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#some of you have good opinions. others...well.
hotvintagepoll · 15 hours
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Do you have any opinions on modern (post-1970s) movies that you feel capture the essence (in a good way) of Old Movies?
No, unfortunately. That doesn't mean I don't like modern movies or that modern movies aren't good, but modern movies—and here I'm really using modern to mean post-2010, so contemporary movies—have different standards for pacing, characterization, budget, and production that make it harder (or impossible) to capture some of the magic of old movies. Even when modern movies clearly try to emulate that old-movie feeling—I'm thinking of La La Land, The Artist, The Shape of Water, In the Heights—they play the homage too broadly, or they ignore crucial components that make the original films work.
There's kind of too much to go into here without writing a full essay, but essentially, the Old Hollywood system—ugly, failed beast as she was—made some movies simply more accessible to make, due to the ongoing storage of props, sets, master craftsmen, crew, and onscreen talent that could move from one movie to the next without pause. If you needed a dancer, he was already on staff. If you needed a fancy bed, it was already in the warehouse. That kind of longterm storage is invaluable if you want to crank out movies quickly and cheaply because it saves so much time on individual negotiation and sourcing. Modern production companies have to work out individual contracts for every actor on every film; crew members have to negotiate rental contracts and source pieces from scratch; if you need someone with specialist skills, you have to contract them specially at a high rate, which a lot of small companies can't (or won't) budget to do. There's sand in the wheels where there needn't be any. It's wasteful, and costly, but that's the system modern movies are made with.
Which all means that even if the modern movie system wanted to make a classic movie musical just like the old ones, they couldn't, because the talent isn't already there—it hasn't been trained up enough, and there's not that breadth of knowledge you can only get from people who have been allowed to work in the same department in the same place for decades. Movies like La La Land fail, for me, because they present themselves as descendants of Fred Astaire or Busby Berkley movies, while missing the bit where Fred Astaire was a master of his craft. When you watch Fred Astaire dance—or Moira Shearer, or the Nicholas Brothers, or Ann Miller—you are watching a true artist at work, purposely showcased by the studios because they already have them on contract. Modern movies, on the other hand, tend to take people who already have star talent (as actors) and try to convert them into dancers/singers—or they pull dancers/singers off of Broadway, but then they don't have the star power built in. You end up with lackluster musicals where no one truly knows what they're doing, or they do but they're not built up enough by the studios to sell. And that's me discussing just on-screen talent for musicals—there is a huge loss behind the scenes, as well, for all kinds of movies, where roles that would have been filled by union crew who moved continuously from one job to the next have been swapped for freelance labor who live with immense turnover, financial insecurity, and knowledge loss. You could hand me the budget and I could try to make an old movie, but the industry itself has changed so much it's impossible to recapture that charm of steady, niche talent, the amazing possibilities of bonkers set design, and the ability to take a risk on a smaller movie because the other films being produced by the same studio can help balance the budget.
I've talked way, way too much about all of this! Sorry, I just have a lot of thoughts—and the one above is just one of them; the talent loss and storage issues are only facets of a much bigger problem that extends to how we watch movies today, how we market them, what we expect of them, and what's allowed in them. It's a crying shame because the talent is still there, but times change and so does the industry, for better or for worse. (And, just again to clarify, I don't think modern movies are bad—they're just missing a lot of the juice old movies got to play with, even if there's more talent available than ever before.)
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suzukiblu · 3 days
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WIP excerpt for tabetharasa behind the cut; alpha Jazz, a dark alley, and a very pretty omega. ( + non-chrono link for mobile users )
Jazz has no idea why Red Hood thinks he smells anything but delicious, but there’s a very reckless and dubiously-ethical part of her that would be willing to prove it to him. Not that she would, obviously, because that would be, again, incredibly unethical and highly inappropriate and also a total dick move. 
She just could, that’s all. Just if it came up or whatever. 
“Well, it’s not,” she says, mildly put out by whatever’s going on here, and Red Hood growls. His scent blockers continue to be useless. Just–absolutely useless, yes. 
Ancients, he smells so good. What is she even supposed to do about how good this omega smells? 
Maybe offer to walk him home, or at least offer him her jacket so he has enough alpha scent on him that no one bothers him on his way back to his den. Although he’s a crime lord–or a vigilante? one or the other, whatever–who’s built like a truck, so that probably isn’t really a concern, she supposes. 
Then again, some people seriously do have no sense of decorum. 
Or survival instincts. 
“Shut the fuck up!” Red Hood snaps. Jazz frowns. That seems like a disproportionate amount of anger in his tone. Maybe he's sensitive about his pheromones. Well, if people have been telling him he smells like death . . . 
Though “death” doesn't necessarily smell bad, in Jazz's opinion. 
Admittedly, that's a liminal's opinion and besides the point anyway. But still. 
“Alright,” she says. “But can you get to your den safely? Or . . . somewhere you can den down, anyway, I don't know. I assume you have a headquarters or a safehouse or two, something like that. Or at least can afford a heat hotel or know a decent clinic.” 
Red Hood hisses at her. It crackles through his modulator, but the sound of it still makes her jeans a little . . . uncomfortable, she'll just say. Sue her, she likes omegas with a bite to them. Johnny 13 definitely didn't win her over by being the sweet and polite type; he won her over by being a blunt asshole in a leather jacket who'd convinced her that he was a sincere and straight-up person. 
She wonders how “sincere” the average Gotham crime boss really is, but it’s a little difficult to concentrate on that question with the scent of old books and burning cedar filling up her nose. And also that note of lilac. That note of lilac is a problem. 
A serious problem. 
“I realize heat drop is probably imminent and you must be uncomfortable, but it’s a valid concern on my part, given your condition,” she says, which normally she’d make sound politely disapproving but really can’t make sound any kind of disapproving right now. Again: the lilac. “So can you?” 
“Fuck makes you think I'd let you anywhere near my den?” Red Hood snarls. Jazz blinks; tilts her head. 
“Nothing,” she says. “What makes you think I was asking to go anywhere near it?” 
Red Hood–stalls, briefly. Jazz tries to be polite about how incredibly obvious a tell that statement was. 
Flattering, but incredibly obvious. 
“I mean, I'd be happy to escort you if you’d like,” she says. “Or lend you my scent, if you need it. But I'm not trying to presume anything.” 
“Fuck off,” Red Hood snarls. “Nobody escorts an omega like me.” 
“Do you think maybe you have some self-esteem issues?” Jazz asks. Heat is almost definitely making him a bit more volatile and emotional than normal, considering the kinds of things he’s been saying to her, but it still seems like a valid question. Being on their cycle doesn’t make people different people; just makes it a bit harder for them to censor and control themselves. 
Or a lot harder, sometimes. 
Judging by how strong Red Hood’s pheromones smell right now . . . 
Well, he might be having a harder time than he’s used to having, so far as “controlling himself” goes. 
Jazz certainly is, all inappropriate knotheaded puns aside. 
Do Poison Ivy’s pollens make cycles hit harder, actually? Or does the suddenness of the effect disorient or throw people off, maybe? 
Well, that’s a worrying thought, since Red Hood seems to be out here alone. 
“‘Self-esteem issues’?” Red Hood repeats incredulously, his pheromones briefly sparking with bewilderment. Jazz decides not to press it, since he might be feeling a little vulnerable right now. 
“Yes,” she says. “Is there someone you can call, if you don’t want an escort or to borrow my scent? I could wait with you until they show. No offense, just Park Row’s not a very nice neighborhood.” 
Red Hood laughs. 
“No fucking shit!” he says, spreading his arms. “It’s Crime Alley!” 
“I know, sorry, I just keep accidentally calling it ‘Park Row’ in my head. Still new in town,” Jazz apologizes. She assumes a crime lord would prefer his territory be correctly referred to, anyway. Seems like a thing. She knows standard humans don’t actually have haunts–even most liminal ones don’t, including her–but sometimes she does . . . well, not forget, exactly, but just . . . expect them to anyway, she supposes? 
She spent way too long in Amity, yes. 
Even without Crime Alley being Red Hood’s actual haunt, though, it’s still disrespectful to call it the wrong name. It’s still his territory either way, and she imagines someone on their cycle especially wouldn’t appreciate the mistake. 
“What is your damage?” Red Hood snarls, his voice modulator crackling threateningly as he visibly bristles, and Jazz catches notes of that electric and unexpected edge in his pheromones again. Still vaguely familiar, but still not quite what it seems like it should be. Just . . . 
Really, if she didn’t know better . . . well, she’d think he was liminal. But that seems like a very unlikely coincidence for her first week in Gotham, so . . . 
Then again, her life is her life. 
It’s not really the time to be asking Red Hood about his levels of ecto exposure, though, and she’s pretty sure they’ve both got more important priorities right now. 
“We don’t really have time to unpack all that, to be honest. You really do need to get home,” she says. “Or at least call someone to pick you up. If you go into heat drop alone in Crime Alley, I can’t imagine it’s going to end well.” 
Red Hood hisses. That might’ve sounded like a threat, Jazz realizes belatedly. 
“I didn’t mean it like that,” she says, apologetic again. “But it’s not safe, is it?” 
“If anyone I don’t want near my ass tries to touch me, I’ll put a bullet up theirs,” Red Hood growls, low and crackling. 
“That seems like a lot of trouble when you’re on your cycle, though,” Jazz says. He’d have a body to deal with, and maybe someone would call the cops–well, she supposes it is Crime Alley, so maybe not . . .? But it’d be self-defense anyway, and if he is a crime lord, maybe he has people for that. 
Hm. 
She really needs to get familiar with this area as soon as possible, yeah. And just Gotham in general, really. Every city has its own idiosyncrasies, but Gotham is its idiosyncrasies. 
Well, so is Amity Park, of course. 
“I think you belong in Arkham, lady,” Red Hood says. Jazz feels like a Gothamite should be more understanding of someone taking supervillain attack side effects and hostile heated-up crime lords in stride, but apparently not. 
“Technically, you’re not wrong,” she says with a wry smile. She’d offer him a handshake, but that’s not really appropriate for an alpha to offer to an omega in heat. Especially not an unmated alpha, which Jazz very definitely is. “I start Monday. Jazz Fenton, psychiatric intern. At your service.”
Red Hood manages to very clearly stare at her without actually taking off the helmet. It's actually an impressive amount of expressiveness to get across, under the circumstances. 
Or there could be a touch of liminal empathy happening, admittedly. That's possible too. Especially with another liminal involved. 
Jazz briefly considers what knotting a liminal omega might actually be like if an empathy loop got established somewhere in the process, which is a lie, because what she’s actually imagining is picking up this liminal omega and showing him exactly how delicious she thinks he smells. 
Definitely inappropriate. 
“They will literally eat you alive,” Red Hood says. 
“I mean, there’s a risk of it,” Jazz allows, because nothing is a perfect guarantee. It’s just not a very large risk. Comparatively, she means. 
“You applied to Arkham on purpose, lady?” Red Hood says disbelievingly. 
“Oh, no,” Jazz says, shaking her head. “They made me an offer. Somebody read my thesis and liked it, apparently.” 
Well . . . “thought we should interview you for either a position or to have your file established for whenever the convictions start rolling in”, whichever. The interviewing psychiatrists had a range of reactions during her interview, she supposes is the best way to put it. 
Jazz really doesn’t think it’s fair to classify her parents as actual supervillains, but an increasingly long list of professionals has, admittedly, not agreed with that assessment. 
She can’t imagine what they would’ve thought if she’d told them about Danny, considering. 
Well, it’s not her problem if someone else is going to be close-minded about things like that. 
“I’m sorry, I’m really not trying to be pushy here, but are you sure you don’t want to call anyone? Or want my scent. Or . . . literally anything,” she says, gesturing a little awkwardly with her shopping bags. “I do get told my pheromones are pretty discouraging to unwanted attention, if that helps?” 
“Sure they are,” Red Hood snorts. Jazz tries not to look disapproving, given his compromised state. That kind of thing can bother omegas in heat, she knows. 
“That’s what people tell me,” is all she says. Obviously it’s not just the default parts of her scent that make it a strong deterrent, but as for the force of the emotions and claim she can put into it . . . 
Well. She just hears it’s “discouraging” to other alphas pretty regularly, that’s all. And also some betas, depending on their sexuality. And, um . . . well, a little closer to “catnip”, for omegas, but . . . 
“I’ll believe it when I smell it, knothead,” Red Hood snorts again. “Prove it.” 
Jazz isn’t sure that’s a good idea, considering–again–his compromised state, but, well . . . he’s clearly a strong omega himself, and maybe she’s a little miffed by him just assuming she’s lying about something like that, that’s all. She knows plenty of alphas do lie about their pheromones or even lay on fake ones, but . . . well, it’s hard not to wonder if he just thinks she’s a lesser alpha because she’s female, or because of how she’s dressed or looks or speaks, or just because. 
Her inner alpha doesn’t love the experience of one of the most gorgeous-smelling omegas she’s ever scented sneering at her worth as an alpha without even giving her a shot to prove it, either way. 
“Are you sure?” she asks.
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craisinsensation1029 · 15 hours
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Snuggle Bug
Toji Fushiguro
AO3 :)
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just toji being soft and domestic, thats it ⸜(。˃ ᵕ ˂ )⸝♡
~2k
SFW but minors still shoo
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It isn't hard to make assumptions about Toji with just one look.
With his imposing frame riddled with pounds of muscles, enough scars to rival any war hero, and an expression that screams I don’t tolerate nonsense, ever on his face, most people steer clear of him. 
There isn’t much merit in thinking so, but so many easily peg him as a douche, an asshole, a womanizer—someone that probably has the worst opinion on anything ever. 
While Toji has definitely judged more than one book by their cover, only sparing something a glance for no longer than a second before deciding whether or not it would be worth his time, he’s more than happy he was a book you were willing to read.
He still remembers having to build up the courage to ask you out on a date.
Every week he would treat Megumi to a few new books, and low and behold on a calm Sunday afternoon the sweet old manager was showing you the ropes on the cash register. 
He was enchanted by your smile, the natural grace that you had, the zest for life that you conveyed just through your love of reading. At first it was innocent, Toji being just as excited as Megumi for the weekly trip to the bookstore, flying to the children’s section to see if you had any exciting news on any new releases. There was even the time where you decided to do an impromptu story time just for Megumi because it was a slow day.
After that, Toji had to admit that he did get a bit more greedy, making more frequent trips to the bookstore and flashing you a crooked smile when you would look for the bite sized version of him. “Just me,” he’d laugh, hoping that crimson wasn’t painting his cheeks.
When people say expect the unexpected you always thought it was referring to something completely drastic, like seeing actual pigs fly or winning the lottery. Not seeing this big, burly man scratching the back of his neck and blushing while he waited for you to say something, but you couldn’t complain. You simply smiled at him and said, “Well you can read at a higher level than Megumi, right? Let me show you some other books.”
As the weeks went by, Toji was spending more time (and money—but you did give him your employee discount out of the kindness of your shining heart) at the bookstore, whether or not he had Megumi with him. 
“I put something else in the bag.” A cheeky smile that he couldn’t quite decipher was on your face as you pushed his purchase toward him.
He thanked you and was fighting every single urge not to pounce on the bag the moment he stepped out the door. The bit of self control he was able to maintain allowed him to wait until he got to the car, seeing a slip with your number scrawled on it right on top of the books he just bought.
He never felt nervous about making a phone call before that night, but every bit of tension eased from his body when your bright cadence filled his ears over the speaker.
Soon the two of you were texting good morning and good night here and there, the occasional how is your day going. It was far from that though. After a few weeks you were moving on to talking about new shipments of books, mentions of family, future plans. It became routine for both of you to talk on the phone nightly. Even if it was a day that he visited the bookstore, the true cherry on top of the cake was drifting off to sleep with the sound of your voice in his ears.
It only seemed natural for him to ask you out and make you his.
Being with Toji provides you with comfort and security not even money can buy. No one dares to cat call you with Toji by your side.
There’s something just so entertaining about seeing one of the people you adore the most making others cower in fear with just a simple glance, like having a big, vicious dog that growls at everyone in public but snuggles up to you in private.
And when it comes to snuggling, Toji is well versed in that department.
See, he doesn’t really believe in personal space; he can never be too close to you. 
If you’re washing dishes in the kitchen, his arms are wrapping around your waist, bending his head so it's resting in the crook of neck, sighing contentedly as he breathes in your scent.
Sitting on the couch? He’s scooching as close as possible next to you, entwining his fingers with yours, not even looking at whatever is on the television. He damn near crawled in your lap a few times, arguing that it was much more comfortable for him despite your legs screaming in protest.
He doesn’t even care if you’re in the shower, sitting on the toilet seat and waiting until you finish. His go to is usually getting in the shower with you, withstanding the boiling hot water you somehow consider an appropriate temperature. He had to build up his tolerance, feeling like his skin was going to melt off his body if he stayed there longer than five minutes. This would only make you laugh and say, “Toji, stop torturing yourself. I’ll be out soon.” He’d just grunt and give you that pouty face that makes you dab a kiss to his nose.
If you’re taking a bath, he used to drag a chair out from the dining room, but ended up buying a cozy bean bag just to make himself more comfortable and accompany you.
Much like a big dog though, Toji’s spatial awareness seems to be a bit... Lacking.
He doesn’t mean it, you know he doesn’t, but there are times when you swear he is trying to decimate you with the weight of his body.
Especially nights like tonight when he’s coming home late from work. 
Megumi already ate the dinner you made and has been fully entertained by a movie you watched together. Once you made sure he was snuggled in bed with his two favorite stuffed animals, the only thing left to do is wait for Toji to get home.
His job can be pretty unpredictable, leaving him coming home at late hours when the only thing he wants to do is be by your side, feeling the softness and the heat of your body while he closes his eyes and melds into you. 
His stomach is rumbling, screaming for sustenance. When he walks through the door he knows there’s going to be a plate of food already made for him, just waiting to be heated up, but eating is far from being the first thing on his mind. 
Instead he cracks open Megumi’s door first, a small smile forming on his face when he sees his little form tucked in, arms wrapped around those stuffed dogs while his chest gently rises and falls. He closes the door behind him, making the few steps to the bedroom that he shares with you.
It was obvious you tried your best to stay up and wait for him, indicative by the bedside lamp still being on and the book laying facedown on your lap. Though your thrown back head, the bit of drool leaking from the side of your mouth, and soft snores coming from your body shows your efforts were unfortunately in vain.
This just adds to the smile on his face, silently slinking back out of the room so he can eat and take a shower. You’re still blissfully asleep once he emerges from his shower. He carefully opens the dresser, opting for just a pair of boxer briefs.
He turns off the bedside light and carefully secures the place in your book with the bookmark you left next to you on the bed. 
Despite his attempts at being gentle, the bed always creaks beneath his weight when he gets on it. The sound isn’t quite enough to wake you, only stirring a bit in your sleep.
With himself securely in the bed he moves in closer calling your name gently. Still, you only stir, murmuring out something unintelligible while your head turns to the side slightly.
He takes the opportunity to lay his head on your chest, listening to the soft beating of your heart while his fingers are drumming lightly against your stomach. The feeling always makes him melt, indulging in every pliant dip and curve of your body, the velvety texture of your skin such a contrast to the calluses and roughness of his own. 
It isn’t long before his hands are exploring, moving down to caress the swell of your hips and making their way back up to feel the dip in your waist. All the while his head stays on your chest, as if his skull is a sword that will do anything imaginable to defend your heart.
He stays like this for a while, the thumping of your heart serving as his own personal white noise, the sensation of your skin beneath his touch alleviating all the stress of work.
“Mmm,” you groan, slowly opening your eyes only to be greeted by darkness and consumed by heat. “Toji.”
At the sound of your voice he slowly opens his eyes, immediately pulling you closer to him and panting a slew of kisses on your cheek. “You were sleeping when I got in,” he murmurs against your cheek, plopping another kiss there. “Didn’t want to wake you up.”
You’re not sure what time you fell asleep, but tap the screen on your phone, squinting at the harshness of its brightness. It’s a bit past four in the morning now, rain beating down gently against the windows.
“Like you’ve cared about waking me up before,” you laugh gently, playfully rolling over to escape both his hold and the slobbery kisses he insists on planting on you.
“Come here.” A fit of giggles leaves your lips as you continue rolling over, just out of reach every time he tries to wrap his arm around you again. He lets you have it for a few more moments, letting you tire yourself until you’re completely breathless with laughter. Like a tiger waiting to strike he ambushes you, caging your body between his arms and letting his weight settle on top of you.
“Toji!” You try your best to contain your squeal knowing Megumi is sleeping just beyond the thin walls.
“What?” His voice is muffled as his head takes refuge in the crook of your neck, his lips pressing softly against the sensitive skin there. He feels your pulse quicken every time his lips brush against your skin. “I missed you.” 
No matter how many jokes you make about canceling his gym membership or making sure he never has another protein shake again you wouldn’t trade the feeling of this for anything. One hand rubs small circles into his back while the other snakes around to the nape of his neck. He nuzzles further into your neck, humming with satisfaction when your fingers thread through hair and delicately massage his scalp.
“I missed you, too.” He doesn’t say anything, but you feel the curve of his lips against your neck as his arms maneuver beneath you, cradling your body tight.  
The warmth of his embrace quickly lulls you back into a state of unconsciousness, only willing for the serenity to end when you wake up, ready to appreciate him with bright eyes, marking another day together.
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dyaz-stories · 2 days
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don't get cut on my edges || gojo satoru x reader
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synopsis: Gojo is easily bored, you're the latest enigma that's caught his interest. He sets off in trying to figure you out. Lucky for him, you're coming on the week-end trip Shoko's planned for the week-end.
“Was I off script?”
You look up at him.
“You’re always off script.”
word count: 5.4k
genre: college!AU, fluff, slice of life
cw: unresolved sexual and romantic tension, reader has anxiety and is socially awkward, she/her is used for the reader, a little suggestive, overall very sweet and fluffy
a/n: this was fun to write! any feedback is appreciated, and i hope you enjoy my writing here :)
soundtrack
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Gojo knows that people talk, knows that they talk shit, knows that there isn’t a soul on campus that doesn’t have an opinion on him. He can tell that eyes follow him around when he walks into a room, that his presence is enough to shift the atmosphere at a gathering, that some people roll their eyes at him while others try their best to catch his attention. It’s a lot to take in, for just one person.
Fortunately, he’s proved to be incredibly gifted in the art of not giving a fuck.
Then again, he’s incredibly gifted in most areas of life. Truth be told, he thinks people aren’t giving him enough credit for that. Sure, they tend to know that he’s a physics major, but that’s just tangential to what they know about the rest of him. He’s not just kinda good at physics, not some dude that goes to college mostly for the parties and then get a meaningless job at daddy’s company, no, he’s the fucking best, and he works fucking hard to be able to claim that title.
But that doesn’t really fit in with the rest of him, and at the end of the day, who cares? He certainly doesn’t.
With all that, it’s not statistically unlikely for him to catch people talking about him.
Well, he’d have to conduct a detailed study to calculate the exact odds, but with how much alcohol is in his blood at this very moment, it makes sense to him that it would happen.
Still, for people to be talking about him at a party he is at, in front of an open window, you’d think they would have some sense of shame. Not that he has any room to talk, because shame is not part of his vocabulary, but like. Come on.
“Gojo really can’t take not being in the spotlight for more than ten seconds, huh?”
That voice, he’s quick to identify, even if he can’t see her face from where’s he’s standing under the porch, belongs to Mei Mei. Aw. Bummer. They’d spent quite a lot of time around each other, have friends in common, slept— Wait, have they slept together? He can’t say for sure anymore. It seems to have slipped from his mind. Oops. Maybe that’s why he’s getting that treatment. Maybe he deserves it.
There’s a scoff, and really, the acoustic of this place are impressive. It feels like he’s straight in the room with those people.
“What else do you expect from someone who’s always had everything served to him on a silver platter?”
And that would be Noritoshi Kamo. Man. That was one of the few kids in the families his parents insisted on frequenting. They used to be sat next to each other at the kiddie table while the adults talked about the important stuff. They never had much in common — not then, not now. And, after all, maybe Noritoshi has a point, after all. His mother wasn’t a mistress, wasn’t turned into an outcast, and he’s never had to pretend he didn’t hear the loud whispers that tarnished her name. Yeah. Sounds like these two aren’t saying anything new after all. Not that he’s gonna change, y’know, but he already knows who he is, and he is all that.
“That seems like a very mean thing to say about a friend,” a quiet voice comments.
The world freezes.
A silhouette appears to go along with the voice, then a blurry face, then the picture becomes clearer. A figure sitting next to Shoko, giving him sweet, polite smiles when he approaches. Not chatty, kinda shy, pretty cute. Would get quiet when he was near, though, so he hadn’t paid a ton of attention. He’s used to giving it to people who asked for it, who wanted it.
You’d never asked.
But you’re… not wrong. He’s not sure why he hadn’t picked up on it himself. It is a mean thing to say.
“Don’t get me wrong,” Mei Mei protests, “I love Gojo, but you know I’m right about this.”
“Yeah, and I’ve known him my whole life,” Kamo adds. “It’s just a fact, we’re not talking shit.”
There’s a silence. Gojo’s invested now.
“I don’t know him that well,” you say. “Like I said. It’s just a mean thing to say about someone you hang out with every day.”
“Come on, don’t act like—”
“I think I’m going to go, actually,” you say. “This feels super shitty.”
“What the fuck was that?” Mei Mei laughs, just a second later — presumably after you’ve left the room.
“She wants to fuck him, I guess,” Kamo says.
Well, you’re making one hell of a headway then, because he’d do you so hard after that.
When he walks back in, you’re chatting with Shoko. You give him your usual, close-lipped smile, don’t quite make eye-contact. If you’re trying to get in his pants, you have a very original way of getting it done.
“Who was your friend again?” he asks Shoko, later that night. She answers without looking up from her phone.
“She doesn’t talk much when there are new people around,” she warns him. “Leave her alone.”
“When have I ever bothered anyone—”
She reaches to smack the back of his head, misses and gets the nape of his neck — that’s the downside about being so tall, there’s just a lot of him to hit.
“Don’t make her uncomfortable. That’s all I’m asking.”
He wasn’t planning on that. He’s just— curious. Intrigued.
It’s unlikely to last, though. He’s been known to get bored easily.
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You’re already in the car when he gets in. Well, okay, when he gets shoved inside by Todo, despite his protests that his legs are too long for the backseat. You’ve squeezed yourself in the middle seat, with Shoko on one side, and him on the other now. There’s a bag of snacks in your lap, yet you still try to shift yourself to give him a little more room. It doesn’t help at all, but in your defense, the only thing that could help would be to buy a new car.
“Is everyone ready?” Suguru asks as he adjusts the rearview mirror.
“Sure,” Shoko says.
“Let’s go!” Todo shouts.
“No,” Gojo whines.
“Yeah,” you say, completely drowned out under the rest.
“Good,” Suguru hums as he starts the engine.
Gojo pouts, but he doesn’t insist. Well, he doesn’t make any more of a scene than he already has. Truth be told, he could have taken Todo — dude might be all brute force, but Gojo has brains and brawns, thank you very much.
But he’s curious, still, and he hasn’t been given enough information to quite satiate his curiosity. Everything he’s gathered about you says that you mind your business and keep to your corner.
So why did you say that to Mei Mei and Kamo? It makes no sense, but Gojo’s never met an equation he couldn’t solve.
That’s an overstatement. Obviously there are equations he can’t solve. Yet. He’s sure he’d figure it out eventually. Like he’ll figure you out. See? That metaphor does make sense.
Suguru’s music is playing in the car. The sun is still low in the sky, the day is quickly getting warmer, and the phone says that they’ll be at the beach in two hours.
Satoru closes his eyes. Fun fact about him? He can fall asleep anywhere he wants to.
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He wakes up with his face smooshed against the window, a hand tapping his shoulder carefully.
“We’re here,” you say, giving him a smile and then shuffling to leave the car from the other side.
Todo’s already running towards the beach, while Suguru and Shoko are getting the bags out of the trunk. Somehow, Shoko manages to sling a bag over his shoulder, but he takes off before she can stuff the cool box containing all the drinks in his arms.
He then lies to Todo to get him back to the car, so that he can carry the damn thing. Shoko better thank him later for that.
He catches up with you, and he sees your eyes widen a little when he approaches, as you visibly search for something to say. He can’t resist the temptation to shoot you a grin. There’s a light breeze in the air, but he won’t be fooled that easily — with his skin, he’s going to need an insane amount of sunscreen, if he wants to survive the day. Which makes him think, actually—
“Wanna help me apply sunscreen?” he asks.
“Huh?” you say.
He leans towards you, looks into your eyes from over his sunglasses. You appear to be fully frozen in place, only swallowing once as he gets closer. His grin gets wider as he takes in all of you, and he’s once more fascinated by the idea that you had been able to say something to Mei Mei and Kamo but you can barely face him.
His gaze drops to your parted lips.
Then the bottle of sunscreen smashes against his cheek with impressive precision.
“Todo can help you put that on!” Shoko offers as Suguru starts setting up a parasol. “Right, Todo?”
“Of course I will, my brother,” Todo say as he appears, but by then, Satoru has already started running for his life.
“Just kick him in the balls if he pulls something like that again,” Shoko says.
“Oh, no, it’s fine,” you reply, shaking your head in mild horror. “I just— I don’t— know— how to react sometimes. But he doesn’t bother me.”
That statement has her raising an eyebrow at you, filled with doubt, but she doesn’t insist.
“Play nice,” she does warn Satoru once more, later on. “Don’t push it too much.”
“Aw, Shoko, are you saying you wouldn’t approve of me?”
“Do whatever you want to,” she replies, rolling her eyes, “but give her more space. She’s not used to you being… you.”
Satoru rests his chin on his knee. He’s taking refuge under the parasol for now, and you’re already in the waves with Todo and Suguru. You seem comfortable with Todo, laughing at something he said, less so with Suguru. It all looks like a lot of work, all to satiate his curiosity. He’s all about committing to the bit but— he doesn’t know about that one.
This, too, all this thinking and questioning, is a lot of work, though, so he ends up shrugging it off.
“Are we getting in or what?”
“Absolutely not. No— Gojo— Don’t you fucking dare— Gojo!”
Shoko’s full-on shrieking by the time he throws her in the water. You burst out laughing. She comes out screaming for revenge, and Gojo starts scampering around to try and avoid her.
The sun is high in the sky, there’s a light breeze.
The time is good.
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“Satoru!” Suguru calls when the watch on his wrist starts beeping, “it’s been two hours!”
It takes a second for the information to reach his brain, but the second he understands it, Gojo’s sprinting back towards the parasol at full speed. You look up, surprised, from the towel on which you’re lying with a book. Shoko doesn’t even bother with lifting an eyelid to see what’s going on.
“You okay?” you ask.
Ah, so she does speak.
“Yeah,” Gojo says, ruffling through a bag. “Just need to reapply some sunscreen. I’m not trying to look like a lobster.”
“Oh,” you say, “so, did you want me to help you with that?”
His fingers finally close around the bottle, and he stills to look at you. Shit. He’s curious again. Shoko’s words are swirling around in his mind, though, and he has no interest in forcing your hand.
“You didn’t look like you wanted to do that,” he says with uncharacteristic caution.
You roll your lips together, glance away from him, and your hand curls into a fist in the sand.
“No, it’s just— Um, I’m sorry about earlier. You— caught me off guard, I guess. I couldn’t figure out what to answer.”
“I usually just go with whatever appears through my head first,” he shrugs as he comes to crouch in front of you — you in the sun, him in the shade.
You laugh softly, but you avert your eyes, focusing on the sand as you trace patterns in it.
“Yeah, I think that’s the preferred method, but it— doesn’t— really work for me. So I have— I have a script, kind of, for interactions.”
“And I was off script?”
You glance back up at him.
“You’re always off script.”
For a moment, he just looks into your eyes, and you look back without any of that earlier nervousness. Then you shrink back into yourself, and the smile that so rarely leaves your lips reappears, like a shield that comes back up.
“Sorry. I know— I know how silly this sounds. I also wish I didn’t feel the need to do that, I just, um—”
“All good,” he replies with a shrug. “Sure. Help me with that.”
He throws you the bottle and you miss it, and he can feel you eyerolling at his back without needing to turn around, but when he shoots you a grin from over his shoulder, he can see how your breath catches in your throat.
Softly, your hand goes over his back, your touch gentle and cautious. It feels quite nice, actually, especially when your nails brush over his skin.
“It’s not too cold?” you ask.
“All good,” he repeats.
Shit. He’s invested again.
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“Okay, we have the tickets, we have the water bottles, we have the hats, we have flat shoes, we have Gojo, we have the car keys—”
“I’m sorry, why was I just in the middle of a list of belongings?”
“We have cellphones and portable batteries… I think we’re good,” Shoko concludes, fully ignoring him.
“You don’t think we’re just a touch overprepared?” Suguru asks.
“You can never overprepare, my brother,” Todo says, grabbing his shoulder firmly. “If you want to triumph in the face of adversity, you need to know everything about the enemy.”
Suguru opens his mouth, closes it again. He knows how to pick his battles.
Gojo doesn’t.
“We’re going to a festival, not trying to breech the Pentagon,” he deadpans, and then, from the corner of his eye, he tries to see if you’re laughing. He delights in how you lower your head and try to keep it discreet.
“You never know what—”
“If I have to hear a second more of this nonsense, I swear to God I’ll kill someone here,” Shoko announces cheerfully. “Let’s move.”
Finally, after a good fifteen minutes by the door of the Airbnb you’ve all spent the night in, you start moving.
The good news is that you don’t have to get in the car, in the smothering heat, to get on the overcrowded streets packed full with the cars of the other attendees. The bad news is that you have to walk there, in the smothering heat, near the streets packed full with the cars of the other attendees. Suguru’s in charge of the map, which everyone seems happy with. Gojo had offered to do it, too, and there’s not a shred of doubt that he’d be able to read it competently, but Shoko had insisted the risk of him taking everyone to the wrong place ‘just because it would be funny’ was too high.
She’d been right but like, that was still rude.
The march in the heat and the waiting in line, while painful and unpleasant, as Gojo makes sure everyone around him is well aware of, go pretty smooth. Everything is planned and accounted for. There’s a game plan once they make it into the festival, too, because of course there is, but that’s when things start going south. First, Todo tries to go rogue when he spots someone wearing Takada merch. She’s not performing here, but he’s heard rumors that there would be a stand for her, and he lurches towards the woman. He’d get lost in the crowd immediately if not for Gojo’s lightning fast reflexes.
Unfortunately, soon enough it’s Gojo’s turn to get distracted. What can he say, there’s the smell of sugar in the air, and he needs to know where it’s coming from. Suguru’s the one to get him back on track, as they all head towards the main stage. Because that’s what Shoko’s grand plan leads to: sweet, sweet, close-up spots to watch the Sorcerers, headliners for the festival and also unarguably greatest band of all times, with minimum wait before their show.
There are a couple other close calls, but the group manages to get close enough to the stage. There are people here already, but they’re here for other artists mostly, and they’ll no doubt move quite a bit before the start of the real show. From where they are, even you and Shoko will be able to— Wait a minute.
“Huh,” Gojo say. “Hey, Shoko, do you happen to see (y/n) around?”
“If you can’t see her from up there, why would you think I— Fuck.”
“A fallen soldier,” Todo sighs somberly. “Sometimes, you have to make sacrifices for—"
“We should go get her,” Shoko interrupts him. She’s biting her lower lip, staring at her phone. She looks quite worried, Gojo notices as he stares at her.
“Why isn’t it enough to just text her?” Gojo asks. It’s not ideal, and it won’t be easy to find the group in the middle of this sea of people, but it’s not impossible.
“I just— I don’t know if she’ll want to deal with all that” she gestures at the crowd “alone. I’m afraid she’ll say she doesn’t mind and then she won’t have a good time.”
Gojo tilts his head. It wouldn’t cross his mind to say something he doesn’t mean. It’s an incredibly weird thought, actually. But Shoko’s better than him at, well, people, and she might have a point. He also doesn’t want you to have a bad time, after all. With one last glance at the stage, he nods at her.
“I’ll go get her.”
“Are you sure?” Suguru asks. “I can go, if you want me to. It’s your band.”
As if it isn’t his, too. But Gojo shrugs. His attention span is fleeting, and he’s got his sights on something else right now.
“Nah, don’t worry. I’ll make it back.”
“Thanks,” Shoko says sincerely.
He waves vaguely at her before making his way back through the crowd, earning his fair share of nasty glances. He still doesn’t care.
A few minutes later, he receives a text from Shoko with a screengrab where you say you’re getting something to eat. Sure enough, he has no trouble finding you waiting in line. You’re typing on your phone, not paying attention to your surroundings, and he’s grinning already. He lets himself half fall on you, arm wrapping around your body as he drops his chin onto your shoulder. You jump, glancing back bewildered, but you don’t stay tense long once you see it’s him.
Which makes him feel things, actually, but he’ll unpack that later.
“What are you doing here?” you ask, brow furrowing. “I thought you guys would be in front of the stage by now.”
“I came to rescue the princess, obviously,” he says, and you laugh. You laugh a lot when he talks, instead of rolling your eyes like people usually do.
Maybe you’re a bit too good of an audience.
“I don’t need rescuing, Gojo,” you answer, and it’s interesting how calm your voice is. “It’s packed too tight for me in here. I told Shoko but…” You shrug. “It’s not always easy to understand how it is. For me.”
“Yeah,” he says. “I don’t get it at all.”
Your shoulder’s pretty comfortable, though. And you haven’t tried to get him off of you yet.
“Do you want to order something, too?” you ask, pointing at the food stand. They sell waffles, and just the smell has his mouth watering. “Strawberries and whipped cream, right?”
Gojo pauses.
“How do you know that?”
“You’ve mentioned it. A few times, actually.”
He’s sure he has, but—
“You were listening to that?”
You blink at him. He realizes how close your face is, with his head on your shoulder.
“Of course I was. You were talking.”
“Shoko didn’t tell you? It’s like, rule number one of being around me, don’t listen to the stuff I say. There’s a lot of dumb shit in there.”
You tilt your head, looking kind of confused.
“I still want to hear what you’re saying.”
Something inside him feels warm all of a sudden. Very warm.
“Yeah,” he says, but his throat is tight. “Strawberries and whipped cream.”
When you step forward to they can take your order, he begrudgingly gets off your shoulder, which allows him to swipe his card before you can get to it.
“I had that,” you protest while he bites into the insane amount of whipped cream in his waffle — he asked for more until the guy behind the counter looked like he was going to murder him.
“I had it first,” he says, and then he sticks his tongue out at you. He anticipates your laugh this time, finds himself waiting on it. When it comes, it sounds just like he wanted it to.
For a while, the two of you sit on a fence. You hand him a water bottle, say that he needs to stay hydrated. With no one else around, you don’t seem to have such a hard time speaking. You’re so quiet when everyone’s there and, well, him and Todo take up a lot of space, when it comes to conversation. Neither Suguru nor Shoko struggle with making their voices heard either, and in the middle of all that, you tend to stay silent. Apparently, that doesn’t stop you from listening.
“Shouldn’t you be going back?” you ask, after a while.
Gojo tilts his head as he thinks about it.
“Nah, I’m good. Let’s find some place where you can enjoy the show.”
“You don’t have to—”
A grin, and then he’s jumping from the fence to come stand in front of you. Even like that, he doesn’t have to look up to meet your eyes.
“And how d’you plan on stopping me?”
Your eyes go wide. He can almost hear your heart racing, and he thinks he’s starting to get a little too high on that feeling. It’s just so easy, so fun, so delicious.
“Okay,” you squeak, averting your eyes and jumping down after him, clearly trying to hide your reaction. “Okay, I’m coming.”
When you start walking by his side, grabbing your hand is just too easy not to do it.
“Wouldn’t want you to run away again,” is what he says as he intertwines his fingers with yours. “Now you’re stuck with me.”
You still refuse to look at him, but there is no actual discomfort in your reaction, just what he thinks is uncertainty about how you’re supposed to behave now.
“Have I gone off script again?” he practically purrs.
You glance up, a flash of amusement on your face. Lots of fondness, too, and this time he’s the one who gets caught up in it.
“You haven’t been on script once today.”
“Good,” he says, managing to pass off the emotion that just choked him for a second there as impatience. “Someone’s got to keep you on your toes.”
“I’m always on my toes,” you mumble behind him, but you can’t explain to him what anxiety feels like, so you just let him drag you away. His fingers are long, his hand engulfs yours easily. You like the feeling of it more than you should.
Your eyes are on Gojo’s broad back as he pulls you through the crowd, which parts effortlessly for him. You’re enjoying this.
You don’t think it’s going to last.
Gojo doesn’t think about that though, just like he rarely thinks about tomorrows. What he’s thinking about, as he keeps far, far away from the stage, is how to find a place with enough air around for the two of you. It’s easy for him to get a good look at the stage, and he earns his fair share of pissed off glares — “Seriously, it should be illegal to come to an open-air stage when you’re that tall” — but it takes more work to get the perfect space for you. Finally, his eagle eyes figure out some place that’s just perfect, and he beelines for it with you in tow.
“There,” he says, pulling you in front of him and putting his head on top of yours, just to check that the line of sight is good enough.
Ha. He nailed it.
“Thanks,” you say. There’s surprise in your tone.
“Is this a good spot for you?” he checks, but really, he just wants to hear you praise him?
“It is, but— I thought you said you didn’t get it? My—” You gesture vaguely. “—struggle. With all that stuff.”
Oh right. You actually listen to what he says. He needs to keep that in mind for the future.
“Does it matter?” he asks with a shrug.
You stare. You open your mouth to speak, but no words come out, and then the crowd starts absolutely howling and you spin around to see the Sorcerersget on the stage. Whatever moment there was there, is forgotten right away. He sees you fish in your bag for your phone, then raise it over your head and tiptoe around, trying to get a good photo.
It’s cute, it’s adorable even, but it’s not very efficient.
“Do you want some help here?” he asks, leaning close to your ear so you can hear him over all the noise.
Your body shivers into him, and he files that away for later.
“Um, yeah,” you shout over the noise. “Here, could you—”
But he pays no attention to the way you offer him your cellphone, and instead he’s bending down, and ignoring your surprised protest as he pushes his head between your legs.
He bench presses a hell of a lot more than he looks like he does, for the record.
With a grunt, he manages to get you up on his shoulders, and some people behind him complain loudly, but whatever, they can wait for you to get the perfect picture. You struggle to stabilize yourself for a dangerous second, and then you stop moving around for a second. Your thighs are supple and warm under his hands and around his head.
One more thing to remember.
“I’m good, I’m good, get me down,” you say quickly, just as he’s storing the thought away.
You seem relieved when your feet get back on the ground, and Satoru lets his hands linger on your waist.
“Was it a nice pic?” he asks. He knows he’s all red in the face, but he’s grinning so wide it almost hurts, actually.
“Perfect,” you squeak. “Thank you. Again.”
Aw. He’s going to get used to that word real quick.
A familiar guitar riff comes from the stage, and you turn away from him once more, but his hands are still on your waist. He uses that to pull you against him and this time, you don’t hesitate to let yourself lean back against him as the two of you move in rhythm with the music.
The concert is a blur after that. There’s a lot of singing, a lot of screaming, basically no time to catch a breath, because the Sorcerers are fucking beasts that don’t let up, not even for a second. At some point, you tell him something, but he can’t really hear, so you crane your neck back and he lowers his head. Your lips brush against his neck, an accident really, but it sends such a jolt of electricity through him, he thinks he’ll go into full overdrive.
The only thing that stops him from chasing after your lips immediately after that is Shoko’s voice, going around in his mind. ‘Don’t push it.’ What the fuck was that supposed to mean?
You move away, and he still has no clue what you were saying. If after that, his hands hold your hips a little tighter, if he pulls you a little closer, he can’t be blamed. If, during one of the more sulfurous song of the show, as you’re swaying against him, humming along to the song, his lips find your neck, he doesn’t want to hear about it.
When he presses a kiss right by your jaw, you turn to look at him. You’re pretty. He’s always thought you were pretty.
Fuck Shoko, he thinks, and he’s ready to put his mouth on yours, to slide his tongue between your parted lips that have looked so inviting this entire week-end, when the riff of the band’s most popular song starts playing, and he loses you attention once more.
Cock-blocked by his favorite band. Fuck his life.
When the song ends, there’s movement in the crowd as the band gets off the stage and people start chanting for an encore. In Shoko’s fool proof, perfect plan, this is when you’re supposed to start leaving. Gojo doesn’t want to — how is he supposed to do anything about how much he wants his mouth on you once you’re back with the other — but this time you grab his hand and pull him away from the stage and he has even less of a clue of what he’s supposed to do about that.
You get to the meeting point before Shoko, Todo and Suguru, which makes sense, considering you were much further from the stage than them. It’s a specific pole that Shoko had pointed to as you were first getting in, and the urge to push you against it and to taste your lips is strong. Gojo isn’t typically one to ignore that kind of feeling. He just goes for it, doesn’t let his brain get in the way too much. He’s not sure what it is with you and your doe eyes and your sweet smile that makes him act different.
Whatever it is, it makes him ask “Did you have a good time?” instead of kissing you senseless behind the pole while watching to make sure Shoko doesn’t catch him in the act.
“It was amazing,” you say. “I don’t think— I don’t think I’d have gotten that close without you.”
“Did I force your hand?” he asks, frowning.
“No, no, that was great, actually.” And there it comes, his favorite words, and then he’ll kiss you. “Thank—”
“There you guys are!”
You have got to be kidding him. The Gods of timing are so set against him, he must have done something to piss them off badly in another life.
“Okay, we should start heading towards the exit,” Shoko announces.
“Nah, we ‘re staying until the end,” Gojo says, burying his hands, balled into fists, in his pockets. He’s being needlessly belligerent, but whatever, she deserves it, whether she knows it or not.
“Don’t be a dick,” she glares.
He smiles at her. And he doesn’t budge.
“We’ll run,” you say, stepping in. “I’m sure we can still beat the crowd if we run.”
She narrows her eyes at you, then at Gojo.
“You’re a bad influence, you know that?”
So many delicious thoughts coming to him, and he can’t do anything about it. Damn it all.
Of course, it ends with the five of you sprinting on the lawn and all the way back to the house. Of course, he doesn’t catch five seconds with you after that. Of course, your face is on his mind the whole night.
Of course, because it’s just his luck, isn’t it, in the morning, Shoko tells him you had to catch a flight early in the morning.
“I told you, don’t you remember? She’s going back to her family for the summer.”
Of course, he doesn’t.
Ah, whatever. It bothers him for a minute, but then the day continues unfolding, and the sun’s warm, it’s the peak of summer, and he only really knew you for a couple of days. He’ll see how he feels about it when college starts up again in the fall. He’s not known for sticking with things, anyway. He’ll probably forget; you probably won’t capture him again like you did; it was probably a fluke.
That, or these will become famous last words.
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sequel
thank you so much for reading! i had a ton of fun writing gojo's pov and i hope you enjoyed it too, even if i'm still finding his voice :) please reblog or comment if you've enjoyed this, i'd love to hear from you! getting readers' feedback on my writing is what keeps me motivated to write so if you'd like to read more from me, that's the way to do it!
tagging the people who expressed interest in this: @elidebrey @xstom @chosospookiebear @xmysticredx
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evermoredeluxe · 2 days
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a really interesting theme i find in taylor’s work is that of being a fool or fooling someone else. love is looked at from this lens of a thing that you have to tricked into. which is really juxtaposed by her belief of “it is fate.” i think it somewhat comes from how openly and hugely she loves vs her view of herself as something that brings disaster. and also some pretty formative experiences when she was a young girl going into adulthood and how she felt used and unworthy and small. hence, all the trickery to make someone love her and trying to be in control, whether she’s the one starting it or ending it.
in cowboy like me, she talks about how she’s conned all these men, and they’ve all fallen for her. she takes what she wants from then and then she bolts. then in hits different, she sings “i use to switch out these kens, i’d just ghost // rip the bandaid off and skip town like an asshole outlaw” she meets a boy, falls in love, and when they break up, she moves on quickly and goes to another one to not feel distraught, and when this new boy makes her fake promises, she does the same thing to him and moves on with someone else. she’s in control.
and then “i think there’s been a glitch,” and with joe, she thought it was gonna be something casual and they tried that but it turned out to be one of those things that supposed to last. her con finally works. after all these tries, she’s finally masterminded her forever, and she doesn’t even feel bad because he knew. but then, she realizes that she failed yet again, it didn’t work. she didn’t con her way into a sweet forever, but rather forever conned her. fate gave her something, she tried to control it, but she failed.
she tries again. she’s been talking with this boy from her past again, and she thinks that this time, bolting will work and she will find her happy ending. what she though was fate, meant to be, all the pain of her long term relationship and her leaving was supposed to meant something, but turns out that this time the script flips, and he was the conman and he was selling her a get-love-quick scheme (loml). and she doesn’t even get to bolt! he’s the one who leaves her behind (“i’ll never leave, never mind” - loml), and she can’t even complain.
all’s not well because it doesn’t end well because she didn’t end up with anybody. instead of trying herself again, she’s just begging someone to change the prophecy. and the alchemy still implies something not in her hands being a huge factor, and who are they to fight it? they have to abide by it. and ofc she equates love to religion and sees fate as a belief system. she wants it to work out, and it hits her hard whenever it doesn’t. i’ve been thinking about this since the album release and seeing some other posts, and my unpopular opinion is that i think it’s still something she believes in despite *gestures broadly* but after last year, she doesn’t wanna control it anymore. no fooling, she doesn’t wanna mastermind and do all the work, she just want it to be easy and she wants it to be simply good to her.
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wtfsteveharrington · 3 days
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take the upper hand | carmen berzatto x reader
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push the reset button we're becomin' something new
description: carmen berzatto is stubborn and anxious and doesn't always know how to express himself. your best friend drags you to a party that carmen knows you'll be at and he shows up to make amends and thank god he does because he saves you from dealing with some drunk asshole.
content warnings: angsty!! drinking/party scene, shitty drunk guy w/ a shitty guy mentality!!, reader gets hit on with one night stand suggestion tones, carmen's ready to swing, mentions of anxiety and jealousy. mentions of reader drinking. kissing, mentions of intimacy related scratches, some light smut references.
author notes: my first time posting something that isn't just smut!! also something that no one but me has read!! normally i always get a proof read, not today. but this idea has been rattling around in my ole noggin' for a minute now so here we are. reminder!! you are responsible for your own media consumption!! if this won't be your jam then there's tons of other fics in the sea (: ily thank you!
even if it's handcuffed i'm leavin' here with you
•• ━━━━━ ••●•• ━━━━━ ••
The last place you wanted to be tonight was some house party in Wicker Park. With Pitbull, of all artists, playing so loud in the basement that the floor upstairs was still vibrating. Everything was sticky and stinky and you did not wanna be here.
But your best friend was hooked on this guy from her gym. 
It didn’t help that Carmy recognized his name from high school and mumbled out some remark about, “Oh yeah, no Dave’s a pretty solid guy.” She was convinced it was a sign that they were meant to be. Not to mention she found his mom’s Facebook and a post from two years ago that included his birth time. The whole train ride over you listened to how compatible the two of them were and how much she loved that he was a Scorpio rising. 
She had begged you to come to this God forsaken party and help put in a good word for her. Something had her convinced that if you mentioned just how well you were getting to know Carmen to this Dave guy that he would hold your opinion of her in higher regards.
And sure, maybe there was a part of you that hoped Carmen would be here even while the two of you were feuding. He knew it was coming up but couldn’t promise he’d be off in time - Something you got quite used to. It normally didn’t bother you that he had so many late nights at the resturant but when it rains, it pours and now you’re stuck sitting next to the sink littered cups filled with what can only be best described as some sort of horrific finance bro jungle juice. A mix of 1942 and fresh pressed juice. 
Your nose wrinkles up at the smell but you’re quickly refocused at the booming sounds of Ethan Callaghan stumbling through the back door. Another man Carmy knew from high school but didn’t like as much. Something about always being too in-your-face. Though you were pretty sure he was close with the guy your best friend was currently hooking up with in some random bedroom down the hall. 
The second his eyes land on you there’s a lopsided smile being thrown your way as he tries to fluff his hair and stand up as straight as possible. He’s stumbling into the kitchen with a full drink in hand, droning on and on about how he was ‘just so jealous’ that your friend went into that bedroom earlier. How nice it must be to not end the night alone. No pleasantries at all, just right into the whole lonely and horny act that was grossing you out. 
No one particularly knew you and Carmy were together yet - He wasn’t the type who wanted to label right away and potentially mess things up and you weren’t the type to out your dating status to random drunken men either. Besides, you weren’t so sure that ‘I have a boyfriend’ would put an end to this pitiful man’s sob story. 
As if, on queue and manifested right out of thin air, Carmen rounds the corner and takes a second to soak in the sight in front of him. You’re sitting there with your eyes trained on the water bottle in your hands. Ethan’s yapping away about how pretty you are and how big his apartment is. An excellent view in Streeterville that you’d love to see with the best brunch place in town two blocks away blah, blah, blah. Your shoulders are hunched over, body leaning away from Ethan as he stands at the window watching his reflecting in the window above the sink. 
“Hey - Been looking for you.”
Carmen.
Your head whips around to the sight of his voice instantly. There’s a pang in your chest at the sight of him standing in front of you after you two had been apart for these last few days. He looked tired. Wearing a sweater he knows you love because he wants to look nice for you. God you wanted to run over and crash yourself against his chest. Screw the petty fight. Instead you’re stuck giving him a very pointed look, hoping he takes the hint to save you. 
He’d be lying if there wasn’t a split second where Carmen feared you were actually going to go home with this loser until he saw the panic and annoyance written across your face. Ethan’s laughing at the sight of him. “Hey, Dude. Think we’re all good here, yeah?” Oh he hates this dick. 
There’s a thick level of tension in the room as Carmen squares up his shoulders and steps further into the room. His eyes are trained on Ethan who clearly wasn’t expecting much of a fight out of Carmy. He stops when he’s standing between your knees, putting himself between the two of you. Something about the way he instantly turned possessive turned up a feeling deep in your stomach no matter how annoyed you still were. 
“Pretty sure someone out back was looking for you, Dude. It doesn’t seem like anyone in here wants you around. Now either you’re too fucking dense to realize it or you don’t care that you’re not wanted, but I’m here to let you know. So I suggest running out back and getting the fuck out of our hair.” 
Ethan’s clearly entertained while looking between the two of you, a playful glint in his eye. You’re silently begging him to walk away and find yourself bringing a hand up to put on the small of Carmen’s back. While you’ve never seen him actually fight, you’ve seen many scraps between him and Richie. Heard stories of him growing up and heard the Bachelor party story. 
You’re fine not having your own fight stories to tell. 
T-Pain is now blasting in the background and the contrast of people laughing and singing downstairs versus the situation you’ve found yourself in is making your head spin. The whole time your best friend is clueless and wrapped up in Mr. Scorpio Rising. She owes you big time. Like you’ve secured friend of the year already and she needs to throw a parade in your honor after going through this.
Ethan’s finally putting his hands up in the air, that shit eating grin still plastered across his features. “My bad, my bad. Didn’t know you were already claimed.” Claimed. Gross. Your fingers press into Carmy’s back, a silent plea to beg him not to escalate this even more. He’s laughing at the sight of the two of you before snagging a half finished bottle of vodka off the counter and backing up towards the back door. 
Carmen steps out from between your legs and follows Ethan to ensure he leaves. Shoulders pushed back, chest puffed out. You’d find the sight entertaining if you still weren’t so on edge. Carmen Berzatto, your protector. 
And sure, he’s probably just making this asshole someone else’s problem for the night but he doesn’t care. The main priority is getting you away from him and getting you safe. 
You catch the sight of his curls out of the corner of your eye when Carmen returns and instantly steel your spine. The shift in the air now that Ethan is gone was thick. He was a distraction from the distance between you two but now you’re preparing yourself for another argument when really you had no energy left to give it. There was a small worry that he’d think you gave Ethan any inclination that you were interested. Even though you two had been tense, there was never anyone else but you but him. Even if you’re too stubborn to drop that information just yet.
Carmen’s quiet. His heavy boots against the floor make your heart beat faster. Everyone had scattered out of the kitchen when he walked Ethan out of there but not before giving you two a nervous glance as they went. Some probably disappointed there wasn’t a fight if we’re being honest.
“Hey.” 
You don’t dignify him with a response. Crossing your arms over your chest and taking a sudden interest in the magnets that littered this guy’s fridge. Toying with the idea of putting the ‘Area 51 is for Lovers!’ magnet in your pocket. You figured you deserved something for going through this hell of a night. 
He stops himself once he’s reached your side, the silence awkward and thick in the air. Carmy’s hand is on your knee now, his touch not as firm as you’re used to. The whiplash of emotions once again not helping either of you know just quite where you stand. 
“M’still mad at you.” 
He winces but he knew it was coming. 
The two of you wallow in silence. Carmy’s just about to finally speak but someone stumbles in on the hunt for vodka, takes one look at the annoyance on your boyfriend’s face, before quickly muttering they’ll find it somewhere else. 
And you still won’t look at him. 
He’s grabbing at your waist now, pulling you from the counter and against his chest. You wanna protest but there’s still a buzz going through your body that makes it hard to think quick enough to push back. Plus God does he feel warm and smell so good.
Carmy’s walking backwards towards the fridge, waiting until his back is flush against it to slide down. Bringing down those magnets you wouldn’t stop staring at, family photos, whatever was in his way came with the two of you. He’s tugging you until you’re straddling his waist while he brings his knees up to support you. Grabbing a hold of your face, finally making you look at him and fuck he looks like shit close up. Dark circles, hair a little messier than he’d normally allow, a bit of fear deep in his eyes. 
“You gotta tell me how to fix this.” It’s all unfamiliar territory for him. There wasn’t exactly a good example set for him growing up to say the least. 
Four days ago Carmen watched as the barista at some coffee shop you wanted to go to flirted with you. That shit already annoyed him, but he tried to bite his tongue. Then your latte came out with a heart in the foam and you kept explaining that’s just how they all come out but he was jealous and possessive and didn’t know how to communicate that so instead the two of you fought in the car for an hour. It was so stupid and he’s been kicking himself in the ass ever since. 
The past four days you refused to talk to him and had done a good job at dodging the situation. Normally you two fight, you fuck, and then you pretend everything’s okay. The cycle was getting old and wearing you down.
Until now. 
You give a heavy sigh, reaching out to toy with the bottom hem of his shirt. Carmy really did look like it had been going through it so you’re throwing him a small bone. “Maybe not making me sit on a sticky floor would be a good start.” He’s muttering out this small laugh, thankful to hear anything coming out of your mouth let alone a joke, the sound vibrating against your fingertips and you hate how much it fills your heart. 
He waits for the rest. The other shoe to fall. Every ounce of laughter is gone when you finally collect yourself enough for - “Do you think we’re good together, Carmen?” You can feel him stiffen under you, his hands gripping at your waist because he needs something to give him some stability. 
A beat goes by. “I think you’re the best thing that’s ever happened to me.” Another beat, this time it’s Carmy who refuses to look at you. Eyes downcast and trained on your lap. “But I’m not sure I’m good for you.” You weren’t expecting that. 
Once again silence falls between the two of you, still toying with the hem of his shirt before you lean in to bury your face in the crook of his neck. Taking a deep breath that’s filled with his cologne, faint smoke, and just Carmen that you’ve grown to crave. “You just gotta learn to trust me, Carmen. Outta everyone in this world, I’m the main one who never wants to hurt you. Especially for some barista with a fuckin’ comb over.” 
You hoped he would laugh again, but the sound never comes. Instead you feel his arms go tight around your body, his knees coming up a bit more which makes you fully lean into his chest. He’s clinging to you, wishing so badly he knew what to say (or could let himself) say what he knows he needs to. Instead he’s just pressing a kiss ​​to your head, sighing into your hair. 
“I wanna be better for you. Just don’t know how.” 
The two of you cling to each other and fight to get as close as possible. The distance apart these past four days has left the both of you physically aching for one another. It’s been hours, days of a tense heart and checking phones for texts neither of you knew how to send. You press a kiss against his neck, leaning back just enough to grab his face in your hands and stroke your thumbs over his cheeks. 
“It’s scary for me too, y’know? This, us. You’re not alone in being scared but lashing out at me isn’t gonna solve anything. I’m not going anywhere, Carmy.” You take the first step in mending the relationship by leaning in to press a gentle kiss to his lips. There’s a hand coming up to cup the back of your neck, holding you in place as if he’s still scared you’re going to change your mind and run off before he can realize it’s happening. 
He’s letting you take the lead and only deepening the kiss once he feels your hands slide under his shirt. Fingers trailing along the toned skin while Carmey licks your bottom lip. Your hands glide around his back where you’re able to trace over healing scratches left on the skin from your last night together. 
Your lips part and you take the lead once again, letting your tongue slide along his and giving a low moan into his mouth as you taste him. There’s the lingering taste of cigarettes mixed with black coffee and Carmen. Once again indescribable and simply him. His grip on you tightens up in response and you know if you’re not careful then you’ll end up disheveled and tangled up in the backseat of his car or bent over one of the sinks in a disgusting bathroom. Both options you refuse to pick over getting home and letting him properly make this up to you. 
Dragging your nails along the healing marks, Carmen starts to lose track of his kissing. His grip on your neck tightening a bit more, hips rocking up towards you against his better judgement. The motion’s getting needy and sloppy and you have to pull away much to both of your disappointment. 
Shaking your head and bringing your hands up to rest flush against his warm chest. “You’re not gonna fuck me on this nasty floor. I deserve better than this.” Which, of course you do. He just gets carried up when he’s wrapped up in you. He’s nodding in agreement but can’t stop himself from licking his own lips to chase the sensation of you.
He’s looking over your features, his heart picking up pace even more than he thought was possible anymore. “Think you’re meant to be my forever, y’know? Sometimes I look at you and it scares the shit out of me because I look ahead and-... It’s you. Kids sitting at a table in the restaurants doing homework. A honeymoon overseas where I get to drag you around different pasty shops and restaurants and we’ll find random art in flea markets to hang when we get home. Take photos that end up framed. It’s you. Always.” 
Now how are you supposed to be mad when he’s this open and honest. Unpacking a future you had thought only you considered so far. You hope this behavior sticks. It’s not easy for either of you, but it’s worth fighting through the learning curve. “Kids, huh? Multiple? They’ll be your harshest critics, Carmy. I dunno if you can handle their reviews quite yet.” He’s chuckling, shaking his head with a lazy smile. “No, not yet. But one day.” The promise of more between you finally putting an end to this discussion for now. You make a mental note to remember this moment when the two of you bicker in the future - No matter what there’s always more on the road ahead of you. 
Which makes you smile too. Wrapping your arms around his neck. “One day.” You reward him with one more kiss, knowing that’s all the two of you can risk before you end up sprawled out on this floor. 
Carmy’s desperate to keep the lightened mood. He’s giving it a moment for both of you to calm back down from kissing before playfully scrunching up his face. “God you taste like shitty tequila.” It works. You’re laughing and swatting your hand against his chest, feeling a bit lighter than you did when you walked into this place. “Carmen Berzatto be nice to me!” 
He’s beaming at you now. Bright, happy. 
It’s a stark difference from the funk you’d both been stuck in since this fight started. The sight makes your heart swell and you bring a hand up to push some curls back off of his forehead. Leaning in to press a kiss against the tip of his nose. 
“Lemme take you home, yeah? Get you some food on the way? Gotta make sure someone so pretty doesn’t wake up with a hangover.” He loves taking care of you in anyway you'll let him.
You nod and carefully start to shuffle off of his lap. Getting yourself to your feet before reaching down to help tug Carmen up to his feet. You catch as he adjusts himself in his pants, a flush blooming along his cheeks and down his neck. Stepping back in until you’re chest to chest with him, you press a line of kisses along his jaw. Rough stubble going away once you find his lips yet again. You hum against his mouth, bringing your hand up to cup his cheek. “You gotta shave in the morning, Carmy.” He’s nodding instantly, reaching his hand down into his pocket to fish out the car keys. 
There’s a notification lighting up your phone - Perfect timing. A simple “Gonna spend the night ;)” text from your best friend. You can’t help but to grin and roll your eyes, turning the phone around so Carmen can see the notification too. He’s laughing while sliding a hand into your back pocket and starting to lead the two of you out of the kitchen. 
“Yeah, remind me to tell Dave that his friend fuckin’ sucks.” 
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squadmuse · 20 hours
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NSFW ALPHABET
THE SPENCER REID EDITION
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A - Aftercare (what they’re like after sex)
Spencer loves post-coital cuddles so much. He’ll also give you a good massage, having read on the different techniques and memorised it all so he could give you some great aftercare if sore. Spencer also loves bubble baths - fight me on this.
B - Body part (their favourite body part of theirs and their partner’s body)
Spencer isn’t the most confident about his body but he likes his hands, as he knows you do (you also love his taut ass too) and can do some wonder with those fingers especially. On you, well Spencer is tied between your breasts or your neck, the latter because he loves snuggling into the crook of it.
C - Cum (anything to do with cum basically…)
Spencer prefers cumming into a condom, unless you’re trying for a baby. He does however lose his mind when you suck him off and let him cum on your face.
D - Dirty Secret (pretty self explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs)
Spencer is the king of phone sex, even though he is a known technophobe. He loves phoning you up from whatever city or state he is in and whispering the dirtiest of words to you…
E - Experience (how experienced are they, do they know what they are doing?)
Spencer isn’t that experienced, but he’s memorised the Kama Sutra and a lot of other NSFW material that he can have you experiencing mindblowing orgasms one after another.
F - Favourite Position (again, pretty self explanatory…)
Spencer is tied between doggy-style or cowgirl. He loves having access to your breasts and ass and hips.
G - Goofy (are they more serious in the moment or are they more humorous?)
Spencer can have the goofiest moments with you during sex and he isn’t against pulling a magic trick on you either. But he has moments where he’s determined to try out a new position or toy on you and he’s focused so much.
H - Hair (how well groomed are they? Does the carpet match the drapes?)
Spencer is somewhat groomed down there.
I - Intimacy (how are they during the moment? Are they romantic?)
Spencer is very romantic and affectionate. He’s never loved someone as much as he does you, nor has he ever been loved by someone like you do him… he is devoted to you and shows it wherever he can.
J - Jack Off (masturbation…)
It happens more so when Spencer is away from you and needy, or in the shower. He doesn’t like bothering you if you’re tired or asleep.
K - Kink (what are their kink/s?)
Spencer loves leaving marks on you and sometimes leaves numerous hickies across your body as he worships you. He loves doing role play with you too, whether it’s geeky or more sexy. Spencer also enjoys phone sex, you in lingerie and edging too. He has a slight breeding kink too.
L - Location (where are their favourite places to do the do?)
Spencer, while he is an FBI agent has a bucket list of places he wants to have sex with you at. Airplane bathroom, his university office or lecture hall… he’s got to try them all.
M - Motivation (what turns them on, what gets them going?)
Spencer loves you in lingerie like so so much. He gets so hard so quickly if you tease him by showing the lace of your bra or silk thong or satin thigh-high stockings.
N - No (something they wouldn’t do, turn offs?)
Spencer will never ever degrade you or hurt you, he never wants to see you cry or sore from him in the wrong way.
O - Oral (preference in giving or receiving, skill etc)
Spencer is a fan of blowjobs, he can cum so quickly from your talented tongue. But he does love giving you orgasm after orgasm as he eats you out.
P - Pace (are they fast and rough, soft and sensual?)
A man of science, Spencer measure each other with skill and decisiveness that leaves you ruined whatever way it goes.
Q - Quickie (their opinions on quickies, how often etc.)
Oh Spencer loves a quickie! Sometimes you need him there and then or him for you, and each time he’s raring to go. Also with the unpredictable nature of his job, sometimes a quickie is all he has time for before flying off somewhere.
R - Risk (are they game to experiment? Do they take risks?)
Spencer again is a master of facts and figures, the probabilities of getting caught or not… but that doesn’t mean he isn’t against getting a little risqué with you…
S - Stamina (how many rounds can they go? How long do they last?)
Spencer puts in a lot of foreplay and can go about two rounds of sex with you. He will hold off orgasming so he can have you cumming multiple times.
T - Toys (do they own toys, do they use toys? on a partner or themselves?)
Spencer isn’t experimental on himself but he loves trying new and different toys on you. He loves handcuffs and vibrators in particular.
U - Unfair (how much they like to tease)
Spencer loves to tease you nonstop, he has memorised every single thing that gets you bothered and he can read you like a book he knows inside out.
V - Volume (how loud are they, what sounds do they make etc?)
Spencer is so vocal! Dirty talk, groans and grunts amongst whispers of appreciation and random sexual facts.
W - Wild Card (random headcanon)
Spencer is surprisingly dominant in the bedroom.
X - X-Ray (let’s see what’s going on under those clothes)
Thin, veiny and long just like his lean frame. Spencer is also circumcised too.
Y - Yearning (how high is their sex drive)
Considering his job, Spencer has a slightly above normal sex drive. He can’t get enough of you when he’s home with you, and as they say distance makes the heart grow fonder.
Z - Zzz (how quickly do they fall asleep afterwards)
Spencer usually waits to make sure you’re asleep and content before drifting off to sleep himself.
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lostinforestbound · 2 days
Text
And for my grand finale of my Rolan brainrot thoughts, the moment you probably have all been waiting for:
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Rolan NSFW Headcanons
MDNI
Disclaimer: If you think differently than what I write here that is totally okay! These are just opinions!
First and foremost, I believe he's a switch! It can also depend on his partners preference, but he doesn't mind doing one or the other. I will say that he can have trouble bottoming/submitting super early on because it can be a very vulnerable experience, and he may get overwhelmed quickly. Will he admit that? Of course not, he's too prideful and his communication skills are horrid.
There's a lot of talk about with whether Rolan is a virgin or had a couple flings in the past during his time in Elturel, and I like either one! The most important thing is that he's definitely inexperienced. He doesn't know what he likes or dislikes yet, and would like to explore that with his partner once he's comfortable.
Bite him! Mark him! Give him hickies! Gods he goes absolutely insane for them, especially when he's on the receiving end. He would prefer all of it to be under the collar, but one of his favorite places is that tender spot right between the jaw and ear. It's one of the many ways to get him mewling. He'll definitely bite back if his partner likes it.
I would say he's pretty vanilla in general, but is open to trying something new if his partner is kinkier. It's something he would have to work up to as it can be intimidating, but with enough reassurances he's willing to try anything once. Besides, if he doesn't like it, he's pretty vocal about it and they know not to try again.
He wouldn't like being heavily restrained or gagged (at least at the same time), it feels too demeaning for him. I think he would like the idea of him being blindfolded, but would request that his partner keeps a hand on him at all times so he knows that they're still there. This would be a once in a while type of deal as it can get overwhelming quickly.
Speaking of dislikes: deliberate pain is a turnoff. Anything that would intentionally hurt he's not into. So things like whipping, harsh choking, smacking around, or any kind of pain infliction, he can't do it whether it's giving or receiving. (But he would still be into marking like I said earlier!) I don't think he would outright dislike degradation but those kinds of nights are on the rare side.
Now for the likes: Praise!!! For the love of the gods, praise this man, he loves it and his cock throbs when he's receiving it. It's the best way to get him worked up as well. Ordering him around is also good, he's very obedient and an incredible listener.
The act of intimacy is private for him, so public sex is definitely a big no. He wants everything to be private and only with his partner. He doesn't want to be anxious about getting caught while in the middle of things, it ruins his mood. Besides, his partner wants to keep his whines, moans, whimpers, and begging to themselves. They're such pretty sounds.
He tends to feel guilty whenever he's not in the mood or has to stop anything they're doing, it's instinctive and frustrates him. He knows he has no reason to feel guilty, his partner reassures that all the time, but sometimes that guilt crawls into the back of his mind. His depression and panic disorder cause him to have low libido, so he's not in the mood for intimacy most days. Though he's still just as satisfied with purely focusing on his partner and not himself. (When he works on himself and finds solutions to help him with his mental health, his libido increases!)
King of Oral Sex. After learning about his partner's body and practicing for a few sessions, he's incredible at it. It ends up being one of his favorite things to do, some nights he evens pleads for it, begging to taste them.
The best way his partner will find out he's horny is the way the base of his tail arches upward. That tail has a mind of its own, and he can't quite control it. He uses his tail a lot, using to either hold their thighs apart or wrap around their torso desperately. (Or if his partner is a tiefling/dragonborn, wrap around their tail!)
His more sensitive areas besides his neck are the insides of thighs and his pelvic area. If you play with his chest enough though, that becomes sensitive as well.
He definitely starts bringing in magic bedroom as soon as he gets comfortable. Imagine what they could do with some of these spells! Mage hand (or multiple of them), disguise self, entangle, maybe fly as well...ah, telekinesis is also a good one! How about enhance ability? If either him or his partner can't use words, they'll both gently cast detect thoughts to check in.
Aftercare is extremely important to him, whether he's giving or receiving it. He and his partner switch depending on who wants to do it that night. Though being on the receiving end of it, it makes him feel so loved. It won't take long for him to start purring, falling asleep in their arms. When it's his turn, he takes his time and is incredibly tender. He'll get anything they ask for and more.
(And we're done! I hope you enjoyed!!! I had a lot of fun making these and I hope to make more in the future when I reopen requests! If you have your own headcanons, please share!)
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twst boys with a S/O that has a veg patch
characters: sebek, leona, malleus.
content warning: fluff, slight angst, established relationship, reader can be any gender, australian slang,
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Sebek
now sebek is someone that needs to be healthy due to his line of work, but that will typically come from meat as it will give him the calories he needs.
bu that doesn't mean he won't adore the food you produce.
like he would even help you in the patch as it can be a good workout depending on how big it would be.
and from experience veg patches can produce a lot of food and since he has a bottomless pit for a stomach he would eat any you don't.
when he first found out about it he thought that it couldn't be that hard to grow one, until he found out how much time you need to put into it.
sometimes he would make a shit ton of sanga's for lunch with the veg you make.
now if he found out someone destroyed it he would not be afraid to beat that mf.
because he loves you more than anything in the world. yes even malleus. so when that happens he would be pissed for you.
and if he sees you crying, whoever did it better start praying to whatever higher power they believe in whether it be a god or law enforcement that they find their body.
or they find a way to get their hearing back after he yells at them.
Malleus
now as he has a flower garden and you a veg garden you both give each other stuff from each other's garden as a way of showing love.
you and him would also spend many dates gardening with each other while talking about whatever comes to mind.
and in my opinion malleus doesn't quite like veg as he is a dragon and they eat meat, but that doesn't mean he won't eat whatever you give him.
now if you ever want to have bigger vegetables you can just ask malleus because he would either use magic if you want but if you don't want to do it that way, he would give you some knowledge on many ways to make them larger.
now if someone were dumb enough to destroy your garden he will have to be held back. and if they made you cry they no longer gonna be living as they have just made the love of his life die.
Leona
now leona hates veggies, it's a well known fact, but for you.
he still won't eat them. plain and simple.
but he will still help in the garden (somewhat)
like buying you equitment if it breaks, getting savannaclaw to help protect it from people, helping with making meals with them.
you know those thing.
now one thing he loves about this is the fact he can get cheka to help you out with it, which in turns keeps him busy and tires cheka out from annoying him.
now if someone were to destroy your garden he will hunt them down himself, and make their life a living hell.
and if that person is from savannaclaw you can bet that that person will no longer be allowed in the dorm as they will be banished.
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Hiii girl 🪻💐! First, nice to meet you xx ! I really love your vibe. Love purple pp 💜! Can I request a small os, please? I saw you wrote monegasque reader and all cute os. Can I ask you (you choose) Lando/Charles/Oscar with inked!reader (like full arms tattoos and stuff) it’s always wag so ✨perfect clean✨, I’m tired to see the clean vibe, I want to be delulu with rockie vibe, feminine tattooed wag, normal wag 😬. Topic could be : new tattoo with driver reaction or handle with people opinion. Thanks 💜🪻 if you’re not feeling to write it, it’s okay too. Have a nice day xx
Note: hiiii! Welcome to this little corner of the Internet I made along with everyone who follows this blog! Thank you - this is supposed to be as much a safe pace for you as it is for me 🫶 I hope you had a good day, too! 🫶
"Someone spotted you when you left the tattoo studio", Oscar said as he stepped inside the apartment after having spent the day in the Center, noticing you were wearing a cardigan even though it was a warm day out, "they posted a picture online".
"So it's not a surprise, is it?", you slumped your shoulders slightly, shrugging the cardigan off.
"I don't know what you got, so it's still a surprise, sweetheart", he smiled, hugging you and being mindful of the wrap around your arm.
Oscar sat on the sofa and allowed you to model the new tattoos for him. Your right arm didn't seem to have any new ink to it, the same three tattoos you had in there still looking beautiful after two years. You like the idea of having one arm slightly more bare than the other so your right arm only had those three on the inner side of it, peeking through whenever you were sleeveless tops. Your left arm was the one where the tattoos were the most noticeable, the ink pieces scattered along the extension of the limb.
"I got this one, it's a bee", you pointed to the inner part of your arm, "it represents my safe hive, the people who are always there for me even if I'm not there in person", you explained. You had moved in with Oscar a couple of months ago and, more than ever, you spent long periods of time away from your family since you travelled to see your boyfriend race as much as you could, "I know I can fly away, but no matter how far and how hard times can be, I'll always be able to come back".
"It looks so pretty, the detail on the wings is so precise", Oscar pointed out.
"I chose the artist at that studio because she is great at doing the fine line tatoos with red ink", you began again, smoothing out through wrap so Oscar could see, "it's a heart with some flowers blooming from it", you pointed to the anatomical drawing, "whenever I set myself to do something, I pour my heart and soul into it, and my intuition hasn't failed me, so it's a little symbol to that".
"The red is somehow both subtle against your skin and so eye catching as well, I think it's the contrast with this one here", Oscar lightly touched an older tattoo you had next to the new one.
"Then I got this one, which I am quite nervous to show you, actually", you admitted, looking at your right wrist and covering it for the mean time, "I know people are really fussy with having a relationship tattooed on you because things can change so fast, but I don't like to think like that - my tattoos represent times of my life and things that happened - and if anything happens and I can't absolutely tolerate it, I can always remove it", you shrugged your shoulders before uncovering it.
Oscar held your hand and inspected it gently - the thin knot was both black and red, symbolising you and Oscar with the different colours but tied together seamlessly.
"I had to get it on my right one because I wear my watch on the left", you mumbled and a little twinge of nervousness could be spotted in your tone given that he hadn't said anything, "do you like it?", you bit the bullet.
"I love it, it's so beautiful, delicate and feminine too", he smiled, kissing around it.
"I also got a lightning bolt here", you twisted your wrist, "this one is just black and it's quite tiny, but it's about all the times I insisted and persisted - my stubbornness too - and how much I value that in people", you smiled.
"You're stubborn? Never would have guessed it", your boyfriend teased, earning your giggles and an eyeroll from you, "the line is so beautiful, she did an amazing job!", he complimented.
"I also got my first neck tattoo", you mumbled, "well, it's the first time I do it there, not sure if that means I'll do another because it hurt a bit more than I expected", you blushed, letting Oscar pull your hair back so he could see it.
The red inked word was aligned with your ear, "I chose the word rare because it's a devotion to myself, my self-love - accepting that I'm not perfect and that that is okay - I love myself the way I am and it's also a lot thanks to you", you tried to keep the tears pooling on your eyes from falling, "you loved me for me, all of me, no matter how many times people liked to point out any of my tattoos or how I don't fit the 'wag role', and I want a reminder of it everyday", you smiled.
Oscar cupped your jaw gently, careful of the sore area as he kissed your lips in a hard, long, searing kiss, joining your foreheads afterwards, "I love you, Y/N, all of you", he whispered.
(Thank you for sending this in ✨️)
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junggunz · 2 days
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♡⸝⸝ nsfw alphabet: wooin yoo
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cw: fembodied reader. wooin is toxic. duh. typical thirsty rambles. an: what can i say- im a WHORE for sabbath crew. @ayylovley as promised, here is our community pp.
wooin's overall vibe while doing the deed: gfg by miguel // i like the way you kiss me by artemis
A - Aftercare (what they’re like after sex)
After rearranging your guts, Wooin is the type to ask you to get him water. He’s so sassy, saying shit like “I worked hard to make you cum that many times. All I’m asking for is some water.” Whether or not he wants cuddles afterwards is gonna depend on things like how he’s feeling, how much he likes you, or if he has time to laze around. In the event that he does want them, he’s not gonna ask you to cuddle; he will demand them. You wanna go to clean up or use the bathroom after? Too bad, Wooin thinks you should cuddle him while he’s feeling affectionate. 
B - Body Part (their favorite body part on themselves and their favorite body part on their partner)
On himself, highkey I think Wooin is really into his tongue. Like, why else would it always be out? He knows it’s a killer. 
On his partner…I’m not saying Wooin has a foot fetish, but he does give me the vibe that he would criticize you if you didn’t have good looking feet LMFAO. 
C - Cum (anything related to 💦💦💦)
Wooin likes to get real nasty with it. He loves cumming on you and in you equally. Gives me the impression that if he’s in a committed relationship with you, he would go as far to slurp his cum out of you just so he could spit it into your mouth. 
D - Dirty Secret 
Would there even be any secrets with Wooin- he seems like he would be a very forthcoming person when it comes to sex for the most part in my opinion. Any ‘secrets’ he might have he would be the type to bring them up as jokes or like to allude to them in another way. 
If he were to have a secret, I think it’d be something out of pocket like doing some blasphemous roleplay where you dress as a nun. This wouldn’t necessarily be a secret…but Wooin def seems like the type to be a bratty sub if you ever decide to dom him. 
E - Experience (how experienced are they? Do they know what they’re doing?)
Wooin is a slut. He knows exactly what he’s doing. Argue with your mom bout it. 
F - Favorite Position
Doggy. From the back. With his foot on your face. Also, butter churner if you’re flexible enough. 
G - Goofy (are they more serious or playful in the moment?)
Wooin is a good mix of serious and playful during sex. He’s definitely a teasing little shit so his playfulness can easily come across as mean.
H - Hair (how well groomed they are)
Seeing how well he maintains his haircut (he’s def a slut who gets fresh cuts every week or every other week) Wooin probably partakes in a bit of manscaping. Once again, if he doesn’t keep it trimmed, you’re not gonna be able to see how much he’s packing- he gives me the impression that he might be totally smooth down there when he feels like it. 
I - Intimacy (how romantic are they in the moment?)
It’s so rare to get Wooin to be romantic. He seems like the type to never really be romantic until you’ve been seeing him for a faaat minute. He’s actually so toxic- if you even give him just the impression that you’re thinking of seeing someone else, he’d probably put in more effort into showing you how much you actually mean to him.
J - Jack Off (how frequently do they masturbate?)
Not that often. Maybe every now and then if he wakes up really horny or can’t sleep. But Wooin definitely feels like masturbation is beneath him. Why settle for using his hand when he can use your throat? 
K - Kink
Like mentioned in ‘I’ you are not getting romantic sex from Wooin. He’s giving you that rough, degrading sex that almost makes you regret hooking up with him because you have no idea if he’ll call again, but at the same time…it felt really good. That being said…Wooin’s major kinks are gonna be degrading, dirty talking, spanking, and a bit of breathplay. 
Diving a little more into things, he’s also into:
Filming - so you can have a nice little souvenir of your time with him. Because he’s evil, he may or may not keep a copy of the video to show to his buddies. 
Phone sex - especially when you don’t initially know that he’s getting off to the sound of you talking.
Cockworship - no comment.
He’s also the type to spit in your mouth. The more often he does it, the more he likes you. 
Wooin definitely has a bunch of other kinks that I will leave up in the air, but those are just the main things I think of when it comes to him. Most important takeaway is that he likes his sex sloppy and exhilarating. 
L - Location (favorite places to do the deed)
Anywhere and everywhere ??? This man has no shame. 
M - Motivation (what turns them on and gets them going)
Wooin gets the most turned on when sex feels like a conquest or challenge. There are two types of people that I imagine him gravitating toward; someone who is hard to get and expresses initial disinterest in him OR someone who is a bit hesitant/shy when he puts the moves on them. He is a strategist and sees sex as a mental game before it becomes physical.
In a scenario where the two of you are already dating/acquainted with one another, Wooin would still like it when you play hard to get and initially ‘reject’ his advances so he could seduce you. But on the flip side, I think he would also like it if you came across as needy for him because who doesn’t enjoy the ego boost of knowing someone wants them real bad.
N - NO (what turns them off or something they’re strongly against)
Wooin seems very adventurous in the bedroom so I can’t think of too many of the common kinks he wouldn’t at least try once. One thing Wooin probably wouldn’t be too keen on trying is him being gagged. He has a filthy mouth and he’s the type to know exactly what to say to get you going; not being able to speak would frustrate him to no end. 
O - Oral (preference for giving or receiving, skill level)
Whether Wooin prefers to receive or give head will probably depend on his relationship with whoever he’s fucking tbh. He already knows that his tongue is magic and he can do all sorts of neat tricks with it so when he’s on the giving end, he sees it as something you have to work for and prove that you deserve.
P - Pace
Wooin is the type to keep you on your toes. His pace switches up pretty often. A lot of guys do that thing where they slow down when they don’t wanna cum too quickly but I don’t think Wooin would be one. It’s more likely for him to slow down when he knows you’re about to finish because he likes teasing you and then his pace will pick up when he’s getting close. 
Q - Quickie (opinions on them/how often)
He’s a big fan of quickies. Probably gets into them often because he’s a SLUT. Even in a serious relationship, quickies are still gonna be frequent.
R - Risk (do they like to experiment or take risks?)
Duh. Do I seriously need to say anything else. 
S - Stamina (how long do they last? How many rounds would they like to go for?)
In my Lookism NSFW Alphabets, I mention how almost all the characters are gonna have insane amounts of stamina. Same thing is gonna go for the Windbreaker characters tbh. Like, c’mon. Windbreaker is all about cyclists. OF COURSE EVERYONE IS GONNA HAVE MORE STAMINA THAN THE AVERAGE PERSON. 
With Wooin…I honestly haven’t decided if he would be the type to use sex as a means of improving his athletic performance or if he would work on his athletic performance so he could last longer in bed. But like either way, he’s taking you to Pound Town and then back several times.
T - Toy (how do they feel about using them?)
Wooin definitely dabbles in some toy usage when the mood strikes. While dating, he’s the type to make you wear one of those remote control vibrators in public when the two of you go on any sort of outing. 
U - Unfair (how much they like to tease)
Wooin is actually so unfair it’s ridiculous. He loves edging and orgasm denial. He has some selfish tendencies so he’s one of the characters that I can imagine not caring if his partner cums or not. What matters more to him if he’s able to leave you craving more of him. 
V - Volume (how loud they are and what sounds do they make?)
Already mentioned that Wooin is into dirty talk so it should be no surprise that he’s gonna be vocal. He makes all sorts of moans, groans and grunts. He might even whimper a bit when he’s feeling really good. 
W - Wild Card
Wooin is the wild card if we’re being honest. If him getting territorial over you when the two of you are in the situationship phase wasn’t enough of a wild card… Wooin’s ‘secret quirk’ would be him being into you marking him and getting possessive when it comes to him.
X - X-Ray (what’s in those pants?)
Being one of the ‘shorter’ Windbreaker characters (but he’s still tall to me tbh) his pp is gonna be proportional to his height and average length. Leans toward the thick side though. Has a nice curve to it. PROBABLY HAS HIS DICK PIERCED TBHHHHH.
Y - Yearning (how high is their sex drive?)
Wooin’s sex drive definitely fluctuates. I can’t imagine him being a horndog 24/7 even while dating because he gives me ‘money over bitches’ vibes as proven by the playlist i made for him lol. His sex drive does seem to increase whenever he’s bored or craving physical intimacy. 
Z ᶻ 𝗓 𐰁 -  (how quickly they fall asleep after.)       
Wooin would only fall asleep after sex if he was super comfortable with you. Definitely the type to send his one night stands home before he goes to bed. But like even if he were comfortable enough to sleep in your presence, he’d probably be on his phone for a bit before actually going to bed. 
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bonus!
“It's funny,” Wooin starts off, a smug grin tugging at his lips as he looks at you. “You always say that you're over me but here you are; under me once again.”
You shiver as his fingers spider along your cheek and jawline, his thumb grazes your lips oh so gently before it catches the corner of your mouth and pries it open. It’s almost an instinctive response at this point for you to let your jaw go slack, sticking your tongue out so Wooin can let a fat glob of his spit land on the waiting muscle. He never has to ask because you just take it; willingly at that. Perhaps it’s because you like the way his saliva looks as it drips past the shiny jewelry in his tongue before it cascades down the serpentine appendage. Or possibly, between doing the Devil’s Tango with him and bickering with him because he did so many things outside of the bedroom to get under your skin, you developed a little crush on him. 
Maybe just maybe, the old wives tale about letting someone spit in your mouth was witchcraft and a surefire way to become obsessed with them was true. No matter how many times you threatened to cut him off because you were tired of going in circles with him, you couldn’t resist picking up whenever he called. It was a bit pathetic to think about.
But thinking is unnecessary while you eagerly take Wooin’s spit in your mouth and swallow it down like it was the only way to hydrate yourself. 
“Don’t start getting sassy with me…You’re gonna kill the mood.” You mutter, finally able to string together a response to his initial cheeky remark. 
“It’s true though.” He laughs, getting you out of your clothes by tugging on the garments to silently command you to start stripping for him. “You keep trying to run away from me like I don’t already have you wrapped around my finger.”
By the time Wooin gets out of his own clothes, you prove his point by letting him maneuver your body into one of his favorite positions. Back in the perfect arch so your ass is up and ready for the taking, he doesn’t even need to prep you. From just a little bit of kissing and groping you when he first showed up at your doorstep was enough to get you like a fountain.   
“Besides, why would you want to call it quits when your pussy gets this wet for me?” Wooin comments, tauntingly rubbing his shaft through your slick folds and making it a point to rub the leaking tip against your swollen pearl.
Aligning himself up to your hole then starting to slowly sink into you, inch by inch. You pant at the intrusion, clutching onto the sheets, feeling his hefty base slap against you when he bottoms out. Head empty and tight cunt full of him is exactly how Wooin likes you. He wouldn’t deny that he does like a few other things about you— some physical and some about your personality— but in this state, you’re more susceptible to this charm so of course this is favorite way to have you. You’d do anything he’d ask if it meant he’d make you cum. 
As he remains motionless within your walls, you start to grow antsy; unable to stop yourself from rocking your hips back and forth just so you could feel his cock giving you the friction you craved. It was a fifty-fifty toss up of whether Wooin would let you continue like this or punish you; but those were odds you were willing to work with. 
Luckily, Wooin was in a good mood today.
“That’s right, baby, there you go— feel how hard it makes me when you slut yourself out for me?” His praise is so dirty, it’s hard to believe that it’s not an insult. But with how tight your insides squeeze him, you can feel him throb inside you. Every twitch, every pulse. He’s all lubed up from your pussy and it allows you to move faster. 
“Pretty little cunt just can't get enough of my cock.” Wooin muses, his tongue wetting his parched lips as his gaze remains fixed on your body beneath his.
The tantalizing sight of your hips undulating and your ass bouncing off his pelvis as you take him deep has Wooin stuck. He could honestly die happy if this was the last thing he saw. It’s kind of ironic to Wooin— how he insisted on only hitting it from the back so neither of you would catch feelings— yet here he is, convinced that he’s in love with watching your ass move and seeing how your hungry pussy takes his dick oh so well.
Maybe over time, he’d come around to settling down with you. Taking life more seriously. Knocking you up with a kid or two. For now though, he was just going to enjoy fucking the absolute lights out of you until he had no doubts about you ever ghosting him. 
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phrandallanton · 1 day
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ranfren headcannons
I've done everything but posted headcannons and a fanfiction. This won't do. Here's some headcannons of mine! All of them aren't serious so don't take them that way d(>_・ ). Feel free to ask me about any other headcannons I'll definitely give more!
Randal
• if he has any pimples on his face he definitely picks at them untill they pop
• either is really good at math or sucks at math and hates it. (No in-between)(leaning towrds sucking at math more)
• has tear stains on his homework sometimes
• he bathes everyday dispite what people think. (Luther forces him too)
• his hair gets really oily. He has tried to cook with the oil his hair produced once. Nobody ate dinner that night.
• if he's frustrated and you go to poke him he'll scream on top of his lungs, but like the scream that goes from normal yelling to banshee screeching. "stop touCHING MEEEEĚĘƏƏ!!!!"
• gets in a lot of internet arguments about things that don't matter at all ("I think you'll find it's 'whom'.")
• he'd get so mad if he ask you to hold his glasses, and you proceed to carelessly get your fingerprints all over them.
• draws with those "how to draw anime" guid books.
• if he ever took a driving test, he would have already failed the moment he opens the car door.
• loves kraft mac and cheese, double points if it's in shapes of popular marketable characters.
• now thinking of it, if he was a pasta dish he would be kraft mac and cheese.
• bites his toe nails off (gross) Luther tried to get him to stop but he probably does the same thing when no one is around.
• sneezes weirdly. Like..."ah...ah...AH CHOOwoowoowoowoo..." and shakes his head. Or if he's covering it in his elbow it'll sound like a trumpet horn.
Luther
• he can dance but it's weird.
• if you tell him a joke he'll turn it into a life lesson.
• he wins every staring contest. However if your eyes start watering he'll get worried and start begging you to blink.
• treats women (and everyone) with so much respect, but he won't hesitate to punch a women if he really has to.
• *shakes his indext finger* "no no no"
• Randal probably tried to set him up on a blind date, he didn't like that. It was very awkward to say the least.
• genuinely gets happy when there are bagels at the function.
• when asked for advice, it'll sound like he's going to say something really meaningful and life changing, but then does a complete 180. "Oh, you think your ugly? Well people will have their opinions about you and ...well... you aren't the best thing to look at. But there's worst out there ♡."
• I can see him gobbling up some cheese and broccoli.
• has a walk in closet filled with clothes and accessories he doesn't wear.
• he 100% definitely has the goofiest giggle in the planet.
• eats ice cream with his front teeth.
Nyon
• I will stand by this till the day I die, he's really funny. He has a really good sense of humor. But I could also seem him not understanding jokes too. But at the same TIIIMMEE I feel like he'd be naturally funny.
• he knows lots of slang and pop culture due to watching TV a lot and probably quotes stuff in his head. (Maybe out loud if he was talking to you)
• has a lot of opinions, will never say them out loud, even when asked.
• he's the smartest out of everyone, including Luther.
• easily amused. please give him one of those little fishy nightlights. He'd enjoy looking at it so much.
• he's good at card games and Nyen doesn't like that. (Nyen has stabbed him over games of uno)
• has a really funny looking smile. (There's that one drawing in the Christmas comic where he's smiling weird after he saw Luther's reaction to the fire place tape he made for him)
Nyen
• listens to death metal but then listens to a jpop song right after. ("Can't let gang know I fw this")
• good at math, sucks at reading.
• loves hearing about drama and will be nosy.(come on man he loves Judge Judy and romance novels)
• sounds like Tom from Tom and Jerry when he yells.
• he calls himself "The Tom Cat" and (canonically) "Top of the pets in the house hold" which is practically the same as "I'm the alpha" so he's probably has said that.
• sucks at card games. Will legit end up with half of the pack of cards in his hands in the middle of an uno game.
• actually the weakest of them all. (I won't go into all that right now. But I can definitely beat him up in a fight, just sayin.)
•him and Nyon probably have times where they stay up and chit chat for a bit before they sleep, Example (from my old notes I had):
Nyon high on weed:...why do we call oranges..oranges...but we don't call apples...reds..??..
Nyen:....sh*t...you got a point... does that mean we would call lemons: short yellows and bananas: long yellows so it doesn't get confusing?...
*they then discuss this for an hour or so*
• Snores really really LOUD. Sounds like a car.
• oddly very ticklish I bet.
~~~~~~
That's all I have now. It's 2 in the morning and I'm falling asleep. I might write other characters headcannons later.
"I'm going to sleep" -bop it
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ladypeonies · 1 day
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"Acting is a dangerous profession."
credit.
Some people will watch this extract and just brush if off perhaps as fanservice and miss the point completely. What I like about Chris and Xuan it’s how candid and honest they are about the whole process.
The host says it all, “acting is a dangerous profession,” and both actors agreed. She’s right. So many fans don’t get it, and they focus on the superficial. It’s not just a dangerous profession in Asia. In my opinion it’s more challenging there because most of entertainment industries in Asia rely a lot on Method acting and immersion. You have notice how they call themselves by their character names, on and off set and it has several purposes. I won’t dwell on them here because this post would be too long.
And you have method acting which I have several issues with. It’s basically psychology. I’m not going to write an essay on it here, it basically means one can convince themselves of anything and you can become anyone you want. It’s becoming someone else entirely for a time, by changing your habits based on your environment. You study a character and become them, by assuming their point of view, mannerism, state of mind etc. If they drink you start drinking, if they love someone you love them too etc. Some actors are strongly against method acting for a reason and stick to use their imagination which is way safer. In a live Xuan talked about how physically and mentally it impacted him.
You are still yourself but you can’t escape your character, their emotions bleeds into you. And you use it to play the best version of them by using your body. Of course, Xuan fell in love with his co-star and had all those “evil” thoughts. He learned to fall in love with him and make him the centre of his universe. The preparation for the role, to build a bond took longer than the whole filming.
So, any actor in their shoes will feel the same, if they say no well, they are either lying or just bad method actors, that’s it, no in between.
The trick is to use those emotions while filming and then to be able to let them go. And that’s the issue, because for many it takes time to do so and get rid of them. Notice how Xuan doesn’t say while they were filming NC scenes he had evil thoughts but he was sitting there, so before or even after. The thing is if you hold on to those emotions it can hurt your mental health. They can be addictive. Under those circumstances sometimes there is a co-pendency which appear between actors. I remember an actor explaining how he basically went through a heartbreak because he got attached to his co-star who was engaged with someone else and he was full of emotions for his on-screen partner. And those emotions weren’t there before they started filming. And they knew each other, they were friends before and he never felt that way about them. And his mind knew they weren’t a good match but he kept longing for them.
I talked here about the bubble actors found themselves in. And the best remedy to get rid of those feelings, thoughts are a healthy distance, and being back to oneself. I hear often, “they’re just acting, it’s their job…” etc. Actors aren’t robot. There is a process to play a role and they all of a process to get out of a particular challenging role. Obviously, all roles aren’t the same.
Another thing: Chris and Xuan are friends and were friends but under the circumstances, they don’t have the same friendship they had before filming, the one from a year or two years ago. Friendship 101 had specific boundaries, and now there are new ones in friendship 201. It’s not possible to know the taste of your friend’s mouth, their skin, and be in the same exact friendship. Actors are not robots there isn’t a reset button. Now there is a new set of boundaries. Perhaps before there wasn’t any skinship now because there are use to each other touch, there is more skinship. Before they wouldn’t talk about certain subject, now they can. I believe they gain and also lost some things. The only possibility MAYBE to go back to friendship 101 would be a complete separation for weeks, reset. But it’s not happening because there are promotions and also, you get use to seeing each other all the time, I guess.
Now method acting and falling in love, it happens of course, but has to go to the test of time and distance. And one has a girlfriend/boyfriend and start method acting with a co-star LOL. 9 out 10 will break up with their significant other, the GF or BF will leave, it happens all the time.
PS1: I also took the opportunity to answer a couple of asks.
PS2 :Translation by Wava please be kind to your translators and grateful for the work they do, I personally hate translating it can be so taxing.
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sailor-aviator · 3 hours
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Hey.
Go ahead and get settled because this will be...long, in true Liz fashion.
So, by now I'm sure most of you have heard what's happened. If not, you can search this blog for some answers or others for more.
I joined this fandom offiicially at the end of September after being a long time lurker. I had just lost my job and times were uncertain for me. I felt inspired to write, and as someone whose formative years were shaped by the fandom experience, I wanted to feel that sense of belonging again - to feel like a part of a community. I've talked about it on here before, but I started my fandom days in the original Hunger Games fandom when the first movie had just come out, and then I shifted gears towards the SuperWhoLock fandom. If you know anything about SuperWhoLock, then you know you had to have pretty tough fucking skin to be a part of any of it.
Of course, this was back in the day when fandom was an actual community and not authors having to beg for scraps of engagement and people thinking its a numbers game. I was a fairly large blog within the SuperWhoLock community (Waywardly-Carrying-On was the username), but I left fandom for a few years because life got hectic and I felt like I had outgrown the fandom itself as I was no longer watching any of the shows. As the years went on, I started to yearn for the fandom experience again, which is how I found myself dipping toes into several different ones.
I was so excited to publish my first fanfic. I had convinced myself that I wasn't a good writer (much to the chagrin of my irl friends), and I had put a pause on writing my original story. I wanted to write this idea about a cowboy and a girl using characters that I had grown to love like I did way back in my older days. So, I started posting, and I was so excited for the story, that I kept posting almost daily. MamaMay was one of the first people to embrace not only my story, but me as a person into the fandom. She made me feel welcomed and wanted.
Pretty much right off the bat I was already getting anons telling me that I was being too much and that I needed to calm down with all the posting. I was confused because...this is Tumblr. It's literally a blogging website? Why wouldn't I post? I decided to ignore the mean words (not before giving my opinion, of course) and kept on doing my thing. Well, the anons got continually worse and worse. I had a suspiscion as to who the anons could be, but I never had concrete proof. So, I experimented with blocking suspects until finally it worked. I'm not naming names because that's not my style, so don't even bother asking.
The fact of the matter is, some of you have entered fandom spaces for the first time, and you don't know how to act. You don't care to learn fandom etiquette as you've made abundantly clear by calling fandom olds every name under the sun while utilizing the anonymous feature. Newsflash, you're part of the problem. You're the reason why authors don't want to publish anymore. You are the reason that something that's supposed to be fun is starting to feel like a goddamn chore.
How many times can authors on here say that we aren't machines? We have lives outside of this website: family, friends, jobs, school, etc. Some of you really are just hellbent on making everyone around you miserable, and it's sad. You can't just leave well enough alone and let people enjoy something, no you feel like everyone has to enjoy it the same way as you.
Some of you go after authors on here because of some weird sense of jealousy too. I don't know why my shit blew up, babe, I really don't. But I started out with no followers and no support just like everyone else. I'll tell you what helped me though: following fandom etiquette and reaching out to other creators to build an actual community. None of this "I've reblogged three of your things and now I'm messaging you so that you return the favor." No, I reached out to make actual friendships which is what fandom is SUPPOSED to be. If someone was clearly not interested, it was fine!! I backed off and kept doing my own thing.
Some of you think being mean on the internet makes you big and bad. Guess what! It doesn't! It's loser mentality and I feel genuinely sorry for you. I'm sorry that people in your own life made you feel so small as to feel like you had to lash out at strangers on the internet who are just trying to have fun.
Anyway, this is my really long way of saying that I am taking a break for a little bit. I have no idea how long it will be - could be the weekend, could be a couple of weeks, could be forever. I need time to decide if this is something I want to keep persuing. If I come back, I don't know if I will remain a TGM blog or if I'll shift gears and hop into another fandom with a rebrand. Guess we'll just have to see.
To the people on here who have been a constant source of joy, laughter, and support: thank you. From the bottom of my heart. Your presence has meant everything to me, and I hope that my break sees me wanting to come back and giggle about the silly plane movie with you all again.
Nothing but love,
Liz 💛
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radiation · 2 days
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Video games talk dont even mind me
Bro video games as a whole are so far behind movies in terms of storytelling and pacing that it’s kind of baffling. Which of course is obvious and makes sense for plenty of reasons but like, just think about it — watching movies a lot can’t help but train a certain muscle that gives you a strong instinct for structure. I find that people who watch movies very casually, without too much artistic consideration, and don’t really know the language associated with it are still very often irked by specific issues with a movie’s pacing, dialogue, etc and are relatively capable of putting it into words. Likewise, for many movies out there, regardless of your opinions on any specific directorial choices, you do feel as if the movie is essentially cohesive and creatives involved reasonably knew what they were doing and were acting very intentionally, and there weren’t any major oversights. This includes independent films as well. Meanwhile I think both players and developers much more commonly lack the instinct for narrative cohesion when it comes to video games. Definitely a fair amount of exceptions to this, but in general I find it’s difficult to find video games that are very narrative heavy & aspire to great artistic heights that don’t suffer from inherent structural problems, pedantic dialogue, tons of dead air, etc in a way that wouldn’t slide as easily in a movie. A lot these flaws certainly have to be due to the presence of gameplay elements and having to balance that with story when the two are almost always, at least in some small respect, inherently at odds. As for the inability for devs and players to pick up on / fix these flaws…is it because gameplay can distract from it and make up for it? With longer games that have runtimes closer to the experience of a television series, is there a similar reaction where if it’s long enough you will sit thru smaller, momentary issues because you enjoy the bigger picture? Yet games are a lot more engaging than a show as a audio, visual, and tactile experience, you can’t multitask and tune the information out as easily as with a boring episode of a show, so you’d think people would be more picky? But maybe because it’s so attention-demanding people are more immersed, and believe in the experience enough to more easily accept the story? Books demand the same kind of active attention to experience though, and the bar for story in books is a lot higher, so what gives? Well a lot of these have kind of obvious answers but still Interesting questions to ask that lead to Damn , That Is Still Crazy How Much This Shit Is In Its Infancy like sometimes I feel like I’m going crazy with how many writing issues are present in games, particularly in indie games that are Trying To Be Good At Writing that feel excessively obvious and yet I often struggle to find my sentiment mirrored by others. IDK. And back to movies the thing is I feel like if the same people trying to write these kind of games had pursued movies instead then they would’ve ended up making well structured movies that avoided all of these pitfalls. WHAT IS IT WITH GAMES? Well we know what it is with games and we could spend all day discussing a million more reasons this is the way it is but no matter what I think we should just be super conscientious of these pitfalls when making narrative focused games and aspire to a greater level of intentionality that is absolutely possible . Build that muscle by really understanding the quality of storytelling long-present in other mediums.Well the other issue with indie devs is that everyone believes they are totally breaking new ground story wise that they don’t take a step back, humble themselves a bit, and cross-reference what they’re doing with the tons of other stories that have already achieved similar things But thats a conversation for another day .
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bolithesenate · 3 days
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Hi! For some reason it wont let me ask from the blog I want it to, which is why the random name, but I really love your stuff! Quick question - what do you think would he Dooku/Sifo Dyas/Jocasta/Jaster’s main rule(s) for Padawans/foundling-child-thingy?
Sorry if this is boring or smthing its just Ive decided your word on these things is law!
Thank you!!! Xxxxxxx
eyyy!! never apologize for blessing my inbox with asks! especially not about the blorbos!!
Now, I'm not entirely sure on what you mean with 'what their main rules on children' are.... but that just means my answer gets to be more elaborate.
Sifo-Dyas:
In my head he is the most child loving of the bunch. He would THRIVE on taking a Padawan and honestly I could even see him have a biological child most out of all four of them. But he bars himself from either because of his visions – since there's no telling on how they would interact with a Master/Padawan bond or smt similar he isn't willing to risk a child's wellbeing for his own desires.
That being said, he lives all the more vicariously through Dooku and Jocasta when they take Padawans. (As well as visits the Crèche any day he can) In any universe he and Jaster are a thing he definitely tries his best to be of assistance there as well, even if just as a long-distance-father. He doesn't care if someone claims it's attachment. Raising children is only good and just and if he can help in ANY capacity he will do so and you'd have to kill him first to make him stop.
(And even then his Force ghost probably would find ways to meddle)
Dooku:
Dad-in-denial-supreme.
His stuck-up ass will loudly proclaim he doesn't like children and that they are too noisy and erratic and then turn around and immediately take the next best street urchin under his wing. Provided they look at a lightsaber with even a modicum of interest.
I mean, considering the NUMEROUS apprentices he has in the different flavors of canon (Rael, Qui-Gon, Komari, Sev'rance, Grievous, Assaij, Savage) this man simply is MADE to teach.
In fact, people wiser than me (hi Jess), have famously said that he'll actually go stir-crazy if he doesnt have someone to drill in makashi.
He isn't the best at emotions, but that's what he has Sifo for. And also he WILL offer each and every one of his Padawans/Apprentices/pseudo-children a place in House Serenno's actual lineage, even if just to spite his dead father and brother. But only after they turn 18/are knighted. Whichever comes first. (similarely to Jaster, he refuses to paint any more of a target on a child's back than strictly necessary)
Jaster:
As absolutely child-loving as most Mandos are. He would have adopted many more children already if not for the target that his existence as Mand'alor paints on them.
So while he tries to find them good homes, unless he is directly responsible for them or honor bound in some other way to adopt, he might refuse to say the words (even if it pains him gravely).
In any universe where he's in a relationship with the rest of the blorbos, you better bet he sees their Padawans as his foundlings-by-extension. Even if all the Jedi WILL argue that it is not the same (except Sifo, Sifo can has and will support this interpretation of the Master-Padawan bond until his dying breath). Although, again, he might not ever make it official. Politicians have many enemies. MANDALORIAN politicians doubly so. That isn't beneficial for a child's health long-term.
In any universe where he never gets to be Mand'alor tho he has like 10 foundlings MINIMUM.
Jocasta:
Last but not least. For her, children/padawans were a very distant thought most of her life. Biological ones she would never have in my opinion – either she's infertile to begin with or she got a permanent solution to prevebt pregnancy early on.
And while she did eventually take on three Padawans (yes, Olee counts even if she was stolen from her), she always considered them more students/peers than children in the familial sense. She just isn't very maternal in any capacity, but that is fine.
While she isn't involved a lot in the child-rearing aspects of whatever kids the other three drag along, she very much IS always up for bending some rules in favor of her precious nepo-niblings. Being the Head Archivist lets you get away with quite a bit.
Especially if it ultimately benefits the kid in question academically.
I hope the answer you were looking for is in here, otherwise let me know! I'm always up for talking more about the blorbos!
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