability. as it says above, the market of origin is always 100%, so in fairness i included the graph of international markets for comparison. some of these aren't super high, however (as explained by parrot analytics themselves) one of the key issues with the international market is accessibility to content, which has been an ongoing struggle for international fans. many people (i guess fittingly) have resorted to pirating ofmd because they don’t have access to max or affiliate streaming services in their country.

there are more stats i could have and wanted to go more in-depth into but it would make this even longer than it already is, so i’ll just leave some links you can check out if you’re interested and move on:

• comparison of ofmd's success to shows like ted lasso, euphoria, and peacemaker

• ofmd's placement as #1 most in-demand breakout series in the u.s. for 8 weeks

• ofmd's impressive 94% critics score and 95% audience score on rotten tomatoes

• how ofmd evolved from sleeper hit to a flagship series at max

• a list of ofmd's past and present award nominations/wins

• praise and recognition from news/entertainment sites: the atlantic (2022); the new york times (2023); tv guide (2023); vulture (2023); forbes (2023); the los angeles times (2022); vanity fair (2023)

2) so why haven’t you (or others) really heard of the show outside of tumblr despite all this success? likely because max did a terrible job marketing it.

ofmd first aired on hbo max (pre-merger before it was “max”) in march 2022. the entire season aired over one month, every thursday at 12am pst. season 2 followed a similar release schedule in october 2023.

season 1’s marketing was almost non-existent, pretty much relying on taika waititi’s name being attached. there was one teaser and one full-length trailer, as well as a few clips on youtube of taika and rhys darby answering pirate-themed trivia, all painting the show as a “silly pirate workplace/buddy comedy.” but hbo max didn’t put any real effort in because they didn’t care. david zaslav and the other higher-ups had no faith in the show and expected it to fail.

most people weren’t aware it was actually a romance due to the poor marketing, and although there were many romantically charged scenes between them, many were still wary to believe it wasn’t queerbaiting until ed & stede confessed their feelings and kissed.

showrunner david jenkins has said in interviews that he had no idea how deeply queerbaiting had hurt audiences and impacted their ability to trust what’s on screen without feeling like they’re being ridiculed, despite the fact that he was calling it a love story the whole time. it wasn’t until people realized they weren’t being queerbaited and that it was a funny, sincere show with a compelling plot that word-of-mouth began to spread. by the time the season 1 finale aired, there was a decent-sized fandom that continued to grow as it received more praise.

it was a fight to even get the show renewed for season 2, and david jenkins and the cast have majorly credited that renewal to the unexpected and massive fan response to the show, which basically forced hbo’s hand.

max didn’t bother trying to properly promote the series until season 2, when they begrudgingly accepted that it was one of their most profitable and successful shows. ofmd had huge billboards in times square, downtown los angeles, and on the side of hbo headquarters. they started accurately marketing the show as not just a workplace comedy at sea, but a heartfelt romcom. max began selling long-demanded merch (which became best sellers) and spent money on an FYC campaign.

i will emphasize, whether they liked it or not, they knew ofmd was their new moneymaker (especially with the recent end of succession, which was obviously a cash cow for hbo).

photo credit: @/bookishtheo

3) now if it was that successful, was it really cancelled just for being queer?

i mean, i can’t say that definitively. no one can. there are several potential factors at play that we may never know, and there have been a lot of rumours and speculation (many of which i don’t feel comfortable discussing in case they aren’t true) since the cancellation.

but do i believe the fact that it’s a queer romcom was one of those factors, especially since max has a history of cancelling and scrapping its most diverse projects? absolutely.

first and foremost, i can’t stress enough that this isn’t just a show with a few characters thrown in for token representation. ofmd is built on a diverse, intersectional cast and narratives, including:

• lgbtq+ representation: 5 main couples are explicitly queer (including mlm, wlw, nblm, and nblw relationships). multiple characters are implied to be poly, and there’s a polycule forming in season 2 that was hinted to be developed more in season 3. beyond relationships, it’s confirmed that (similarly to the way wwdits depicts all vampires as being pansexual) all of the pirates are somewhere on the queer spectrum.

• bipoc representation: the majority of the main cast are people of colour. this includes david fane, joel fry, leslie jones, samson kayo, vico ortiz, anapela polataivao, madeleine sami, samba schutte, ruibo qian, and taika waititi, as well as many guest actors (like rachel house, simone kessell, and maaka pohatu) and extras.

• disability representation: multiple characters have physical disabilities, most notably amputated/prosthetic limbs and visual impairment. a lot (actually most) of the characters also deal with mental health issues, particularly coping with severe trauma and suicidal ideation/behaviour.

• the show has been praised for addressing difficult and serious themes like toxic masculinity, colonialism, and self-discovery, all while still managing to be a witty comedy and not come across as “preachy.”

• the diversity also extends off-screen, with a team of directors, writers, and additional crew comprised of numerous bipoc, women, queer people, and trans/non-binary people.

my point isn’t just the quantity of representation, but the quality. they take great care and respect into every marginalized group depicted on-screen. the actors would often be consulted about their characters’ costumes, hair, tattoos, and the kind of language they use. it’s not a world where discrimination magically doesn’t exist, they just have zero tolerance for it. if a character does something homophobic or racist, you can guarantee they’ll quickly (and often violently) be punished.

so okay, sure, it’s got great representation. what does that have to do max cancelling it?

because they’ve been interfering with production from the start.

i already mentioned the marketing issues so i won’t get into that. it was also revealed in interviews with david jenkins after season 2 that hbo cut their budget by 40%, which is why they had to do everything they could to save money. this included letting go of some of the original cast (and even still having episodes where some of them don’t appear at all) and moving the entire production to AoNZ. the budget cuts also meant two less episodes, so they had to rush to fit an entire season’s worth of plot into eight half-hour long episodes.

but one of the biggest frustrations is hbo’s (alleged) censorship of the show. samba schutte revealed that the entire plot of episode 2x06 was completely different in the original script. before it was rewritten as “calypso’s birthday,” the episode took place during lucius & pete’s wedding and focused on the crew getting sick of the sexual tension between ed & stede and trying to get them to hook up (this aligned with lucius & pete getting engaged and ed & stede deciding to take things slow in the previous episode).

vico ortiz and writer jes tom have also commented that many scenes between jim, oluwande, and archie establishing them as a polycule were cut, including one of the three of them emerging from a bedroom in their underwear. jes has mentioned other elements of season 2 that had to be cut out or rewritten, like the implication of other poly dynamics between the crew and more sexually explicit scenarios and jokes.

considering that ofmd is an extremely sex-positive show that isn’t afraid to be raunchy or taboo, it’s clear that either higher-ups at hbo forced them to cut these things out or they had no choice but to cut them out due to tight budget/time restraints.

in addition to this, a recent article citing an “anonymous insider” has alleged that hbo was uncomfortable with and was unsure how to market the “shock violence” in the show (the same network that aired game of thrones), which david jenkins outright called out as being bullshit. ofmd is rated TV-MA and the posters and trailers all show the audience that it contains violent content. there is literally nothing more graphic in ofmd than any other pirate show — it’s probably a lot tamer than most of them, actually.

violence on the show is most frequently used in a comedic context, in the sense that it’s not meant to be seen as scary or taken seriously. the few instances of serious graphic imagery on the show are meant to invoke a mood shift, like ed’s transformation into the kraken or ned low’s murder. it should also be noted that some of the most graphic deaths are reserved for bigots, like ed snapping the neck of a colonizer who was ridiculing stede’s love letter.

it’s also most often used in a sexual context — not sexual violence, but violence as a sexual metaphor. more specifically the act of stabbing as a metaphor for penetration, as seen with both ed & stede and anne & mary. bearing all this in mind, it seems like the real issue here isn’t executives struggling to market explicit violence to a mainstream audience, but rather explicit gay content.

as much as we joke and affectionately call it the “gay pirate show,” ofmd has always been nothing more than an opportunity for rainbow capitalism for hbo (e.g. the fact that they waited three months to announce season 2 just so they could do it on the first day of pride month). like other cancelled queer media, ofmd was a way for hbo executives to show how “inclusive” and “accepting” they are when it was convenient (aka profitable) for them, but they never actually respected the show or us as a community.

it’s impossible to be certain of what the exact reasoning for cancellation was, especially when they won’t give us a clear answer themselves. and maybe it had nothing to do with ofmd being a queer romcom at all. maybe that’s all a horrible coincidence. but for hbo/max to axe a critically acclaimed and beautifully inclusive show that’s successful by every metric, with an extremely devoted fanbase, especially after casey bloys just had the nerve to ask “gay twitter” to hype up the gilded age? it doesn’t exactly put them in the best light regardless.

in summary, i’ll leave you with this editorial, which details how the campaign to save ofmd isn’t just about one show, but a fight to save the future of all queer art.

#asks #anon #ofmd #our flag means death #save ofmd #renew as a crew #fuck david zaslav #queer media

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meraki-yao · 7 months

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RWRB Movie Cut Scene: The Extended Polo Scene

Alright I went from obsessively wondering about one deleted scene to obsessively wondering about another deleted scene. Namely. this time, the extended Polo scene.

To start with I do really like what we got! It was really fun and quick and horny and it worked really, really well, both in atmosphere and pacing.

I remember in an interview (forgot which one) Matthew said the polo scene was originally six minutes then with the new editing idea which is what we ended up getting, it was cut down to like two and half minutes, which means we have three and half minutes worth of a deleted scene

I'm guessing what happened was the actual polo match -> conversation and introduction to Bea -> hooking up in the tack room, with that being said:

Alex was practically drooling over watching Henry riding on horseback playing polo (the asshole (jk I love you) even posted a photo of Henry on horseback from the match on his IG close friends stories) how did they go from wanting to make out and eat each other to having a conversation in public (as seen from the montage during the speech)

What the hell were the two of them talking about????

I want the scene with Pez I wanna know what they talked about and I wanna see more friendship. Oh and is this when Pez figures it out? Since in the scene where Zahra finds them Henry says Percy knows

I also really want the scene with Bea. They're obviously close that's explicitly stated in the movie, plus Henry posted a photo of them two from that day on his IG (yes I know it's marketing but right now I'm treating them as real sue me) and I recently learned that Nick and Eliie have been friends for a couple of years by now? I really, really, want more sibling scenes. (especially as someone who relates to Henry and has a sister that I'm very close to) Also Alex and Bea like each other so I really want to know how their proper introduction and this conversation went. On top of that, Henry told Bea about Alex but Alex didn't know that until Zahra busted them and asked, did he tell her here? After all, Bea knew definitively that Henry's gay, and she pulled Nora aside during the wedding, is she wing-womaning? I WANT TO KNOW

In the book it was just Henry and Alex so it was relatively easy to get away and sneak into the tack room. In the movie apparently, they met face-to-face in public and Alex had a whole introduction to the two closest people to Henry. However the fuck did they go from that to hooking up in the tack room without suspicion?

As awesome, hilarious (I can never hear a bagpipe the same way again) and fitting as the quick cut, it was flashes between the match and the hook up. What was the original edit of the tack room supposed to be???? What does the full hook-up footage look like???? Was it longer??? Was there dialogue??? I WANT TO KNOW

I swear if Prime doesn't release the deleted scenes I'm gonna over-analyse everything in every deleted scene and drive myself to insanity in the best way possible.

SO PRIME PLEASE FUCKING RELEASE ALL OF THEM

(probably not all at once because the promise of something new being released in the future is like, my one motivation to fucking live right now I have fucking problems, but like, PLEASE PROMISE YOU'LL RELEASE THEM PRIME)

#rwrb #red white and royal blue #rwrb movie #firstprince #alex claremont diaz #henry fox mountchristen windsor #henry hanover stuart fox #nicholas galitzine #taylor zakhar perez #rwrb thoughts #rwrb bts #rwrb deleted scenes #AHHHHHHHHHHH #COME ON COME ON COME ON #I NEED ALL OF THE DELETED SCENES #my rwrb list #rwrb rambles

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things-about-cars-in-posts · 15 days

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what do you like about cars?

I think you knew, upon asking this, that I could only ever have answered with either an ironic one-liner or a dozen-part novel. And unfortunately, this is already the second line, so novel it is. So then, without any further ado than the literal half year that’s gone by since this was asked, let's go.

1. Engineering matters

At the end of last year (aka when I started writing this, yikes) my dear old iPhone 6S moved on to a new home because it simply wasn't keeping up with me anymore. (And again, I was using an iPhone 6S in 2023. If I say a phone is too slow, it's too slow.) I had plenty of criteria for the replacement: a smallish screen not overboard on resolution, ideally a physical media control button and/or vibration toggle, repairability, a FUCKING AUX JACK... Something like the Sony Xperia 10, whose only real issue is marketing so trash you've only just now learned Sony never stopped making phones.

And yet...

This fancy wallpapers-sporting foldable is a Motorola RAZR 5G, a phone whose too-big screen already broke (though at the edge due to adhesive issues) and those who dared try warn repairing it will be as hard as phone repairs get. Why the fuck did I buy this? Well, because it has something more important than the aux jack, proper sizing, and good cameras: it made me go “That’s so cool!”, and when’s the last time a phone made you say that? It's the cusp of a new technology, and whether it becomes the future of phones, a future of phones, or just a weird footnote, it is an island of interesting in a sea of boring. And sadly, even this island is rapidly sinking. The drive for new form factors has already boiled down to the same two phones and their evolution is sinking into the usual millimetric proportion tweaking, camera rearranging, touchscreen expanding, case material switching, fingerprint sensor moving, and spec improvements not even manufacturers can come up with use cases for. I mean, seriously, how does the iPhone 15 differ from a software-updated iPhone X (which is apparently not pronounced "x", so I guess the iPhone Twitter)? Nothing is new. Nothing is tackled differently. The user experience does not differ. And why should it, when iPhone users will get a new one out of habit anyway and many are so tech illiterate moving a button could hospitalize them? Five generation newer and 150% faster are numbers you basically have to trust, because they don't make a difference that matters.

But in cars? 150% faster will matter alright. Even just looking at it. Cars are a visceral experience to even witness, let alone ride in or drive, and the frantic engineering pursuits for performance and overall capability actually have impactful real world implications beyond "some pockets will bulge 1mm less". And their engineering involves so many fields that there’s always a breakthrough going on somewhere - which leads to another reason their engineering is so interesting: there’s simply so much of it that anyone interested in engineering will find something for them, no matter their level or sector of expertise! Interested in mechanics? Well, obviously you’ll have a field day! Aerodynamics? Don't even get me started! Electronics? You're getting more goods by the year! It spread from engine management to safety assists to infotainment to ergonomic adjustments to even suspension and aerodynamics! Sound design? Even just working on the way engines sound is a profession of its own, let alone making these barrels of metal and glass propelling themselves at triple digit speeds through hundreds of explosions a second things you can comfortably have a conversation in - and that's not even mentioning horns and chimes! Hi-Fi? We’ve spent most of a century trying to get concert hall sound from a tiny tin can where everyone sits off-center and everything bumps and shakes around and you have maybe room for two components* a third the normal size and speakers can only be in a handful of places you wouldn’t want them which may well be the next room over**!

And this is just engineering.

*Like everything in the car world, there are exceptions to that

**For those unfamiliar, subwoofers, the speakers dedicated to, indeed, sub-bass, due to their frequent humongousness are often installed in the trunk.

#stay tuned for part 2!#sony phones *are* great btw #they are sold in actual colors and they're full of cool features #their aux jack can double as a stereo input!!!

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misc-obeyme · 9 months

Text

His Hidden Heart

Well I sat down to write the next daily chat scene and ended up with this instead. I'll probably do another daily chat scene in the next couple of days. I was thinking of doing Diavolo next?

Anyway, I'm just thinking about Barbatos all day every day, that's all. One of the things that's interesting to me about him is that he's always got this calmness. Like he sometimes expresses emotions, but it's usually pretty mild. So this is about him getting comfortable enough to open up more. Also, I've always loved the way he likes to take care of people, but I often think about what it would take for him to let someone else take care of him for once.

And I don't know what exactly this is, but I wanted to try a different format. I think I'm gonna put it in the ficlets section of the masterlist but it's kind of its own thing.

GN!MC x Barbatos

Warnings: mostly fluff but a little angst and some crying

For so long, all you saw was the serene expression - the gentle smile, the occasional frown, the rare undercurrent of anger. But it was always tempered, always restrained. And you really thought it had more to do with how old and powerful Barbatos was than anything else. He had been through and seen so much, certainly there wasn't anything that truly made him feel strongly anymore.

And yet, as you got to know him, you started seeing little glimpses of more. Bit by bit, you saw more pieces of him and it made you realize that it wasn't that Barbatos didn't feel strongly. It was only that he didn't express those feelings freely.

You couldn't begin to guess why he was like this. Was it just that he wanted to maintain a stoic butler persona? Was it the result of having lived for so long that emotions seemed to have dulled, no longer warranting full expression? Was there some unresolved trauma of the past (present? future?) that caused him to keep everything under wraps?

You might never learn the truth. Maybe one day, if you felt like you could ask, he would tell you. But even if he never did, you were okay with that. Because your presence slowly but surely drew him out from behind that protective mask he always wore.

The two of you were alone in the garden having tea, fully engaged in conversation. He wasn't animated exactly, but he was talking openly in a way he normally doesn't. You don't even remember what you said, but you will never forget the way he suddenly laughed. It wasn't the usual amused chuckle. He put down his teacup, threw his head back, and laughed. He looked so absolutely delighted that you couldn't help laughing, too. At some point, he covered his face with a gloved hand, embarrassed at the way he couldn't seem to hold in his mirth. It took several minutes for the two of you to catch your breath. Barbatos had to actually wipe away tears from the corners of his eyes.

You had gone to the market together to do some shopping and while Barbatos had been absorbed in the different types of tea that were for sale, you wandered off. You were looking at various things and got a little distracted, going much farther away than you realized. When you looked around, you weren't exactly sure where you were or how to get back to where you needed to be. And then you heard Barbatos calling your name, an edge to his voice that almost sounded frantic. You followed the sound until you found him again. The moment he saw you, his face flooded with relief. He surprised you by putting his arms around you and holding you close for a moment. Long enough for you to hear the rapid beating of his heart.

You were a little confused about how frequently you were getting messages from Barbatos over one particular weekend. You had been spending your time at the House of Lamentation like you normally did, getting into various trouble with the brothers while you were off from school. But it seemed like every hour you got a new message from Barbatos on your D.D.D. They were mostly about nothing. Some questions about your day, a reminder about upcoming school projects, asking for your advice about a type of human world cake he was planning on making. You remembered that Diavolo was somewhere else on business that weekend and that Barbatos was likely alone in the castle (not counting the little Ds). Was he reaching out to you so often because he was lonely? You decided to just stop by for a surprise visit. The smile that greeted you when he opened the door indicated you had been right.

Everybody knew that you weren't currently in a relationship with anyone. There were a lot of rumors at RAD about who you might be secretly dating, but none of it was actually true. And those close to you knew this was the case. They also knew who you seemed to be slowly falling for, but nobody said anything about it. You weren't in denial, but you were certain it was unrequited. There was no doubt that Barbatos cared about you, but you didn't think it was in any capacity other than as a friend. It was just the two of you sitting together on a bench on the RAD grounds and you found yourself feeling a little bold. Not enough to tell him directly, so you only said that you thought you were in love. You watched his face carefully as you said it and so you caught the look of utter heartbreak that passed across it. It was an expression full of anguish that surprised you so much you gasped. But it was gone in seconds, replaced by the usual placid smile which disarmed you enough that you allowed him to change the subject.

Diavolo invited you over to the castle to have dinner with him. You found yourself at the dining table with him, a plethora of food spread out before you. He told you that Barbatos had made everything, but that he couldn't join you as he had his own business to attend to. You wondered what that meant, but didn't question it. You enjoyed dinner with Diavolo, chatting and laughing, generally having a good time. On your way home, you spotted Barbatos on his way back to the castle. He didn't know you were there, didn't know you could see him. He stopped briefly, clearly deep in thought. The expression on his face could only be described as lost or hopeless. Or both. You wanted to run to him, to embrace him, to kiss away the frown. But he didn't know you were there and soon enough he went inside the castle.

A normal day. A quiet day. Nothing to distract you, nothing to cause you concern. Everything was peaceful for once. All it took was a single moment. You had expected something grand, a final declaration, a sort of culmination of everything you had been feeling for so long. Instead, it was an unexpected reaction. When all you did was reach for him in a moment of need to find him waiting. And while you had seen Barbatos express plenty of emotions by this point, you were still completely blown away by the love you saw there in his eyes. When he finally let you see it, you wondered how you could ever think your own feelings weren't returned.

It was no secret that Barbatos did not like rats. You had seen him go to extreme lengths to eliminate them from anywhere he thought they may have taken up residence. And while he was certainly aggrieved whenever one showed up, you didn't fully understand what he was feeling until much later. When he seemed to be comfortable enough to let you see all of his emotional range, the reality of his reaction to rats became clear. He was afraid of them. You watched the terror that flashed across his face when one was near. You stepped in every time. You convinced him to let you take care of it. You were just as capable of dealing with rats as he was. As long as you were around, you would make sure you never saw that terrified look again.

You knew that Barbatos was having a rough week. Things had been going wrong left and right. He'd had to spend a lot of time cleaning up messes and setting things to rights on top of all the things he normally did. You could see it in his face as he got slightly more tired every day until by the end, you knew he really needed some rest. So that weekend, you took yourself over to the Demon Lord's Castle to surprise him with a homemade breakfast. You got there ridiculously early in order to have it done by the time he woke up. You brought a tray full of pancakes and tea to his room where you found him just as he sat up and rubbed the sleep from his eyes. He stared at you in surprise as you explained what you had done, setting the tray down on the bedside table for him. He looked at you for a moment and then his eyes filled with tears. You were next to him in a heartbeat, putting your arms around him. He collapsed into you, crying softly. You couldn't believe it. You had never once seen him cry. But your kindness after the stress of his week allowed him to finally let go. He was safe to break down in your arms.

Such moments with Barbatos had seemed few and far between in the beginning. It took some time for him to trust you, to reveal to you his hidden heart. You had always felt as though he had to take care of you and all your emotions. But now you were able to take care of him as well, to be that safety, that shelter. And while your favorite thing was to see him laugh, genuinely and brightly, you would always be there to hold him when he needed to cry, too.

masterlist | Thank you for reading!

#obey me #obey me shall we date #obey me nightbringer #obey me fanfiction #obey me fanfic #obey me fluff #obey me barbatos #obey me barbatos x reader #obey me barbatos x mc #obey me barbatos x you #barbatos x reader #barbatos x mc #barbatos x you #misc writes

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