#He was never likeable he always sucked

[abductedeeveee]

my favorite part about the mouthwashing fandom is that there is not one person who likes Jimmy and I find it refreshing that the awful male character's actions aren't forgiven like in some fandoms that won't be named,*cough* Warrior cats *cough*

[gaywineauntsstuff]

Dick Grayson is my favorite lil guy

And my favorite way of consuming content of my favorite lil guy is the core 5 titans

There is also about 5 billion pieces of media where these 5 interact and some of it sucks so here I am scrapbooking canon together with glue and scissors so I can talk about how I view Dicks relationship with the other OG titans and how different these relationships are from one another while all still being boiled down to found family love

Dick & Donna: Listen. To. Me. These two aren't besties, or fav teammates or siblings. These two are the sun and earth revolving around each other except they each think the other one is the Sun. Dick Grayson and Donna Troy are the blueprint for platonic soulmates. Dick and Donna make everyone around them believe in ancient story by plato "humans once had 4 arms and legs and 2 faces and the God Zeus split them in half for their hubris and now they are destined to roam the earth forever looking for their other half". If y'all think Dick wasn't doing well after Jason died?? Donna Troys death fundamentally changed who Dick Grayson was and how he was written in teams for years. Donna Troy and Dick Grayson absolutely have debated getting platonically married (not canon but it is in my heart) and the only reason they haven't is BC if they do, Donna will kidnap Dick and never let him within 1000 feet of Bruce Wayne and Gotham.

Dick & Roy: remember how I said Dick was fucked up post Troias death in the comics? yeah? Roy Harper is the only reason he made it out of that period of his life alive. These two are like fire and Gasoline, they're quick and angry and always inexplicably near each other. They are VICIOUS with one another in a way they almost never are with anyone else. They try so hard to ruin their relationship bc implicitly they know (unless its the new 52 which I ignore for my own mental wellbeing-hey I did say this was a scrap book of canons) they'll always be there for each other. Roy Harper never misses, Dick Grayson cannot fall and yet Dick is there to hold Roy when his hand trembles and Roy is there to catch Dick when he loses his Grip.

Dick Grayson is the first person Roy calls to get Lian

Roy Harper is the designated keep Dick Grayson alive even if he has to tie the bastard up-

Dick (and wally depending on the run) help Roy with his addiction)

these two are each others roman empires

Dick & Wally: to cut back on the pretentious seriousness of this post. Every time these two are drawn together be it 80s road trips or being the most likeable part of tom Taylors run. Wally west always reads like he's about to invite Dick to swing with him and his wife. If you see them as platonic, romantic (right person wrong time is my favourite Fanon flavour but canonically I like em besties) or somewhere in between Wally West is always Dick Graysons best friend. There is something so wholesome about the fact that Wally canonically stalks checks up on Dick Grayson as much as he does his wife and twins and Dick who is a bat, notorious for expressing their love via breaking into your house and doing your casework for you. Is getting stalked checked up on by someone who loves him without it triggering his "see obviously you're not good enough they're literally babysitting you" paranoia. its like meeting your partners love language needs but its for deeply messed up individuals. They canonically call themselves best friends, and while Dick will always love Roy he always Likes being around Wally (as well as love him but that's a given)

(sidetone are you even besties if people don't think you're dating when they meet you?)

Dick & Garth: The amount of trust, love and respect that tempest holds for Nightwing melts my damn heart (but then again everything garth does melts my damn heart, baby Garth you will always be famous) they are such an underrated pairing and I love the fact that no matter the media, whether they're rivals like in the cartoons or Garth deferring to Dick as leader to the point where he disobeys aquaman (rebirth) Bc yeah THATS how much my purple eyed perfect boy trusts wing. There is always this really sweet understanding that Garth can go to Dick for advice (he asks for Donna advice in titans and advice on his relationship with Dolphin in the comics). And him and Dicks reunion post RIC? I love them sm. Its just... There was also a period of time where Garth was the only titan with sense and tbh sometimes its refreshing to see that when the rest of them (except donna she was dead at the time we never say a bad word about donna in this household) are being fucking insane

[honey-on-your-tongue]

Warnings: depictions of blood/blood kink.

Mean Miguel O'Hara x fem!reader

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Miguel isn't the type to ever be smitten. He's not the kind to stare after some pretty girl that gives him eyes, and he's not the kind to flirt around. Ever. And he was pretty sure you were going to be just another of the many spiders he's worked with.

You're not. He's head over heels for you.

Funny, witty, persistent. You take no shit from anyone. Not even from him. You've never been afraid of him, when he snaps or yells or makes his usual snarky comments, you don't even blink. You cross your arms, level his gaze, shift your weight to one of your hips and call him out. Calm and collected, your voice full of authority and confidence, and it always manages to shut him up. He'll purse his lips and turn away from you. Then you know you've won.

Not today.

Today, you walked away first. He yelled at you in a fit of rage even though the issue hadn't even been your fault.

"Miguel. Take it easy,” you tried to calm him down. “We'll fix this. We always do.”

“The fuck would you know? All you do is make more of a mess.”

“No. I don't. I'm here to help.”

He scoffed. “Help? You're useless. All you ever do is annoy everyone around you. No one stands you.” His eyes had met yours and he'd snarled, “Everyone hates you.”

And you knew it wasn't true. But it still hurt. You'd clenched your jaw, eyes narrowing at him. And then you turned around and walked away.

No one saw you the rest of the day.

Guilt has been eating at him all day. He's in his bedroom, pacing from one side to the other, hands tangled in his hair, sharp teeth digging into his lower lip.

“Fuck,” he growls at himself. He doesn't want to, but he's going to do it anyway.

You're sitting on your bed, a cigarette between your fingers. You exhale the smoke slowly, wiping away a tear that rolls down your cheek.

A portal opens in your room and you sigh. You're expecting Peter to show again, fully intending on comforting you again.

Instead, Miguel shows. When you see him, surprise rushes through you, but you're quick to mask it.

“Took a wrong turn, did you?” you say flatly. You take a drag from your cigarette and he frowns.

“Didn't know you smoked,” he mumbles, not waiting for an invitation. He steps closer to you and sits beside you on the bed.

You hum.

He swallows his pride. “That's not good for you, sabes. It'll kill you.”

“Yeah, thanks, dad,” you spit. “Is that what you came here to do? Point out all my mistakes and tell me how I'm gonna die?”

He sighs. “I'm trying to apologize, kid.” That stuns you into silence. “I...overstepped.”

“Understatement,” you mutter, putting your cigarette out.

He huffs silently. “This is fucking ridiculous,” he sighs. “Look. I didn't mean what I said. I was...upset. You-you know how I get when things don't go my way. And it...It was a low blow. I'm sorry.”

You blink at him. “Say that again?”

He throws you a glare, but sucks it up. “I'm sorry,” he says between clenched teeth. “I didn't mean it, alright.” He huffs a thick sigh, looking away from you, his gaze focused straight ahead. “And it's not true anyway. It was a cheap lie.”

You smile slightly, nudging his shoulder with yours. “I know that. I'm too much of a likeable person.”

He turns to look at you, that sharp gaze making you freeze. Your breath hitches, mouth inching open, and his eyes fall to your lips.

You swallow, drawing his eyes to the dip of your throat. He meets your gaze.

“Miguel...” Your voice is a soft, quiet sound. A low purr that makes his blood rush south.

“Ven acá,” he growls, huge hands moving to cup your face. He pulls you closer, kissing you roughly, sharp canines poking your lower lip.

You gasp, palms pressing to his chest. He kisses you rough, hungry, like he's been aching for you all this time.

His hand slides from your cheek to your neck, down your arm to your waist. He tugs you closer, your leg pressing against his.

Your hand finds one of the buttons of his shirt and starts fiddling with it. He smirks against you, hands moving to your hips to drag you onto his lap.

He makes a low, contented sound against your lips when your clothed core rubs against his hard cock. He slides his tongue into your mouth, tasting the cigarette you'd been smoking.

Your hands hold onto his shoulders, nails digging into his skin slightly. Almost instinctively, your hips start grinding on his, a whine leaving you.

He grunts slightly, starting to guide your movements in small circles, your clit rubbing against the thick tip of his cock, making you jerk in his grasp.

“Princesa,” he hums, “let me make it up to you.”

You meet his gaze. His pupils are blown wide, eyes darkened with lust. You don't even have to _think_ about it.

“Alright,” you say. “As long as you don't leave me waiting.”

He chuckles lowly. His hand moves to your thighs, thumbs caressing the inside of your thighs, inching higher until he's rubbing your cunt through your jeans.

You exhale softly, swallowing hard. He pops the button open, unzips your jeans, his knuckles grazing against your soaked folds.

You quiver on top of him. “Miguel.” It's a soft sigh, a breathless plea for more.

He dips his mouth into the crook of your neck. His tongue is warm, wet as it drags over your pulse.

He lifts you slightly, helping you out of your jeans before pulling you back onto his lap. His rough fingers caress you through your panties, gathering your slick until his fingers are dripping with it.

He raises his fingers to his lips, licks your arousal off. You blush as you watch, a wave of desire crashing over you and flooding your senses. He can barely contain himself at your taste.

He wants to toss you onto the bed, bend you over it and fuck you hard and fast. He wants you on top, wants to make you bounce on his cock until you're crying with ecstasy. He wants to tie you up, watch you squirm as he makes you come over and over and over, making sure you feel nothing but pleasure.

He pulls your panties aside, his digits quick to find your clit. You barely have time to react when he's already rubbing the nub in tight circles, his sharp teeth dragging over your jaw.

You whine, hips bucking, thighs tightening around his hips. “Fuck,” you hiss, eyes shut tight.

“I'm sorry, princesa,” he says. “Didn't mean to make you feel bad. Never meant to hurt you.” He nibbles your shoulder, his fingers pulling away from your clit. He tugs your panties and you lift your hips to take them off. Instead, he holds you down against him and tears your panties off.

You gasp at the sound of the thin fabric tearing, and he chuckles. “Después te compro más, princesa.” I'll buy you more later. “Don't worry about it.”

You nod. “Yeah, alright.”

He considers throwing the ruined panties aside, but he ends up tucking them in the front pocket of his jeans. He knows he's going to find a bunch of uses for it on those late nights he can't fall asleep.

He runs his fingers up your slit, spreading your folds and tracing your slick entrance with his middle finger. You shiver and he digs his teeth into his bottom lip.

“Princesa,” he groans, “look at how wet I've got you. You pretty, pretty thing...” He kisses your jaw, sharp teeth grazing your skin. He slides his thick middle finger into you, feeling your soft walls clench around him.

You moan softly, a breath leaving your lips. Your nails dig into his shoulders, a shaky exhale escaping you. “Miguel,” you say quietly, beginning to move your hips against his hand. “Ahh...”

He slides a second finger into you and grunts at the sound you make. He curls his fingers, pressing against your g-spot and making you whimper. His thumb catches your clit, drawing neat circles on it.

“Princesa, there's something I wanna teach you,” he says against your shoulder. “Want to make you feel something new.”

“Yeah?” you question, breathless.

You can feel him grin against your skin. “Has anyone ever made you squirt?”

You shudder. “No,” you reply, eyes fluttering shut. “Never.”

Miguel smirks. “Then it'll be my pleasure to teach you, princesa.”

You shiver, whimpering lowly. His fingers touch every right spot, with the perfect pressure and rhythm.

He pulls his face back a little so he can see you, his eyes watching your every reaction. He admires the way you tremble, your plump lips open as moans and whimpers leave you.

His eyes glisten with a predatory lust that has you shivering. And then he kisses your mouth, hard and hungry, almost bruising your lips with his. He licks you, his tongue sliding into your mouth to taste you.

You whine softly, legs quaking, and he moans lowly, a deep rumble in his chest that makes your arousal spark.

He slightly grazes your lips with his sharp canines, making you gasp, and the sound sends an animalistic heat through his body. Almost involuntarily, he bites your lower lip, hard, not only bruising the soft flesh, but also drawing a little bit of blood.

You hiss at the sensation, the pain adding to the endless flow of pleasure within you. He licks at your blood, groaning at the taste of it.

You move a hand from his shoulder to the hair at the back of his head, tugging at the soft locks there. He growls out a moan, a sharp breath leaving him. “Princesa,” he says lowly, as if in warning.

You whine in response, your hips beginning to stutter against his hand. You can't breathe right and you're trembling almost violently. You can feel your orgasm nearing, growing within you like a balloon of warmth low in your stomach.

He can tell you're close. His eyes shine as he watches you, his cock twitching as your velvet walls clench around his fingers.

“Come on, princesa,” he says lowly, leaning closer to your ear,licking your earlobe. “You can do it for me, yeah? You can come for me, can't you?”

You nod, moaning. “Yes...Mhmm!”

“Muy bien, princesa,” he praises, eyes darkening. “Almost there, aren't you?”

You whimper, trying to reply. But the sensation within you is dizzying, stupefying. Your orgasm grows closer and closer, making your every moan nothing more than a pathetic little whimper.

And suddenly a new sensation takes over you, growing deep in your womb and spreading to the rest of your body.

“Miguel—” You don't get the chance to say anything else to him. Your body shivers and your orgasm is suddenly dragging you under, your eyes fluttering shut.

He gasps softly as you come, your body shaking as you squirt onto him. He can't glance away, can't stop moving his fingers. He just keeps going, stuck in a trance as he watches your arousal gushing all over him.

You whimper when the pleasure becomes too much, one of your hands racing to grab onto his wrist weakly.

“Miguel, 's too much.”

He stops his movements then, eyes rising to yours. “Oh, princesa,” he says, voice rough and deep. “You did so well. So good, cariño.” He pulls his fingers out of you, licking them clean as you watch.

You lean towards his ear and whisper, “Miguel, please, fuck me.”

He shudders as your breath caresses the skin of his neck. “Say it again,” he orders quietly.

You grin. “Miguel, fuck me. I want you inside of me. Need your cock in me.”

“Dios,” he grunts, eyes shutting as his cock jerks in his pants, eager. “Esa boca tuya, princesa...Tienes carita de ángel y aun así...” That mouth of yours, princess...You have an angel's face and yet... “Capable of being so, so dirty. It drives me fucking crazy, princesa.”

He picks you up, placing you face down on the bed, one of his hands on your hip while the other one pushes you down against the mattress.

You gasp, back arching as he teases your raw, soaked folds with a finger.

He keeps his eyes on your cunt before moving them to your ass. His hands splay over the soft flesh, kneading it and squeezing it before he delivers a soft slap to it. You whine and his lips curl into a slight smirk.

He undoes his pants eagerly, pushing his jeans off, his underwear falling away with them. His cock springs free, the tip glistening with precum. He's so hard, he can't believe the way you affect him. It's insane how easy it is for you to turn him on and make him forget about everything else.

He runs the thick head of his cock between your folds and you shudder, hips jerking away before pressing back against his in search of more.

He holds tight onto your hips, fingers digging into your skin as he slides his cock into you.

You mewl at the sensation, gummy walls stretching to their limit, your legs trembling as he fills you to the brim. You gasp softly when the tip presses against your cervix and then some. You clench your hands around the bed sheets, your eyes shut tight.

“Fuck,” Miguel groans, his eyes locked on your cunt and how his entire cock has sunk deep into you with so much ease. “Oh, princesa, you've no idea how much I've wanted this.”

You whimper in response, not really able to say or do anything else.

His thrusts start out slow, measuring how much you can take while giving you time to adjust to his size. But soon, when he feels you're wet enough and you're rolling your hips against his in a desperate plea for more, he starts going faster, harder.

Your entire body quivers with each thrust, the breath leaving your lungs accompanied by little whimpers. Your eyes roll into the back of your head as he fucks you, and you're absolutely certain that you are going to pass out from the ecstasy.

“Princesa,” Miguel grunts, “I wanna try something else with you. May I?”

You nod, moaning out a squeaky, “Yeah,” as he keeps going.

He smirks, one of his hands leaving your hip to grab your hair and tug it hard, forcing your back to arch even more. He leans down to you, his chest against your back. You feel his lips on your shoulder, slowly trailing up to your neck, and then his teeth graze over your skin.

His sharp, sharp canines, send shivers down your spine. You shudder out a breath as he slightly bites you, the tip of his teeth digging into your skin.

He bites down a little harder, the pressure gradually increasing until his teeth sink into your flesh. You shudder, crying out as a shock of pain slices through you.

Miguel groans as blood starts flowing from you, its taste invading his senses. He licks your blood, reveling in the taste, and then he kisses the small wound he's inflicted.

You whimper, the pain adding to the pleasure and making your body shiver. You can feel the bliss within you growing into an unbearable entity within your womb, and you can't take it anymore.

“Miguel!” you whine, eyes fluttering shut, stars dancing behind your eyelids. “Miguel! I-I can't—! Fuck!”

“Shh,” he coos. “It's okay, princesa. Respira.” Breathe. “You're almost there.”

You cry out, biting down on the duvet to keep yourself quiet. Still, your little sounds echo in the room, growing louder as you reach your release.

Your orgasm tears through you, destroying whatever little was left of your composure. You shudder violently, body falling limp against the bed.

Miguel gasps as your cunt tightens around him, your arousal gushing out onto his cock. He keeps his hands on your hips, holding you up as your legs falter and give.

He thrusts into you a couple more times and then he comes, spurting his load deep into your pussy. You mewl weakly at the sensation, truly fucked dumb, and you can't do anything but feel him fill you up.

He grunts softly, grinding his hips against yours lightly before pulling out.

The two of you stay there for a moment, breathing heavily, bodies shaking from the shared effort. And then Miguel's quickly taking care of you.

He helps you onto your bed, laying you down gently and pushing your hair out of your face. He cleans you up with a towel, gathering your combined release with the soft material before tossing it in the laundry basket. He helps you into his shirt and he slides a pair of clean panties onto you.

Then, he lies beside you, his fingers tracing your skin, his eyes stuck on the way his shirt is too big for you because he's huge.

You cuddle up against him, your nose nuzzling into his chest. He smiles softly. “Am I forgiven, princesa?” he asks quietly, caressing your jaw.

You smile up at him, sleepily and pleased. “Yes. You absolutely are.”

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Blog masterlist

[izels-writing]

s. black — how you get the girl [1/2]

*idea was given to me by @sunny-prongs !! <3

Pairing: sirius black x fem!reader

Summary: sirius has no idea how to get the girl this time.

Warnings: i actually suck at writing flirting, slightly ooc sirius?, i accidentally keep making all these gryffindor!readers so i apologize,

PART ONE, PART TWO

you weren't quite sure someone had made you feel so many emotions at once the way sirius black did. even when he'd enter the room, the ínstense emotions you'd experience being in his general vicinity was absolutely mind-boggling. not that you'd ever admit it.

sirius black was the one boy at school that everyone wanted, even if they didn't admit it. he was funny, he was unbelievably handsome, and he was admittedly smarter than he gave himself credit for. and dear god, did he know it...

the boy didn't exactly lack confidence—matter of fact, he may have too much of it. but that didn't matter, because everyone believed that yes, he deserved that confidence in himself. he earned it. he could breathe in someone's direction and they're instantly melt—he was inconceivably charismatic and likeable. even the professors admitted it so.

yet, the only person who didn't seem to think so was you.

not because you desired to be different from everyone else—because, unfortunately, you found him handsome as well and you found yourself day dreaming what it would be like to be loved by him. but because you saw the way he treated the girls he had flings with. you saw the way he'd be so indifferent to their attachment and infatuation with him. more noticeably, you noticed the way he never bothered to keep a consistent relationship with any girl he managed to seduce—if that was even the right word for it.

you didn't want that. you had seen so much of it growing up. you couldn't bare it in a potential romantic partner. so, you didn't. you didn't allow him to see the way you found yourself glancing at him, you didn't allow him to see the way you'd quickly walk away when he did something gentlemanly like hold the door for you, and you certainly didn't let yourself react to his many compliments.

and unfortunately for you, though you didn't know it, you were the one person he wanted that he couldn't have. not for lack of trying, but because you wouldn't allow yourself.

he watched you from afar, mischievous grey eyes following your every move—in a curious, desirable way. nonetheless, you looked at him for a split second before turning to resume your conversation with daniel mckinnon, marlene's older brother.

"anyway, you should talk to her, i'm sure she'll understand," you told daniel. he chuckled and sighed.

"i suppose so, thanks y/n," daniel smiled. he went to say something else, but he glanced behind you and bid you a kind goodbye—all before walking off.

you were left confused, until you felt a presence by your ear, likely because of the loud music booming around you. it was difficult to hear in the common room which held a celebration for the gryffindor quidditch team.

"he's always been good at taking hints," a silky voice whispered in your ear. immediately recognizing it, you turned around and raised an eyebrow at the eldest black brother.

"yeah, he is—something you lack apparently," you replied, glaring at sirius challengingly.

sirius grinned. "oh come on, princess, you can't be that way with me. you look great, by the way, is that a new dress?"

you glanced down, smiling slightly at the fact that he noticed. then you came to your senses and rolled your eyes, "i bought it last week, thanks," you replied monotonously.

"of course, doll," he smiled. you rolled your eyes, but he never faltered. you supposed there was an admirable aspect to it.

you took a sip of your drink, before looking up at him. "what do you want, black?" you demanded.

sirius laughed. "what makes you think i want something? what if i just wanted to ask how you were doing?"

"but you don't," you corrected. "which raises the question, as per usual..."

"fine, how about you let me dance with you...and if things go well, let me take you on a date next weekend?" sirius suggested, brushing loose hair from your face behind your ear.

you had to admit to yourself, he made you incredibly nervous. he was suave and handsome, and just the perfect amount of flirty without being uncomfortable to be around. he had a thing with calling you pet names that normally you'd cringe at the mention of, but when he said it, they didn't sound so bad. and dear god, when he subtly touched you, you felt like melting into the ground. nonetheless, you knew this was just part of his strategy to sleep with you. you'd seen it with other girls he interacted it, perhaps not to the extent he did it with you, but he certainly did it. you had to keep reeling in your common sense.

"in your dreams, sirius," you scoffed. quickly, before the other part of you could take it back, you walked off and immersed yourself into the party.

sirius watched you walk away, smirking like he had actually gotten you to say yes.

——

you waited patiently for your friend marlene mckinnon to return from quidditch practice before heading up to your shared dorm. normally, you preferred to be in your own room and on your own bed—but marlene hated being alone in the common room, as she was easily scared despite the tough facade she put on in front of dorcas.

a quick patter of footsteps rushed over to you, before they finally sat beside you. the boy, who you quickly and unfortunately recognized, kicked his feet up on the coffee table and put an arm on the couch, so that it was almost around you. you sat back and turned to him, narrowing your eyes at him. sirius grinned happily at you.

“you’re like a lovesick puppy, you know that?” you scoffed, crossing your arms. you knew it was all an act, but you could help the feeling of happiness it gave you knowing that he only really showed you this type of attention.

“only you bring out this side of me, did you know that?” he attempted, but you rolled your eyes and looked away momentarily. unfortunately for you, you turned to look at him again and your (e/c) eyes met his grey ones. and dear god, they were easy to get lost in.

“where’s your boy band? usually you four are attached at the hip,” you asked, genuinely curious despite your nonchalant tone. he smiled at you before replying, counting off the three in his fingers.

“remus is doing his prefect duties, james has quidditch practice, and peter is on a date,” he replied. “leaving me, all on my lonesome…with you, of course,” his smile brightened the room and it seemed like he knew it.

“surely you have something interesting to do,” you commented, liking the fact that you could at the very least have a conversation with him.

“none as interesting as you,” he grinned.

you chuckled. “okay, that was smooth, i’ll give you that one,”

“what’re you doing down here anyway?” sirius then asked, looking curiously at the book in your lap. you closed it, finding that perhaps a genuine conversation with him was worth having even despite the flirtations.

“waiting for marls, she hates coming into an empty common room,” you replied. “creeps her out,”

he smiled. “you’re a good friend, you know that?”

you turned to him curtly, smiling back at him—genuinely smiling back him. “thank you,” you replied.

your faces were inches away from each other, if even, and you couldn’t help but feel the slight tension. you wanted to pull away, you really really did. at the very least, he hadn’t tried anything.

he brought a tattooed hand to your face, pushing a hair behind your ear. he almost leaned in—or maybe you were imagining it. but then, common sense kicked you in the head and you cleared your throat.

quickly, you stood up and gathered your things. every nonsensical part of you wanted to stay and see where it would lead, and the other logical part of you knew better than to be so naïve. sirius was only interested because you had been so difficult to get, after he got with you—you’d just be another girl to him. you and any other girl at this school did not deserve that.

“yeah, i can’t do this,” you mumbled. without another word, you rushed up to your dorm. in your wake, you left a confused, mildly hurt sirius black on the couch. he could still smell your perfume and your bright smile was burned into the back of his brain like a prayer.

and for a moment, he thought what it would be like if he actually got to kiss you.

——

“i don’t understand,” marlene mumbled, stroking your head as you laid on her lap. you were feeling very dejected and upset after the whole sirius situation. “if you like him, and he more than obviously seems to like you, what’s stopping you?”

you sat up, situating yourself to look at marlene with a dejected look. “the principle, marls! you’ve seen how he treats every other girl here, these are nice girls who he would be lucky to have as his girlfriend! how do we know he won’t treat me the same? how do we know he actually likes me the way i like him?”

marlene sighed. “yeah, you have a point—i just hate seeing you so conflicted and upset, boys are so dumb,” she shook her head. you laughed, nodding in agreement.

“what if i talk to james?” marlene suggested. “if there’s anyone who knows him better than himself, it’s james,”

you groaned. “but then he’ll know i have a crush on sirius! and then he’ll tell sirius, and then sirius’ll know i have a crush on him!”

“true,” marlene huffed. “straight relationships are impossible,”

you laughed, shoving marlene. “shut up,”

——

“pads, maybe you should actually sit down and tell her how you feel,” james said offhandedly as he tinkered with a music box that lily gave him to fix. the two had only been dating for a few months, if that, and already it seemed like they have been together forever—in a good way, of course.

sirius, who had dramatically sprawled himself on the bed, lifted his head up to look at james. “what?! are you crazy?!” he exclaimed.

remus scoffed. “what’s so crazy about that? james did it and now he and lily are great together,” he closed his book, looking at sirius and waiting for his response.

“because…those are real feelings! i mean i’d have to explain everything to her, how i feel around her, everything and i just…no, it’s too gross,” sirius sighed. “of course i like her, i’m in love with her actually! but i can’t just tell her!”

peter and remus exchanged a look before peter quipped up, “so you’re afraid of rejection and vulnerability and commitment?”

sirius looked up and glared at him. “what? nuh uh!”

“yuh huh,” peter replied.

“nuh uh!”

“yuh huh!”

“nuh uh!”

“yuh huh!”

“face it pads, you have issues with commitment, rejection, and being emotionally vulnerable,” james shrugged, continuing to tinker with the music box.

“james and peter are right, that’s why you’ve never had a girlfriend—well, that and you’ve been in love with y/n since our second year,” remus added, raising an eyebrow at sirius.

“shut up,” sirius grumbled.

“you’re going to have to get over that if you want to be with her, marlene’s told me why she won’t go out with you—and frankly i don’t blame y/n,” james said.

sirius scrambled up from his bed, practically jumping onto james’ to sit in front of him. “they talk about me? what did y/n say? what did she exactly say?”

james shook his head. “you’re going to have to figure it out for yourself, i won’t betray marlene’s trust,”

“prongs, please! you’re my only hope!” sirius exclaimed.

“no, marlene told me in confidence,” james replied. “ask her yourself,”

sirius grumbled. “fine…”

“you are the most dramatic person i’ve ever met,” remus chuckled, “and mary once cried over breaking her nail, granted it had taken her a long time to grow out—“

sirius glared at remus, making the werewolf quickly shut his mouth.

[unfortunately-obsessed]

My Love Will Never Die

Pairing: Bruce Wayne x fem!reader. Tags: emotional hurt/comfort, burnout, established relationship. Title based off a Hozier's song. Ao3 link.

Summary:

« You've done me wrong for a long, long time. But after all you've done, I never changed my mind. »

Behind you, you wonder if the chauffer it is still there, standing. You know he is, the manners making him wait until you enter the house to only then pull the car to the garage. Watching you frozen in place, bag lazily held in a hand, umbrella in another. Hair disheveled, clothes unruly. You wonder if you look pathetic on his eyes, just as much as you feel currently.

The truth is: you are utterly destroyed.

Not only mentally. Your muscles ache, pain spiking up on your lower back worse than any damage a sharpened knife could cause. Feet so thoroughly hurt by heels they're numb, if not for the casual sharp sting.

It is Gotham. The sky is grey, the city sucks up you out of life each passing moment.

Rain splatters against your umbrella. You stand just before the front door of Wayne Manor, mindlessly fidgeting with the wedding ring sitting pretty on your finger.

One year. You've been married with Bruce Wayne for one year already? Doesn't feel like it.

Time flew before your eyes, the start of it all just below your eyelids. Every first so toothachingly sweet, burned into your brain. Press nails against skin until it sharpens.

Behind you, you wonder if the chauffer it is still there, standing. You know he is, the manners making him wait until you enter the house to only then pull the car to the garage. Watching you frozen in place, bag lazily held in a hand, umbrella in another. Hair disheveled, clothes unruly.

You wonder if you look pathetic on his eyes, just as much as you feel currently.

Not worthy of the surname Wayne, to be called “lady of the house”.

Time is a cruel kind of lesson.

"Ms. Wayne." Alfred's voice, invariably courteous, calls. You almost wince at the door opening. He stands before you, maybe a little unnerved by your state, but if it's displeasure or worry on his face, you can't tell.

He masks terrifically well. You're always alarmed by this.

"Are you alright, ma'am?"

At that, you do wince.

"Yes, Alfred." Your brain haven't even processed his presence yet when you walk past him. He takes your coat and bag. "Just got lost in thoughts for a moment."

"Pondering the mysteries of our universe at the front step?" Ah, you do love the edge of sass in his voice. You meet his eyes, a shy-like (unlike you) smile cursing your face. "Shall I fetch for tea? Supper will be served in one hour's time."

Some months ago, you might have looked forward for it. If Bruce couldn't welcome you after work, he at least would make sure to eat dinner with you.

Deep in your stomach, rot. You swallow dry.

"No, thanks," you say, taking a deep breath. Desperately– desperately talking through the knot in your throat. "I just want to hit the showers and sleep," you say, all sincerity.

You smile politely. He doesn't pushes you.

It is easy to backslide. To make oneself likeable, less volatile, more agreeable. Until you can earn love and care.

(Oh. It's getting bad again.)

"And Bruce?" You ask halfway through up the stairs, despite yourself. My love for you is bigger than words. I search for you everywhere.

The silence that hangs would be enough of an answer. Alfred is merciful, though. "Still working, ma'am."

Isn't it painful? Loving someone just from outside their life?

Wayne Manor is a haunted house. Constantly burning, touching the skies with horrible black smoke. Sculpted coffered ceilings, furniture of expensive dark wood. Bristol, yet you can see the city and all its skyscrapers by the right window.

Wayne Manor, aka Bruce Wayne's first grave.

Every corner, a memory.

"Of course," you mutter to yourself, emotion pooling in the eyes.

Love is about the failure of language, so you fall silent and disappear into the halls.

~*~*~

The sheets are clean like you know they would be.

Heels are the first to go. You kick them off, grumbling in satisfaction. Earrings next, then lipstick messily scrubbed off in any sheet of paper.

Hairpin and belt lost to the ground. Bra? Disappeared.

Yet, despite being absolutely exhausted, you stop just before the bed. Ice at the nape of your neck like a garrote, a promise. Knot in your throat to hang on.

King-sized, silk sheets, cloud soft. Each breath is a stutter of a muscle, the blood running in your veins a statement that you are, in fact, alive.

Isn't it such a lousy fear? The fear to sleep and have yet another nightmare. Oh, to be worn out mind and body and still unable to touch a bed.

The sheets are clean, white-pure. Sours you mouth.

Messy and childish fear. To see the future, where he dies by your feet using the damned cowl. Feats unnamed, life unhonoured.

Death smiles to Batman.

(Ah, Bruce. I would break my own fingers for you. Tear the tongue out of my mouth.

But there are limits.)

You can't even remember half those nightmares. Hands shaking, clattered flesh, de-boned corpses–

You don't want to ruin the sheets. You don't want to ruin your life.

~*~*~

It might be 5am.

He nuzzles against your neck, breath hot and exhausted, chest to your back. Skin painted with purple and red, scar-tissue mapping constellations, saying eat.

Eat you do. Bite one step removed, soft-mouthed kissing blue veins and rough hands. Until you lips become raw and numb.

His weight sinks the mattress, acting like a gravitational pull. Bruce's body, which furnaces can't compare, protectively embraces you.

He's so warm. It's 5am and you both are lying together, legs intertwined, his face buried on your shoulder. You listen to his breathing, slow and controlled, in the comforting quiet of unrealized-hours.

I wish the past had been kinder on you. How the world is cruel and how you refuse to be.

Soft sunlight hums through the damasked curtains, birds start to sing. You are wide awake, and he is too.

You'd seen him die down in your mind, every night. He lives your nightmares, putting on the suit. You're not bound to him by fate, not a soulmate, with no divine intervention; hallowed by gums aching and reverence– that is to say: the door is open, you can walk away.

Because one day, he won't come back.

You know it. He knows it. He has the arrangements prepared for the occasion.

And nowadays, he can't afford to leave the cave if not for going downtown.

The life of a hero is very unthankful.

"Do you hate me?" he asks you, voice rough to be an knife's edge. It's been long enough since you last felt him this close, low in your ear.

Bruce assures you through touch. Calloused thumb rubbing your wrist. Affections ebbs in his palms, love even. A work in progress.

In all your inner turmoil, you can see yourself getting quite tired of it all. The late nights crawling up walls, knowing he won't come back until morning– the stitching of wounds, his blood in the Persian rugs– but to imagine oneself as his enemy? As in, hating him?

"No," you murmur in a steady heartbeat. A detour cross your mind, of eustress: he gets tired too. And, then you say for good measure, "Never."

People don't really think how tiring tragic the life of a hero is. But there's this exhilarating moment where all that exists is Bruce's breath in your skin.

"Do you love me?" he asks because he can't take any chances. Oh, you can bet a kid that grew up traumatized will need reassurance. Constant, gentle reassurance.

White stripes of scars in his knuckles and forearms below your fingertips, drawing into your memory again and again.

The truth is: you are utterly destroyed.

Not only physically. But he tugs with your heartstrings everyday, bruised like he'd been squeezing it. The more it lingers more you realize you've been packing up emotions for weeks, now.

"What a silly thing to ask," you say. Not an answer. Neither are breathing for a second, there. You teeth clatter like a damn trying to bust.

Ah! There's a lot of messed up stuff happening all the time. You coil in yourself, perhaps considering. Bruce's touch shudders.

And there is something to realize. You'd rather die drowning for love than in thirst of it. Repeat to yourself, to him, I will never leave you. In healthiness and sickness–

"On purpose. Always–"

Love, who is brutal, who is stored in the viscera–

"–I love you."

A/N: If you like what I do, please consider supporting me and buying a coffee!

[blossomthepinkbunny]

Sinsmas made Stolas much worse

Sinsmas was probably the worst episode they could´ve done for Stolas as a character. He was always fighting an uphill battle to begin with because narrative wise, his character is the perfect villian/antagonist for HB.

It´s a show about a group of hellborns who run a gruesome business who, due to their low class in hells society, also face discrimination and are constantly undermined. Now what would the possibly best antagonist for such a show be? Probably a rich, royal demon who didn´t have to work for his wealth, who uses his high status to hold the object that the imps need over their heads, to get what he wants out of them. That´s Stolas. Or atleast that´s how Stolas functioned in the Pilot and the first episode. This changed a bit since episode 2 and then in "Ozzie´s", the different direction they wanted to take his character became apparent. Ever since then we got a mix of rewriting what we thought was happening to make Stolas more sympathetic and trying to force a newer personality into a mold shaped by the general narrative, which didn´t really fit at all.

And then Sinsmas happened as the season two finale and made it so so much worse. I just want to ignore all the other bad things about Stolas (like his relationship with Octavia, the show not really holding him accountable etc.) and for now focus on his absolutely ruined character arc. His whole motivation for doing anything in s2, was to convince Blitz that he isn´t what Blitz always assumed of him. I mentioned his role in the narrative before and I just want to say, that I do know that subverting the narrative has sort of become a main character motivation for Stolas. He doesn´t want to be seen as this pampered, ungrateful prince that Blitz sees him as. But he is just that.

Stolas loses his powers and status and goes to live with Blitz and his group. Someone he thought he was going to die for. One could assume that with all of this, Stolas would try and be on his best behaviour. That he would do everything in his power to help, support, love Blitz and mainly, to show him that he isn´t the spoilled asshole Blitz once saw him as. But he doesn´t do that. He behaves exactly how Blitz would have probably assumed him to be in s1. That´s a whole season worth of character development just skipped. Blitz makes him breakfast and he insults it to his face and then whines about how perfect his old life was. He looks this guy, who had to face being a lower class citizen his entire life (who he is supposed to love and has spent an entire season convincing, that he is different and not what he´s expecting) in the face and tells him practically "Oh no, being poor sucks, your place sucks, your food sucks, and your holidays suck too. I wish I was rich again, then I wouldn´t have to deal with all of this poor people bs".

And I know, that he was very in shambles after losing his status, powers and daughter, but he never once considers how Blitz was very close to actually being killed and is now basically letting him live there, which probably isn´t going to help their bank account. He is exactly what he wanted to convince Blitz he wasn´t. One could also be more cynical and assume that he pretty much has everything he ever wanted now, with Blitz feeling a little responsible for what happened, so he has no reason to be nice anymore, since he now knows he´ll get away with it. This episode just made him less likeable somehow, something I didn´t think was so easily possible.

And it didn´t even have to happen like this. Why couldn´t Stolas have just been trying to push everything down to try and fully care for Blitz. It would´ve actually been a pretty sympathetic character trait if he tried to ignore everything going on to support the person he supposedly loves. But that doesn´t happen and Stolas is just less and less likeable the longer the show goes on (which I always assumed was the opposite of what HB wanted to accomplish, esp with Stolas, but oh well).

It really sucks, because it feels like all of the emotional rollercoaster moments we had to endure over the course of s2 (a season that was really bad) were for nothing. Oh, not for nothing I guess. Just for Blitz to also completely change character all of a sudden and just be completely fine with being diminished like that and Stolas basically insulting him to his face. How nice that the one character mainly defined by not wanting to be tied down is now subservient to the guy who harrased him for a while. Really cool.

Also I just realized that Tumblr has a charater limit now for posts. That is really pissing me off. I love talking and now I have to constantly make sure I don´t exceed the word count.

[elbiotipo]

Since we are already in the "old nerd complaining about star wars" mode, Kylo Ren always just sucked as a character. Not only in the fandom mode that he's a terrible ship with Rey, he's evil and such, but as a character, as a villain. He resembles NOTHING AT ALL to either Han or Leia, physically, personality, attitude or mannerisms, NOTHING so there is no connection. He doesn't work as an isolated villain either, he just doesn't have presence like Vader or is sinister like Palpatine, even Dooku and Grevious are better. And he isn't that likeable to justify a redemption arc, they tried to make a pseudo-Zuko (maybe) but it just doesn't work. He just fails as a villain for me. I guess some people like the emo tortured soul kind of thing but to me he doesn't work. I was going to say he's just generic, but Star Wars is generic that's kind of the appeal. He simply isn't that compelling.

I actually had a character interpretation for Kylo that he's a bit of the insecurities of the sequels themselves made manifest. He knows that he can't be Darth Vader or live up to him, and that fills him with frustration and rage. Similarily, the sequels know they can't fill the role of the original movies and that's reflected on Kylo. It would actually had been fun and intersting to lean into that, he could never live up to being Darth Vader he's not a threat and he eventually realizes it and decides to be something else, and maybe you could set up the sort of arc where he gets put aside for greater threats.

But he feels just terrible as a villain. He has no connection with Leia, Han or Luke no matter how much the movie tells you, IT'S NOT THERE, it's like they inserted A Guy from a vampire movie and gave him a lightsaber. I can't shake the feeling that he just doesn't fit. And not in a good "ooohh he's misunderstood he doesn't fit" he just doesn't, he's not in the same movies I saw. Not even the name "Ben" makes sense (that's for Luke's son, not Han's and Leia). He's just a bad character.

Kylo sucks so much I don't know what to tell you.

[awardenandacrow]

FANFIC SNIPPET 24

Inspired by this post:

[Naimeryn & Lucanis get in a fight]

CW/TW: brief suggestive content, self abuse

——————————————————————————

Naimeryn felt Lucanis’s fingers at the hem of her shirt, brushing her skin, seeking permission. She nodded without breaking the kiss, her own hands sliding through his hair. His palm slid under stiff fabric, scorching a path across her side that made her gasp. She shivered at the warmth of his skin against her ribs, even as a tremor of nerves stirred in her stomach. There was no longer pain when her marred flesh was touched, but it was twisted and gnarled and… surely a turn off? But if it were, he gave no indication, his fingers flexing against her side and… Creators, but he *sighed*.

She pulled her hands down along his neck, to the front of his shirt, running them down his chest. Her index finger caught the button at his collar, inadvertently undoing it. He sucked in a seething breath and started to pull away. Panic overtook her, and she grabbed his shirt on instinct alone.

“I’m sorry,” she gasped. “We can stop if you want! Just please don’t run away again.”

Naimeryn realized how selfish and inconsiderate that sounded. If he wasn’t ready, he wasn’t ready. And if he needed to step away, she needed to respect that, too. She quickly turned her head away, putting her left side to him so she couldn’t see what expression he wore. She couldn’t bear it. She released him.

“I mean — no, I’m sorry. Of course you can go if you want to. I won’t… I can’t *make* you stay. I’m sorry.”

His hand hadn’t moved from her side, she realized. His other hand cupped her face tentatively, applying gentle pressure for her to turn back towards him.

“Forgive me?” He said earnestly, peering into her eyes. “This is all just… *new*. For me.”

She nodded. “I know. Me too.”

He stroked his thumb across her cheekbone.

“Have I ever told you how beautiful you are?”

Naimeryn’s heart thudded to a stop. There was a tiny flicker of elation, of hope, of… giddiness.

Don’t be *stupid*, Naimeryn, she told herself. She knew what she looked like. The ugly one. The stepping stone. The gateway. The one you compliment to get to her pretty friend. Her mouth went dry, her stomach twisting into knots. Her forehead was too big, her nose too beak-like, her chest too small. Her skin was covered in scars, chasms of ruin marring an otherwise smooth surface. She was half blind and half deaf. She was clumsy. Awkward.

*An incompetent mage.*

It was a roar in her ear. A hurricane of truths she had accepted long ago.

“Did I say something wrong?” Lucanis’s expression shifted to one of concern. Her heart ached. He looked so… sincere. His hand still on the ugliest scar of all. Fingers flexing lightly, gripping tentatively. She couldn’t think straight. Why would he say something so… patently *false*?

“I just… “ she ducked away from him. He let her go, his confusion clear. She grasped for what to say, her heart pounding in her ears. “I just never expected empty flattery from *you.*”

She sucked in a breath. She would not cry.

“I don’t understand,” Lucanis began.

“I’m not *stupid*, Lucanis,” Naimeryn snapped, spinning to face him even with the tears threatening in earnest. “I’m likeable enough, sure. I have… I have *likeable* qualities. But *beautiful*? I grew to expect that nonsense from Illario, but *you*?”

“Nonsense?” He demanded, his frustration seeming to grow. *He* was frustrated with *her*?!

“You don’t need to lie to me to get… whatever this is!” Naimeryn snapped. She knew that was unworthy of her. She *knew* Lucanis was not simply trying to get in her pants. His hesitation was what had gotten them there in the first place.

But then *why* say that? Why say something so blatantly untrue? Why even *tease* her that way?

Maybe his hesitation *isn’t* inexperience, the nasty voice cackled in the back of her head. Maybe you really are just a stepping stone… again.

*They always think better of it before it goes too far.*

No. She could not believe that. That couldn’t be it.

Lucanis stood stalk still, staring at her with an unreadable expression.

“I am a lot of things, *Rook*, but you should know *liar* is not one of them,” he said quietly. “I *am* sorry that I upset you, but I do not understand where this is coming from.”

“I’m sorry too,” Naimeryn said, furious that her voice trembled the way it did. “I think you should go. I’m not myself right now.”

From please don’t leave to get out in under a minute. That had to be a record, somewhere. She hated it. But she couldn’t make sense of what had just happened, or why. She couldn’t think, not with him standing there, those big brown eyes staring at her, their usual softness gone. She’d hurt him, too. How had they gotten here?

After a moment, he nodded, then turned and left without another word. Once he was gone, she allowed the weight of it to press down on her, to pull the tears from her eyes. She caught herself on the console table to keep from simply collapsing to the floor, and her hand bumped Varric’s shaving mirror. She glanced over, and caught her reflection. Red eyes, and — she didn’t want to see the rest. She’d been meaning to give it back to him anyway.

She snatched the mirror off the table and walked quickly out of her room, around the corner, and up the hallway to the infirmary. She meant to storm in and smack it down on the table next to Varric, but he was sleeping. She grabbed the door before it banged against the wall. She just wanted the damn thing out of her room. She didn’t need to bother him with this. She placed it on the table just inside the door, then turned and left again as quietly as she was able.

As Naimeryn came back to the end of the hallway, she could hear Taash lifting weights. She strained her ear for a moment, but it didn’t sound like Harding was with them. A distraction. That could work.

She sniffled and wiped her eyes, heading into the storage room. Taash looked up from their spot on a crate, where they’d been curling a large weight with one arm. They took one look and dropped the weight.

“Wanna go punch something?”

Naimeryn shook her head. “I thought… if it’s all right… I’d join you.”

“Yeah,” Taash grinned and indicated their equipment. “I’m not gonna go easy on ya just because you’re upset, though.”

“That’s what I was hoping.”

…

Naimeryn collapsed, panting and sweating, waving her arms weakly at Taash. “I’m out. I tap!”

Taash’s chuckle was only slightly mocking. “I think this may have been your best workout yet! I’m proud of you.”

Naimeryn gave them a noncommittal groan. Taash crossed the room, and she heard them pouring two glasses of water. As their footsteps returned, she wheezed and sat up, with difficulty. Everything hurt.

“So,” Taash said, handing her the water and sitting next to her on the floor, “What’d he do this time?”

This time. As if they had a habit of fighting.

Well, not fighting. Misunderstanding one another. Missing one another. She sighed and took a slow draw. Feeling stupid, and not looking at Taash, she told a spot on the opposite wall,

“He said I’m *beautiful*.”

A beat of silence. Then, “Uh… okay. Sure?”

Naimeryn let out a frustrated sound and smacked her cup onto the floor next to her.

“Come on, Taash. I know what I look like,” she threw her hands up in defeat. “And I know what beautiful is. YOU’RE beautiful. *Neve* is beautiful. Harding, Bellara… but I mean. *Me*??”

Taash was quiet for a long time, and Naimeryn started to feel guilty. Taash didn’t like to talk about “the emotional stuff.” And yet somehow, she always came to them with… all of her emotional stuff. She sighed and flopped back into a prone position, staring at the ceiling with her forearm covering her forehead. She opened her mouth to apologize, to tell them to just forget it, but as she did so, Taash twisted their upper body towards her, placing their hand on the floor near her head to brace as they leaned over to peer down at her.

“So… lemme ask you something.”

“Okay?”

“Paper lanterns are really pretty, right?”

“I think so,” Naimeryn nodded, thinking of the ones she’d seen twinkling in the sky over the mountains a few nights at Weisshaupt. She still didn’t know what they’d been released for, but they’d taken her breath away when she’d seen them out her window, especially the first time.

“And flowers, yeah, they’re pretty?”

“Right…?” Naimeryn said slowly.

“And those things don’t look anything like each other,” Taash said it more like a question than a statement.

“Where are you going with this, Taash?” Naimeryn sighed, squinting up at them.

“I’m just sayin’,” Taash shrugged. “Neve *is* beautiful. She’s got pretty dresses. And that whole dark, sultry thing going on. And Lace… Lace is *really* beautiful. But she looks nothing like Neve. She’s short, and has freckles everywhere. I mean, *everywhere.*”

“Taash,” Naimeryn said apprehensively.

“Oh *relax.* I’m just sayin’, you think everyone is beautiful *but* you. And your whole life, everyone told you you weren’t enough like a flower, and so you told yourself that because you’re not a flower, you can’t possibly be pretty, right?”

Naimeryn nodded slowly, turning their words over in her head.

“But what if *Lucanis* isn’t really into flowers? What if he likes paper lanterns?”

Naimeryn’s mouth went dry, and she removed her damp eyes from Taash’s face. Her chest was tight. She wanted so badly to believe it.

“I… I don’t know…”

Taash’s hand patted her on the shoulder, then gripped it to help her pull herself off the floor.

“Maybe instead of getting mad at him, you should ask him,” Taash said gently. “Because as someone on the outside… he’s *really* into you. If he said it… I really think he meant it.”

Naimeryn nodded to the floor, unable to speak around the knot in her throat. Could… could Taash be right? Could she really be, not pretty like a flower, but pretty like… a paper lantern?

[zydratearchives]

scrolling through the repo! tag and seeing the way people interpret the largos as if they're in any way sympathetic or likeable is such a baffling example of how dead media literacy is.

like in multiple interviews, terrance zdunich and darren smith talk about how the largos are supposed to be so comically unlikeable that even a man as reprehensible of a person as rotti largo detests them. the joke is that the world of repo! is so horrible and dystopian that the comic relief are, in terrance zdunich's words, "a murderer and a rapist".

no, the largos would not go on to denounce their father and turn geneco into a benevolant company that changes sanitarium into a utopia of opportunity and life. like that would NOT happen, luigi is aggressive and power-hungry, pavi is as power-hungry as it gets considering he's a literal rapist who wears dead people's faces and amber is a spoilt womanchild who whines and moans and will do even the most degrading and dangerous stuff to get her way (fucking graverobber for drugs so she can keep getting obscene amounts of surgery). amber is slightly more sympathetic and she is meant to be, she's taken far more seriously than luigi and pavi but she's still a terrible person who intimidates and assaults people (Z'd up shouting at shilo, groping luigi's balls and licking his face, throwing tokens at graverobber, just to name a few)

"b-but it says geneco becomes committed to change!" that's something we like to call in the movie world a "joke". the change they're committed to is absolutely not going to be good - it's ran by a fashion surgery & drug addict, do you genuinely think amber sweet, after having absolutely zero character development and being humiliated and booed offstage, would genuinely want to make geneco, the company she didn't even want, a better/more ethical business?

the largos suck. that's sort of the whole point. you can like them without endorsing their actions, literally every single person in repo! has done something terrible except shilo and that's the point. the whole point is, in this world, the only good person is a girl who was kept trapped in her bedroom her whole life and never exposed to the cruel outside world.

but obviously enjoy what you want, this has been a weird misreading of characters since the fandom originated in late 2008, like i know it's always been here and it's not going away soon. it was just bugging me and this is my repo account so i wanted to share my thoughts lmfao

[ohnoitstbskyen]

one piece live action thoughts?

It looks very much like a live action adaptation of One Piece. For better, and very much also for worse.

I mean this in the sense that it's adapted to fit a form that helps it make sense 1) in live action and 2) to a general audience which isn't intimately familiar with manga or anime, and which a broadcaster or streaming service would want to reach.

Luffy especially, at least going by the relatively tiny snippet we have seen so far, seems to have had some of his more peculiar edges sanded off to fit more comfortably into the mold of a typical young adult protagonist, which includes the... I guess what people call "marvel speak" now? The little funny quips and asides and ironic saying-the-obvious-thing-out-loud beats, which are more Americanisms than Marvel specific but I digress.

In One Piece, Luffy is most often not the point of view character, especially early on. Luffy is usually observed from outside by other characters - Koby serves this role in the early chapters, and from then on usually we see Luffy through his crew, or through whatever secondary characters they're interacting with in that particular arc.

People have observed this before, but in the manga, we essentially NEVER get any internal monologue from Luffy, he always either SAYS what he's thinking, or he runs on head empty no thoughts just vibes instinct and gut reaction.

And that... probably doesn't really work with a typical young adult protagonist. If adapted faithfully to screen, I think a lot of audiences would read him as just a reckless, inconsiderate and kinda heartless asshole, because a framing and presentation of Luffy that makes sense in a manga or anime just doesn't read the same in live action filmmaking.

Like, One Piece opens with Luffy recklessly sailing off to sea despite having no idea how to sail, getting sucked into a whirlpool and surviving on sheer dumb luck, getting picked up by some pirates in a barrel. Then he meets an abused child named Koby who has been getting the shit kicked out of him daily for months and immediately calls him a clumsy, stupid, cowardly worthless loser to his face and laughs at him.

Like, if you adapted that faithfully, how would that come across to a general audience? Imagine this scene staged in live-action, with human actors having to portray this conversation rather than stylized cartoon people. It simply wouldn't come across the same way, Luffy would come across as an It's Always Sunny character at best. Why would a general audience sympathize with him? Why would they find him compelling or worth investing emotionally in?

And I'm not saying there aren't ways to adapt One Piece faithfully into live action, there absolutely are (much like the manga, I would make everyone ELSE the point-of-view characters looking AT Luffy rather than try and present him as a Likeable Protagonist, for example).

My point is just that in any translation into live action, there are going to be concessions to the medium, there are going to be concessions to film language, concessions to audience expectations, concessions to the market conditions, concessions to the studio funding the filming, and so on. That's just the nature of the endeavour.

When it's done well, you get an adaptation that preserves the spirit of the thing while fitting its medium. Lord of the Rings comes to mind, an adaptation which changed huge amounts from its source material, but preserved the spirit.

When it's done poorly you get... well, Cowboy Bebop on Netflix.

I don't know from the tiny trailer snippet we've seen whether this show will preserve the spirit of One Piece, it very well may not, and end up another victim on the pile of bad anime adaptations. But I don't think the fact that it changed the vibe of the characters or Main Character'd Luffy alone are reasons to dismiss it, at least not yet. Those might have been necessary concessions for the show to work in live action at all. We shall see.

I'm not super optimistic or excited (because, again, I remember Cowboy Bebop), but I'm not despairing of it yet either.

[all-pacas]

ok i was trying to nap because i'm sick and i couldn't sleep and instead i was thinking about house medical doctor. and like. ok. chase is my special favorite, right? i want to punch him in his face, right?

-

I was thinking, though. It's easy to… smooth over and buff out characters to make them more appealing. To focus on traits and interpretations that you like. And to be clear I do think Chase has a lot of good qualities, both in terms of being a likeable character (he's clever! He doesn't take himself that seriously and isn't ego driven, unlike many others in the cast!) and being a fun character to watch (he's always pulling weird faces or being sarcastic!).

But he also has some real fucking character flaws, so let's talk about them. Because I want to. Because I don't like smoothing people out to fit a Narrative. I want to talk about his apathetic moral vacancy.

Like. Chase is apathetic. He truly and honestly doesn't give a shit about other people a lot of the time. He's not aggressive about it, he's not cruel — he tends to be fairly polite, although he's not great at hiding it ("the nurse's phone can take pictures!" "………cool"), he doesn't often talk shit. When he dislikes a patient, he at least tries to hide it (contrast with Foreman, who genuinely sucks at this). But that doesn't mean he cares. He is absolutely fine with lying to patients (Post Mortem), or with billing people for tests and not telling them (Safe). He doesn't care if that's shady. He's super ethically flexible, is the only one of the fellows to be openly pro euthanasia, has zero moral issue with treating Dibala. This clearly isn't because Chase believes so strongly that being a doctor should make you neutral to petty political beliefs, he just… doesn't care much. It doesn't bother him. I don't think he'd go out of his way to be harmful or cruel to someone, but he also isn't going out of his way to help them either.

While we do see him advocating for his patients and getting involved now and then (mostly with children), he never really has any moments where he takes a stand or fights for someone. Cameron, by contrast, does this constantly (The Itch, Acceptance, Fidelity…). Foreman also has several episodes (Fools For Love, Whac-A-Mole, a lot of his S3 development tbh) where he finds and bonds with and over-invests in a patient. The closest Chase ever comes to "getting way too involved in someone's life because he cares" is Moira in Chase, and she's preeeetty explicitly called out as him rebounding and acting out; he's doing the Wilson-Amber reinvent yourself after trauma thing, and it wears off pretty quickly. In Cameron and Foreman's cases too, it's more about their personal issues than the patient in question… but Chase's situation was really about him.

Speaking of being morally vacant! When Cameron might be infected with HIV (Hunting), he expresses some concern and House immediately mocks him for being fake. I don't actually know that it was (he certainly keeps up the thread of suggesting she should take some time off, he's not just being performative), but it's telling that the first reaction to Chase showing concern for anyone is "lol, who are you kidding?" Cameron accuses him later that of not being a good guy. She wants to get laid and live life on the edge, and the person that jumps to her mind when she wonders "who would be down for doing me on meth" is Chase. Nor is she wrong. Chase is an opportunist. Tritter calls him one, and Tritter is correct. He rats to Vogler to save his job, and is barely sorry for it; I'm not sure he ever apologizes. Everyone expects he'll immediately run to Tritter and a huge source of tension in Finding Judas is that Chase can't win: Foreman and Cameron already assume he has, that he's too spoiled and weak to not. Later in S3, when Cameron propositions him, he again goes "free sex?" and signs up, despite calling her out on what a demeaning offer she's making. He tends to pick the easier options. He stays a diagnostics fellow for years longer than anyone else, because it's a safe space. It's easy. He'd rather be a follower than take any risks. (I think there is no room for a reality where he refused his dad's money out of spite or pride. Why would he refuse a trust fund? It's easy. It's right there.)

We actually do see him lash out and stand up for himself here and there. He pushes back against Cameron a few times, actually (Act your Age, Saviors, Teamwork), and he's also pushed back against Foreman and House. But it's only for himself. I can't think of a time he went far out of his way to defend one of his coworkers, or his boss, or a patient. He did get mad enough to, uh, kill, when Dibala threatened Cameron. Which: fair enough? But he doesn't care much for things outside of his immediate influence. He has no problem shrugging off Cuddy in Living the Dream, or an armed gunman in Last Resort. He has no moral stances or political beliefs that we know of (besides, uh, fat people suck and the US immigration system is annoying). He very much does care about people, he's pretty clear that at least some of his apathy is a defense thing after a deeply fucked up childhood, but it's always despite himself. He prefers to do his job and go home. There's an old not-joke about how all surgeons have god complexes. Chase being a surgeon is kind of a retcon, and in a lot of ways he doesn't fit the stereotype — he's not particularly arrogant or superior, he's not even ambitious. He does get touchy about being called wrong, or accused of making mistakes, but I don't think he's any worse than the others on that front (or more prone to making mistakes). But that indifference? His sort of general aloofness? He cares about himself, and his little circle, and watches his own back, and that's it. He doesn't dislike other people, but he doesn't care much either way. Foreman accuses him of being fake. Everyone accuses him of being morally vacant, an opportunist who will do anything if it improves his own situation. And… yeah. Kinda.

[therese-lokidottir]

I'm sorry but I'm convinced that the people who keep saying that Loki is finally happy and healed never, NEVER liked Loki to begin with, let alone loved him. And I'm sorry but the people who keep going on and on about what a good, sweet, gentle soft boy he is now, NEVER liked him and never understood him to begin with. If a character has to be CHANGED COMPLETLEY in order for you to consider them likeable and agreeable and consumable, well then that's what you really wanted, not Loki.

There's a certain section of this fandom that absolutely *LOVES* seeing Loki get kicked when he's down. No pain, no punishment could ever be enough. Tear him down, build him back up, roll him over and do it again. Spit, kick, beat, punch and then do it again and again. Tear him down and build him up, the way you think he should be, then tear him down until there's absolutely no Loki left, only the good soft sweet submissive gentle good boy. Still, it's not enough. He hasn’t cried and begged nearly enough. He has to die a thousand deaths or choose whatever miserable fate that you'll be most satisfied with. Is it finally enough now? That he is everything he never wanted to be? Trapped, alone, exiled, sitting on some mock throne, watching in tears as everyone he cares about gets on with their lives, way, way, way beyond his reach? Why would anyone who loves Loki ever want this?? Someone please explain to me why we are supposed to want this!!

I'm sorry but it just makes me heartsick. The MCU always used to refer to Loki as “the character you love to hate and hate to love” – they used to chant it like a mantra, because that’s how they wanted it, that’s how they wanted us to feel about him. And there are Loki “fans” that feel this way exactly, and this is the only part of the fandom that the MCU is willing to pay attention to. And I’m convinced that this is who the show was made for.

That show is a Loki hate-fest. They rip him apart, strip all the complex, nuanced layers away, hollow him out like a jack-o-lantern, scooping away all that deep, pithy goodness that made him fun, relatable, and interesting. All the magic and power, all the things that made him unique and wild and dangerous. And then they declared the most rotten, terrible things over him, humiliated and made sport of him, and made suffering and misery his lot. There is nothing soft or gentle or sweet or good or loving about what they did to him, and I'm sorry but I'm not going to stand up and give a round of applause that my favorite character of all time is in eternal misery!

Right!?

You know the thing that will always get to me, is the trailer for season one. Because clearly the trailer was cut to make Loki look cool and conniving and strong, but then the series comes out and every scene from trailer is like "ha, ha no! Loki sucks actually, look how lame he is"

The show isn't about him, it's about using him as a stepping stool for other characters

[wsancho]

𝙳𝚘 𝚞 𝚑𝚊𝚟𝚎 𝚊𝚗𝚢 𝚑𝚎𝚊𝚍 𝚌𝚊𝚗𝚗𝚘𝚗𝚜/𝚋𝚛𝚊𝚒𝚗 𝚍𝚞𝚖𝚙𝚜 𝚏𝚘𝚛 𝙺𝚎𝚏𝚔𝚊 (𝙵𝙵𝚅𝙸) ? 𝙸𝚝'𝚜 𝚘𝚔 𝚒𝚏 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚍𝚘𝚗'𝚝 𝚘𝚛 𝚓𝚞𝚜𝚝 𝚍𝚘𝚗'𝚝 𝚠𝚊𝚗𝚝 𝚝𝚘 𝚜𝚊𝚢 𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚖.

𝙸 𝚓𝚞𝚜𝚝 𝚠𝚊𝚜 𝚌𝚞𝚛𝚒𝚘𝚞𝚜 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝙸 𝚕𝚘𝚟𝚎 𝚛𝚎𝚊𝚍𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚊𝚋𝚘𝚞𝚝 𝚞𝚛 𝚑𝚎𝚊𝚍 𝚌𝚊𝚗𝚗𝚘𝚗𝚜/𝚋𝚛𝚊𝚒𝚗 𝚍𝚞𝚖𝚙𝚜. 𝚃𝚑𝚎𝚛𝚎'𝚜 𝚜𝚘 𝚖𝚞𝚌𝚑 𝚝𝚑𝚘𝚞𝚐𝚑𝚝 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚍𝚎𝚝𝚊𝚒𝚕 𝚝𝚘 𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚖!

𝚂𝚘𝚛𝚛𝚢 𝚏𝚘𝚛 𝚊𝚜𝚔𝚒𝚗𝚐 😅

Thanks for reading! And for asking 😌 I love talking FF6 all day, any day ❤️ My lazy ass only does wilful deep thinking about the twins. Ideas about other characters are more of a side-effect of talking this stuff with other enthusiasts 😁 I lean towards a Kefka who is pathetic in mind and body. Being a weakling makes his military career questionable, so he could be of aristocratic origin, with no real combat experience; or like Hitler, just a lackluster guy who got recruited because his country needed all the men they could get. I think he's petty but machiavellian, acting shitty whenever he can get away with it, but disciplined and smart enough to keep a facade that would get him closer to his goals. He has no respect for others, meaning he also has no self-respect, so he's very willing to entirely lose his dignity for the sake of his goals.

A hunger for power stems from deep feelings of disempowerment, so whatever advantages he had were never enough, he could not afford letting others be in charge. Now, EVERYONE and their mom and their cats and their dogs, etc, etc happen to have some sad story, which could very well be the case for him. But I've seen evil surfacing in people who refuse to take ownership of their experience (no matter how hard/unfair or how easy/fair). So for this guy there's always somebody else to blame and to look down on, because in his head, he doesn't suck, it's existence that sucks. And being such a pathetic-looking guy who's not even likeable would cause the people around him to talk shit behind his back, bully him, mock him, etc.

Vector does have a cult of personality, so there must be harsh judgment towards the common folk. Also the empire and other nations under the imperial boot are ridden with misery, inequality and social issues. Kefka comes from an environment where the only worthwhile position is the very top.

That's all I got for now 🙂

[philtstone]

half wordless, half in elven-tongue

Summary: There is something very practical about Arwen’s ancient and much-powerful grandmother (for an Elf, anyway) that Arwen admires, for she herself has sometimes found it difficult to achieve practicality. Estel, Man though he is, appreciates her fancies very much. He and his poet’s soul. She has spent the last twenty years sharing them with him in her letters, and every response (growing fewer and fewer until these last six months they stopped entirely) has him writing back like one offered water in the desert.

Arwen does not mind; it is not as though she herself has much more sense, climbing into bed with him as she does.

huge shoutout to @firstelevens for reading thru this and telling me it didn't suck despite not really going here. also, a secondary shoutout to @btwxsixesandsevens for gong here even less but inadvertently inspiring the "lover from a story" bit with their (as always) brilliant fic writing. would never have spent 3 weeks agonizing over this otherwise!!!

3rd October, 2952

Mellon,

I’m late writing you for entirely explainable reasons. You will say, not so unusual for you – that is not true, and you are only very over-eager writing me, which should not be as pleasant a revelation as it is – but anyhow, here it is. We’ve had many visitors of late, and my skill was needed in the healing den. Of course, I thought of you (in all Ada’s training I have not read nearly so much about the virtues of athelas as I did skimming your last letter) but I urge you not to worry, as we are all well here and there is no contagious illness. Your presence would have been appreciated though. If not by Ada (he sits in the study sometimes and looks yearningly out the window; I know he is missing you, though he won’t admit to it) than by the poor Dwarf whose stomach could not settle. You were always very good at getting a smile out of even the most stubborn of silly souls. 

On that point, how has it been on the frontier of friend-finding? I know you must not be in the Wilds any longer. Given how swiftly we understood each other, I am sure you will have no trouble at all on that front. Send updates soon,

AE

6th February, 2953

Estel,

Is the Angle so very cold as all that? Do not despair at the stiffness of your welcome (or in your bones!). You are still their kindred and that is manifest even in the curve of the characters you write: you love them already, do you not? Do not deny it. 

I am very intrigued by your observations on the rouge-wearing practices of your people and cannot help but wonder if it is an exclusively Mannish preference. I certainly do not wear it, but I have seen portraits and I do believe Uncle Elros did. I cannot determine the colour, however, as the portrait is old. Thoughts? 

You will see I have many questions today. Your insistence that every Dunedain woman you meet feels akin to a cousin or aunt is terribly amusing (I am almost convinced you are making a joke — are you?). I am sure at least one of them does not reciprocate that sentiment. Are they still wary of you, or very forward now? What is the food like? How many teeth have you broken upon the infamous bread you described? Have you met your grandfather yet? (I remember you were worried about that). 

Do not let the cold seep in too much. You must wear warm socks and eat foods that keep the blood warm. I may be an Elf, but my healing arts extend to many races, so you are thus obliged to listen to me. 

As for the rest – your people will love you soon as you do them, for such a love as the one you give is easy to return. You are certainly very likeable, at any rate, and I will argue with anyone who disagrees. 

Have hope, and be well. All will be as it should.

14th March, 2953

Do not say you listen to me on all fronts, as I have it in writing by your own hand that you have not eaten in three days. In the cold! Foolish man.

25th January, 2956

Elves do not experience such monthly pains, as you well know Estel. Or perhaps you do not, in which case I must chide Ada for thus limiting your training in the healing arts. Childbirth and bearing is a region most important, as I have learned (I can already imagine your blush) from your own mother, with whom I’ve spoken three times since your last letter. I have decided we must become fast friends, and her efforts at formality are altogether poor anyway; her face is as open as yours often is, and it warms me to know whence that quality came. 

Anyhow. The blood in your vest. There is clay that runs beneath the bark of some trees that will remove stains made by bodily fluid. Also vinegar, if you are near a homestead.

READ MORE

[lewkwoodnco]

Could you write an anthony lockwood x reader with 'you belong with me' by taylor swift?

You Belong With Me - Lockwood x Reader

A/N: 2.4k, enjoy! Tried my best, hope you like it :)

It was a quiet sort of night. George was shut up in his room as usual, tinkering with his experiments, and Lucy was finishing up a whodunit in the attic. There was nothing to do except sit in the kitchen and snack on marmalade toast while listening to the soft strains from the wheezing radio.

Whatever wailing love song that was playing finally ended, and some commercials started to play. She looked around disinterestedly, tuning out the cheesy advertisements. The door of the kitchen was slightly ajar, and through the gap she spied Lockwood standing at the telephone in the hallway. She couldn't quite make out what he was saying, but he looked mildly miffed and seemed to be busy extensively explaining something. He distractedly tugged at his scalp the way he did when he was burdened with a case that never seemed to end, and she almost felt sorry for him, if it weren't for the fact that it didn't take much to annoy Lockwood. She did it all the time.

He hung up the phone with a sigh, shifting out of sight for a moment, before reappearing at the door. He smiled at her and her sticky fingers weakly, rolling his eyes at the radio.

"I don't know why you bother with that beat-up piece of junk. It's been breaking down for years now. Maybe it's time to let it go."

"Are you kidding? Half the fun is positioning it just right." Lockwood shook his head, busying himself with some tea before sitting down opposite to her. She jerked her head towards the door, trying and failing to brush the sweet crumbs coating her fingertips. "Trouble in paradise?"

He laughed ruefully, running his fingers through his hair, as if just thinking about it was enough to make him want to pull at his hair. "No, not exactly. Anna's lovely, of course. It's just that we have different...tastes. She didn't like one of my jokes, I said that it wasn't that serious, and now she won't talk to me."

"Makes sense. Your jokes suck."

"They do not."

"You're the only one who laughs at them."

"You do too!"

"Only because they're so bad!" She trained her eyes on the precious little crumbs left on her plate, as if looking up would be enough to let Lockwood know how much she secretly adored his jokes. "I will say this: they're an acquired taste. I'm sure Anna's great, and all, but she hasn't known you all that long." She frowned into her tea as she took a sip. It was something that wriggled inside her brain from time to time. It took Lockwood a while to trust someone enough to let down his defences, and though she would never say it out loud, she felt as though he had rushed into this a bit too quickly, quicker than he was comfortable. The disparity just didn't reconcile in her mind no matter how she looked at it; it didn't make sense for quiet and unassuming Lockwood to suddenly launch himself headfirst into a relationship with someone he barely knew.

Maybe it was because Anna actually registered as a girl to him. After weeks of drifting through the rooms, looking like a zombie, even during lull periods, she probably didn't look much different to him than George. It wasn't that she didn't like dressing up; they had such little free time and dolling herself up was quite low on her list of hobbies. Anna, on the other hand, was always so put together, so pristine, so likeable, so easy to make substantial conversation with. She loved Anna to bits, but it stung whenever she saw her standing next to Lockwood. They didn't even have to be touching to simply look like a couple.

The commercials faded, and the radio forced out a few crackling notes of a jaunty tune, and the lyrics which accompanied it, at least those of which were decipherable, seemed barely coherent and completely nonsensical. Lockwood laughed, leaning back in his chair, fingers absent-mindedly drumming along to the beat.

"Anna would absolutely hate listening to this."

"It's entertaining!"

"It's nonsense, is what it is."

But in that moment, she just couldn't bring herself to care about what Anna would or wouldn't think. She saw her enough without dwelling on her when she wasn't even there. So what if the music was a little silly and clunky? She was a little silly and clunky herself. And she was having a hard time picking a fight with something that made serious-serious-Lockwood-with-bills-up-to-his-elbows laugh. How did he stand spending so much time with someone as averse to goofiness as Anna? It didn't make any sense to her.

But what did she know? It wasn't like she'd known him for ages and sometimes felt that she knew him better than he knew himself, or could sense when he was feeling down from the other end of the house, or was privy to all his inside jokes. No, that was a completely different girl that just happened to walk and talk exactly like her. But who was she to feel bitter over Lockwood's new beau? Just a starry-eyed employee who hung on his every word, whether she showed it or not.

"I don't get how you listen to this," Lockwood broke her out of her reverie, tapping at the dusty metal as she looked away, face warm over nearly being caught staring at him. "It all sounds the same to me. Like static."

"Not to me," she watched Lockwood swirl his tea, distantly wondering if there was some veil over his eyes that she could just peel back for him to see her as she was: everything he would be looking for. " I know it well. I know it inside out."

Oblivious as ever, Lockwood stared into his tea glumly, half-shrugging as he murmured. "We can get you a new one, if you'd like."

"No thanks. This one's perfect as is."

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

The next day, Lockwood went over to Anna’s in the morning, and when he came back, he was uncharacteristically quiet. He looked like he had a lot on his mind, so she didn’t want to bother him, but she couldn’t restrain herself for long. The Council had hired them for a job in a park, and George had sent the two of them to check out the perimeter to find any information that could be useful.

"I heard you leave in the morning."

"Hmm? Oh, yes. I was at Anna's."

"Everything okay?"

He forced out a laugh. "As okay as it can be, I suppose."

She nodded, feeling the sun beat down on them, burning the back of her neck. Her hair was starting to stick in her forehead and Lockwood's laid limply on his head, making him look even more deflated. It was a sluggish sort of day, too warm for children to be running about, so it was around an empty park that they were dragging their feet. The only people in sight was a group of high-schoolers, and even they seemed to be leaving soon. They decided to take a break on a park bench, watching the teacher anxiously repeat her head-counts.

"Sometimes I wonder what it would have been like. To stay in school, I mean. And...learn. And have anything ghost-related be background noise to...other things in life." He was choosing his words very carefully, but the blankness in his face sounded alarm bells in her head. She straightened, taking on a dry tone.

"I don't think you'd be able to handle it."

"No?"

"So much of you is tied to the paranormal, and some of it must be fate. I'd expect you'd somehow manage to make it your life's purpose anyway."

"How so?"

"I don't know. Ever fight a ghost?"

He choked on his laughter, caught off-guard. "Not yet, no."

"Well, there you go. You'd find a ghost, wind up your fist, and POW! And then you'd open an agency dedicated to knocking the living - er, dying - daylights out of ghosts."

"What if I got ghost touched?"

"Ech, then you'd be insufferable. You'd make it your whole personality and we'd never get rid of you."

His shoulders shook silently and he took a deep breath to calm himself down, only to burst into another fit of giggles. It wasn't easy to get Lockwood to laugh, and a very unique laugh he had - deep, but light at the same time, and it erased the wrinkles on his forehead and corners of his mouth like magic. He was alight with amusement, different from his somewhat stiff and hesitant smile in front of Anna, the kind of smile that made her want to look away, lest she fall in love even harder. She secretly prided herself on being one of the few people who could make him laugh so readily, creating a few moments for herself to unobtrusively memorise the curve of his smile and shine in his eye. It was Lockwood and her, two peas in a pod, who shared the same whisper of breath, whose heartbeats synced. Somehow or the other, they were always meant to be, even as friends; there was little else she knew with such certainty. He was something familiar, something known, a treasure trove of memories untold. He was home.

How long before he moved on to greater things in life? Things which didn't include her? How was she supposed to get up and move on herself? Leave, just like that?

Some clouds had gathered over where they were sitting, and a slight breeze picked up in the still air. Rather than making the park pleasantly cool, she felt a growing sense of unease, unsettled by the anxiety the rushing winds seemed to carry. Lockwood cleared his throat, standing up, glancing at his watch. "We should go. George will be waiting."

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

She was sitting in her room, unseeingly staring at the dust on her floor. The job had gone less than smoothly, and she was stuck in a cycle of reliving flashes of it, the terror that gripped her and the numbness that struck her heart when she saw Lockwood launching himself in between her and the ghost. As if her body knew she wasn't strong enough to handle the shock.

What followed wasn't pretty. She vaguely remembered yelling at Lockwood and maybe shoving him on some ice, but she was too blinded by rage to remember many details. She couldn't remember if he had tried to stop her or say anything in return, but that was just as well: she didn't want to hear a single pathetic excuse as to why he suddenly decided his life was worth less than hers.

She jerked up at the sound of a soft knock at her door. It was Lockwood, still holding his coat in his hand and his sleeves slightly rolled up. He had a Hello Kitty bandage near his hairline, but other than that, he looked just as worn as he did on the way back. Their bedrooms were situated such that Lockwood would pass by on his way to and from the library, and he more often than not stopped to chat about the most menial of topics, even if it was in the middle of the night, as long as she was awake. This visit, however, clearly didn't have that same ease to it. He looked at her hopefully, maybe a little expectantly, but she looked back impassively.

"You alright?" He asked tentatively, faltering under her sharp gaze. He sighed, rubbing the back of his neck, looking so pitiful that she felt a stab of pity despite herself.

"Look, I didn't realise what I was doing. You looked so scared. I only wanted to help." She finally relented.

"Of course I was scared. I'm always scared. I'm scared that we don't have enough flares, that we underestimated the number of ghosts, that one of them will touch us. But none of that scares me as much as you or your reckless abandon. I know how far you'd risk your neck for us, and I can only hope I'm wrong. If you were touched..." she trailed off, a disturbed silence stretching out in front of both of them. "I don't know if I would be able to live with myself. You belong here," she reached out, wrapping her fingers around Lockwood's with only a dulled sense of panic. "Here, in the real world, with us. With me."

She was tired, so tired, as she closed her eyes, head on his collarbone. "I know you like the back of my hand, Lockwood. You're always the first one out the door on every single one of our suicide missions, but there's something quieter under all that bravado. A craving for peace." She blinked back tears she didn't realise were there, breath shallow. "And I hope you find it. I hope you find it in time."

They sat like that for a while, her forehead gently resting on the side of his cheekbone, both of their visions adjacent to each other. Lockwood's heart pulsed through his veins but all she remembered was the sticky stagnance that cemented them, as if they were slowly drifting towards their doom. She would never open her heart to anyone else, and he would never change his ways, and they would wonder why they were heartbroken as they grew old together. She saw a tear land on his dusty white shirt, and her remaining resolve to hold herself together dissolved.

"It's just...we have so little. I want even less. I just want to spend the rest of my days fighting ghosts and listening to a crappy radio with you. Is that too much to ask for?"

He inhaled shakily, and she held his wrist to steady him. He was silent for a while before he responded.

"I wasn't completely honest before. Anna and I...we ended things. And I was having a lot of thoughts about whether or not I did the right thing. Whether I really was too blind to see what was right in front of me. I think I've found my answer."

There was nothing wrong with going out, messing up, trying to find love. But if it's not out there, he was always going to come back.

Come back to the person he knew all along.

[kiwipineappleparasol]

oh Yeah I forgot I never Posted the rest of my Thoughts on the TTYD remake ... Whoops! These things happen I suppose. Since it’s almost OG TTYD’s NA release again, might as well post them now ! Spoilers below for the whole game and post game!

THE EXCESS EXPRESS IS SOOO PRETTY WITH THE NEW LIGHTING !!! I had to take so many screenshots. Especially at sunset or at night. And the MUSIC… The evening atmosphere in general is just soooo good. I would keep trying to get images of my partners sitting at the dining tables to little success.

I remember getting a taste of all the new poses before the remake came out with some comparison images but it's still so cool to me

I had Vivian out when I inspected the stains on the dining car floor and . Actually I'll just put the clip here . Beldam SUCKS (we knew this it's just being reiterated)

the Ghost T sequence looks awesome. The light of Heaven…. Of course I read his diary, and holy shit the glitching effects and stuff wasn't what I expected at all (can’t remember if they were in the og) but it really adds to the DEATH CURSE .

my mother asked why they'd bother to tie up Doopliss because he did nothing wrong . This is true Doopliss has never done anything wrong in his (after)life (joking statement)

Riverside station is soooo pretty….. Unclear how the sun is supposed to be going through the mountains like that though. Not like it matters when it looks so Cool and Wavy.

The inside of the station looks less run down than it did from my memory and moreso just old and abandoned, in a way that I like. It just feels so …empty in a good way.

When you're supposed to hit the Smorgs with your hammer, if you have any partner other than Goombella out and use the Partner Hint, she will tell you as much -- but if you have Flurrie out, Flurrie will instead tell you that, and that she can blow them away! Such a neat touch. They really thought of everything.

the scene of TEC shutting down … It just has such Drama to it. I didn't get to that part in my last playthrough so I can't compare it mentally but I liked it.

Slight Detour: to defeat Bonetail and save a kid’s dad ! Gotta wait for Frankly anyways right

Anyways! back on track . I forgot to write many notes for the last two chapters Unfortunately. Here’s what I got:

AWESOME SHOOTING TO THE MOON CUTSCENE

if you have Vivian out during the cutscene entering the X Naut fortress she's like "not this place again…" I love how she actually references being there before

LORD CRUMP'S STUPID EVIL LAUGH POSE is so good . I love all the new poses so much and I don't think he had it in the original? But idk . He literally only has it for like. Two seconds. But either they thought it was so important and I respect it.

he sucks up the audience with his .. um. his. why is the vacuum coming out from between Magnus Von Grapple's legs.

The scene of the Thousand Year Door opening was so sick I had to watch it multiple times . The crystal stars look so awesome here, and the presence the door has … The way it cracks and opens to this swirling darkness… Awesome.

We get to finally give Beldam a taste of her medicine, or as Vivian said "it's her turn to get punished" … Sad to see Doopliss get duped in this nonsense. In the tattle log it said Beldam specifically sought him out … Definitely after he ran by them crying after Chapter 4 . Beldam loves targeting people she thinks are weak! How likeable. She is directly called abusive by Goombella in Doopliss' tattle -- not that it isn't obvious but you know, happy to see it called what it is.

There's another puzzle moment where you could use either Koops or Yoshi Kid -- you're expected to use Koops but if you have Yoshi Kid out he'll say as much. So cool. I loooove accounting for multiple solutions.

when Grodus said the world is mine. Well. I had to laugh. Someone show him Miku. Also when he got INCINERATED BY THE SHADOW QUEEN. That moment has always been so funny to me. He's so fucking stupid did he think the demon would actually listen to him. That's what he gets for trying to kill Lord Crump off LMAO. also for what he did to TEC I Guess 🙄

THE HANDS CRAWLING ACROSS THE LAND . LETS GO

The epilogue of Goombella visiting everyone has always been sweet, showing that while direct interactions between everyone weren't really shown, they did become friends -- but they all had their own lives before this. So they take their new inspirations they gained on their adventure with Mario to continue on new paths and all.

PAUSE! welcome to my STORY CRITIQUE SECTION! (Yes, I can criticize my favorite video game of all time. These problems were in the original however so it's not a remake thing.)

Listen we love Goombella threatening Beldam to never hurt Vivian again but Vivian deserved an ending outside of her life with her sisters. Yes, it's in character for her to want a happy ending with them but c'mon. Noone deserves to stick around Beldam. If you asked me I would have changed her ending with her reconciling with Marilyn and Doopliss but not Beldam because those two were also victims of Beldam -- and Doopliss literally replaced her as the scapegoat lmao. They have so much to talk about. I think that's my one critique with Vivian's storyline. Grubba never showed his face again; Beldam didn't have to either.

I can absolutely believe that Grodus ditched the full on evil act though. I mean. He's just a head now. And now he has to have his minions carry him everywhere. Plus getting incinerated at the apex of his World Conquest Plan probably killed off his motivation. He's so pathetic now. Definitely still a bad person but what is he going to do about it. Beldam however suffered no such consequences aside from … I guess getting beat up in the Palace of Shadow once? Which is unfortunate and she doesn't deserve any forgiveness from… Literally anyone. So I don't see why she would ditch being an Asshole -- especially considering unlike Grodus, the shadow queen actually respects Beldam. Beldam should feel more robbed because this was her victory that Mario & Co took from her. But I guess they just wanted to give everyone a happy ending -- I just don't think any ending with Beldam in it is happy for anyone involved.

OK BACK TO SHAMELESS GUSHING!

THE CREDIT SEQUENCE ANIMATIONS ARE SO CUTE!!! THEY MADE THE CREDITS SEQUENCE ALL ANIMATED IN THE REMAKE FOR ME!! IT IS SO . FUCKING GOOD. AND ALL THE IMAGES IN THE BACKGROUND ARE ACTUALLY UNIQUE FROM RHE GAMEPLAY??? THEY HAVE MULTIPLE PARTNERS AND UNIQUE PERSPECTIVES AND HUHHH?? THEY MADE THIS SO COOL??? I need to rewatch it because there's so many segments I love . A complete and total upgrade from the original and so much more in line with the charm from the Original Paper Mario's credit sequence . We loveeee you people who made the remake credit sequence you did this for meeee

THE REDONE PAPER MARIO 64 THEME WHEN YOU TALK TO BOW !!! I love it I listened to it in the music player a bunch … Also her and Bootlers new poses are great.

The Prince Mush fight is actually a perfect extra hard boss that takes advantage of the unique battle mechanics and I absolutely love it. Like, adding an optional boss to the remake that has to be defeated by superguarding is such a great way to put a mechanic not everyone will be using to the forefront, and that naturally makes this boss difficult until you master it. I know I failed several times, but I also had the unsimplifier badge on… Once I took that off I won without even needing to heal. Felt so cool.

The New secret fight in the Pit of Hundred Trials was also really neat ! I think I cheesed it a bit using Vivian's Veil, but the amount of damage he can rack up is crazy . Took out multiple of my partners, but I ultimately beat it the first time without even using my healing items. I still need to find out what trial stew does…

And with that, I had gotten every tattle, recipe, badge, and completed every trouble (my final trouble was removing the graffiti in the Pit of a Hundred trials, did that on the way to that secret fight you get after you had beat the pit once and some other requirements)

In Conclusion: I FUCKING LOVE TTYD !! still can’t believe this is real just reading back through my notes and looking at my screenshots, it feels like a dream. I’m so glad I got to experience this.