#I spared you like half this tag rant it was twice as long a minute before I posted

[amplexadversary]

More Utena, ep 29-39

Damn it, I should have made a quip at some point between 30 and 32 about already knowing Touga was a bastard. Oh well.

(What I actually thought when they were going over the blood types was "oopsie, someone's having a non-parental event")

It is kind of darkly funny that the situation of Nanami finding that she's "not" related to Touga (up until the audience gets more information) makes her feel that their relationship is less valid and not more.

Then again she demonstrates that she doesn't want to have sex with Touga, so her brother complex is more emotional/romantic incest. Still kind of fucked up.

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I do applaud this show for its gradual introduction of the horror while still maintaining the trappings of a Shoujo Romance (the rose frames, parts of the soundtrack, you know). Those elements gradually become extremely chilling the further in you get.

(Not to mention a single rose appearing to spin onscreen during some of the disturbing interactions)

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I see what the game is. One of the student council members would not have encouraged Anthy the be more herself, but they would have had a chance to get her away from her abuser. But if Akio gets Utena under his thumb, and she wins the last duel, both Utena and Anthy are stuck with him.

And only after that does Utena see what both Anthy and Nanami couldn't bring themselves to say out loud.

And she doesn't react. Because she's mired in it too I'd guess. Because Akio is abusing her as well.

An idea that's kind of reinforced by a date scene where Akio further pushes Utena towards femininity.

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"In the end, all girls are like the Rose Bride." I think Anthy just dropped Utena's thesis statement here.

In that you're expected to wait until someone else makes every move. In that you don't really get a choice, sometimes even if there's multiple people who proposition you, in some circles you're expected to choose the "best," you could even say the "winner" among the competition, regardless of your feelings. In that you're then expected to go along with the decisions the other person makes, giving them the authority, more or less just tagging along.

In that you're expected to be whatever the situation at hand requires, no less and certainly no more, and failing that invites retaliation (I very specifically am thinking about how that must be the attitude Saionji had when hitting Anthy; it's not enough that she was basically completely submissive to him, he's still going to hit her for not measuring up to some expectation of his.)

I almost wonder if the shadow players kind of align with this, in their purpose being to act out roles thematically specific to the situation the main plot is in. The fact that we don't see them bodily until they need to physically interact with one of the characters - it doesn't matter who they actually are, just the role they play, and shadows are less intrusive. And the main characters don't pay them any mind except for Utena, when she eventually starts responding to them.

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Now I'm wondering if the flying saucer actually represents the weird, unhealthy dynamic of the whole End of the World Rose Bride thing intruding on peoples' regular lives.

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I've noticed a few times that there are deliberate sections on this show where the animation just stops for several seconds, and the music keeps going. I actually rewound the first few times to see if youtube was having an issue, and started hovering my cursor over the video whenever I caught it happening again, so I could see the time move forward normally rather than in the janky way it does when you actually get the error where the sound is playing while the picture isn't.

I'm on e37 and now I'm seeing a few of these choices together (the spinning rose, the "frozen" video, repeated animation and sounds) paired up with some strange dialogue and transitions that resemble what a clumsy edit to film might look like, with abrupt changes, repeats of dialogue, and an unnatural rate of flow to the conversation.

I think the animation pauses are meant to both unnerve the viewer and to prime them to notice when it starts happening really blatantly, to convince the audience to interpret it as "something's fishy in-universe" rather than "who fucked up the shot."

The arrows in the back half of the Black Rose arc might serve a similar purpose. They seem to genuinely point to things that the plot is counting on the audience to pick up on; aside from one animation error I couldn't find anything they might have been distracting from. They're actually a legitimate "Notice This."

I almost wonder if the first person POV in the gondola version of the pre-duel sequence being in first person was a bit of slight-of-camera. As of yet I haven't seen any hint of what that POV might have been hiding, but I *did* miss the POV camera trickery in 33 up until the reveal; in addition to being shown out of chronological order, the camera spends a lot of time exactly where Akio or Utena is in the scene to hide their presence.

The gondola sequence feels like a more "easily caught" trick because the "camera" is moving, so when the same trick was pulled with an unmoving POV I was looking for it, but not in that place; the setup is that the audience is more likely to realize what's happening exactly when the right information is given (Akio's hand in this case).

Now I'm wondering if there's still a POV-related reveal coming about the gondola approach now that my guard is down after the other POV trick was resolved. (post e39 note: nope!)

(Look, I like a LOT of works where the authors are squirrelly little tricksters like this, and Utena has already had some weird surrealness going on. I'm paranoid for a reason, damn it!)

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Well, the opening did in fact tell us exactly what was going to happen.

Utena was not able to rescue Anthy, but her efforts gave Anthy the strength of self-determination to leave.

"Even if the two of us are torn apart, I swear I will change the world."

Utena didn't succeed, but she was able to change things for the Rose Bride. And if "Every girl is like the Rose Bride," the two of them actually do change the world; in Anthy gaining the power to leave the situation she's in, metaphorically "every girl" receives that power.

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I know there's a movie. I'll see if I can find that as well before I go into the main tag.

[the-bark-is-worse]

Long Rant; and please spare me the passive aggressive anons telling me not to be angry or calm down. I am calm, you don’t always have to be angry to complain about or bring awareness to soemthing.

I dont read snk fanfic as much as i used to but when i do its always the same headache

Please please PLEASE stop tagging Levi/Petra in your reader X Levi fanfics, or any other Levi ship if you’re not shipping them with that character.

Stuff like this is unnecessary. It’s rude and inconsiderate. I’m going to the Levi/Petra tag for Levi/Petra fics, not to see you absolutely shit all over a character you need to put down to justify your own fic plot.

You can literally just tag the character. You don’t have to tag the ship if they’re just interacting. If it’s a past relationship, onesided/unrequited, just use that instead.

Its not that hard. Half of you that use AO3 spend 20 minutes picking out tags anyway; you can take a second tk think twice about tagging ships that aren’t supported or reflected or end game in your fics.

This goes for all ship fandoms too, so don’t think I’m just coming after Levi x Reader people. And I’m not saying rivetra people are innocent of it either, I’ve seen it on all sides, okay.

I don’t tag Levi/han or Ere/ri or Eru/ri in my AO3 RIVETRA fics. And I’m sure that these fandoms dont want to see their ships tagged in a Rivetra end game fic either.

[boop-le-snoot]

PARTY FAVOURS | CHAPTER 3

Rating: Explicit.

‼️TW: Reader is EIGHTEEN! Recreational drug use, smoking and alcohol consumption, deeply internalised self-loathing, very questionable moral standards. Daddy kink taken half-seriously. BDSM themes in later chapters - explicit content will come with it’s own TWs. FIRST PERSON POV.

Summary: You’re Peter’s classmate, a child of rich and famous but uncaring parents. Getting paired up for a lengthy project with the boy was an interesting turn of events and you don’t know whether to feel blessed or cursed when you develop, seemingly, a perfectly normal, harmless crush on Tony Stark. Fueled by feelings of inadequacy and boredom, your life spirals out of control - and you’re lucky your newfound friends are there to pick up the pieces even if you cannot find it in yourself to believe these amazing human (and not so human) beings voluntarily give you more than a fleeting glance and an offhanded thought. And they brought cake!

A/N: Peter always unapologetically stealing all the uwus. It’s the MCU law, sorry, didn’t make it. Tony Stark can ✨rail me✨. Enjoy, deviants.

THE TAG LIST IS NOW OPEN! @another-stark-sub @mostly-marvel-musings​ @vozit​ @littlegasps​ @pilloclock​ @shereadsinquiet​

Beta read by the lovely and patient @miscmarvelwritings ! She deserves THE WORLD! I’m not kidding. Please visit her and show her some love, my homegirl is stressed 💖✨

I didn’t see Bruce nor Tony for a week. The doctor was away on some science conference (he sent me one dorky selfie next to a whiteboard full of barely intelligible equations as proof), Tony was in California, having some sort of a board meeting. How do I know? Peter, out of lack of better things to do, constantly texted me updates on his science patron’s whereabouts and what-abouts.

In times like these, it took me for a loop - I was on a first name basis with Tony Stark and Bruce Banner. In the beginning, I was intimidated - I avoided them both like the plague and tinkered in the lab with headphones on whenever I could, until Tony made a comment so snarky I couldn’t resist joking back. That’s not to say Bruce was a social butterfly, but even he gave into my tomfoolery after seeing me stand calmly throughout several of Tony’s hissy fits.

What amazed me even more so was that despite Tony being literally an insufferable little brat, I still longed after him. Sure, the man was hot as hell - but his physical traits were much less significant when it came to my feelings towards him than the amount of sheer drive and willpower he possessed. He was stubborn - that’s another trait we shared - and unapologetically himself in every damn situation.

I could write poetry about the million expressions in his face, about the shine in his eyes.

But I won’t. He’s a technical guru. Ever since I started hanging around the tower, I became much more conscious about what I posted online. Not to say I had a Stark fan blog or anything, but I’d stopped scrolling through the tag, even if I didn’t actually click on any articles. I dutifully reblogged pictures of Tom Ellis instead - while he was a very fine, distinguished man, he wasn’t Tony Stark. I enjoyed looking at the first and enjoyed being around the other. And even though my feed still had the occasional “I love arm” shitpost, I focused on aesthetic pictures and quotes instead - things I had an active internet presence for.

My personal life wasn’t very interesting. I didn’t have any close friends and any and all sex I’ve had was just a bunch of one night stands, fueled by alcohol, selfish lust and the occasional joint. Despite having a fair share of kind, generous lovers, the morning after left me feeling a little bit emptier every time. I thought about getting a boyfriend or something… But quickly became totally clueless as to where I could find one. Men under twenty-five could barely hold my interest long enough to have a casual chat and I wasn’t naive enough to think there were a lot of honest, well-intentioned thirty-somethings that wanted to date my high school ass.

Peter had a crush on me, I knew that. The boy developed one or another kind of feelings for anybody who showed him the tiniest bit of kindness and it alarmed me. In any other case I would have bailed on him, gently, of course, to spare him the disappointment but my selfishness got in the way. I regretted it every day. A wave of desperation rose in me every time I thought about moving on without seeing Tony or Bruce, without Peter shyly smiling at me as he explained how the things he created worked. A faint hope that one day, his schoolboy puppy love will grow into a brotherly kind of regard was the only thing that kept me afloat in my sea of guilt.

As the Fall rolled around, so did my gloomy mood. It was hard to be sad when the sun was shining and the birds were chirping outside, but with clouds hanging over the city like a lead curtain, the bottled up negativity rose to the surface uninvited. Mother had returned from her business trip, adding an uncomfortable, hollow sort of chill to the house wherever she stood. I don’t know what was worse - the hours we spent in one room ignoring each other or the immaculately structured questions she asked me about my studies and extra-curriculars. Mother didn’t ask me about my friends, or my feelings or any of the other things a mother was supposed to give a damn about.

I was an asset to her company and that was that. If you would have asked her, she would tell you I’m old enough for her to mind her own business - which was technically true. Yet according to her, I’ve been old enough since seventh grade. My dad answered his messages sporadically, sometimes with a two-word answer and sometimes with a cocaine and booze fueled rant eleven texts long. I felt sorry for him. I really did.

My phone was blowing up. Party invitations, likes from people I saw once or twice (“oh my god, you’re, like, so hot, what’s your Insta”), DMs from guys looking to score an easy piece of ass. I never answered. If I wanted to party, I just sort of showed up and everybody went along with it. I took care of my appearance and it showed - never once was I turned away from a party. Everyone wanted to dance, to share their drinks, to light up and get faded together and fade into the city, into the cold air and grey sky.

Skirt swaying and top clinging to my chest, I danced. The sweaty, heated bodies around me did the same. Not one of us cared, it was a Tuesday night and the place packed way too many people. An arm snaked around my waist, startling me. I had to begrudgingly crack open an eye to see the bastard in the dimly lit room.

“I saw you at the bar, you looked bored. Maybe you need something to cheer you up?”

So not a creepy rapist. Just your friendly neighborhood drug dealer. At house parties like these, there was always The Guy. He never danced, he sipped on the same drink all night yet always looked like he was having the time of his life. I was no stranger to the occasional joint, or even something more stimulating…

“I got the good stuff, sweetums, you’ll be fine and dandy in no time.”

Eh, what the hell. I inconspicuously danced with the guy to the middle of the crowd, exchanging a few crumpled dollar notes for a baggie of two pills. In no time, I chased one down with a hastily poured Jack.

The world did become better, as the drug dealer promised. People were nicer, friendlier and I almost didn’t believe mother was a useless, stone cold bitch. I almost didn’t care that I was deeply, madly in love with a man as unreachable as Olympus. If I squinted, the guy sitting at the bar looked kind of like Tony, tan, dark hair, worn jeans and a band tee.

So I danced. I danced and I stared right at him and then we danced some more. I closed my eyes, letting his arms grab me and pull me, I let his beard scratch my neck where he sucked a mark on me, I let his rough palms choke me against a wall in one of the bedrooms on the second floor of the house. It felt good to be wanted. It felt great to be needed as he rutted inside of me, hitting that sweet spot with every twitch of his hips.

It felt lonely when he left, pressing a kiss to my forehead and saying something dumb like “Be good, kid.”. I don’t remember what exactly it was, only that I had to turn my face away from his breath that reeked like weed and vodka.

To shake off the void that made home inside of my chest, I went to the roof to get some fresh air. The house had a nice patio on it - I actually knew the owner - that hosted more plants than I’d care to count. There was an ashtray and an abandoned pack of cigarettes. I greeted the faintly blooming sunrise surrounded by a cloud of smoke, shivering in the autumn mist.

Sounds of the party became less prominent with every passing minute as people geared up to go home and get a few winks of sleep before going to work. New Yorkers weren’t really thoughtful partying on a Tuesday, but then again, neither was I. The city always was busy - even then, at the crack of dawn, the dull throb of a bassline was rudely interrupted by a blaring car alarm followed by dogs barking in aggravation.

The more I sat there, the bleaker everything became. I had enough common sense to know I was just coming off the drug but for once, I had been happy and content for several hours without a care in the world. It had been too long since I felt that way and what’s a little low after a good high?

Mother left for her early conference at five AM sharp, I entered my house at five-thirty, making a beeline in the shower and immediately dumping my alcohol and cigarette soaked clothes into the wash with the smelliest detergent I could find. I gave similar treatment to my body and my hair, using the chemically-smelling products on my body and on my hair, brushing my teeth multiple times.

By the time I was leaving for school, only a faint smell lingered in the air where I’d previously entered, so I set the air freshener to automatically spray the obnoxious mist every ten minutes. Mother gets home at twelve for lunch, that should be more than enough time for any remnants of my partying to disappear into the lilac and lavender fumes.

The Valium I’d popped to deal with the aftermath of Molly made my brain sluggish. One look in the mirror and I hastily put my sunglasses on - the ashen colour of my face and the slightly crazed look wasn’t very complimentary to my complexion. The teacher didn’t give a damn. I stared blankly ahead of me for most part of first period.

“What happened to you? You look like hell!” Peter’s exclamation, while usually would’ve alarmed me, barely made a dent in my stupor.

“I feel like shit, too,” Admit what you can’t deny. Deny what you can’t admit. “I didn’t get any sleep. Like, at all.”

Peter frowned, the crease between his eyebrows growing deeper with every passing second. I flinched when his hand tentatively touched my forehead - the pounding in my temples slowed to a dull throbbing but it was still unpleasant when someone was all up in my space.

“Jesus, you’re as cold as a corpse. Maybe you should go see the nurse,” His worry bled into me too. Like hell I was going to the school nurse! They were specifically trained to recognize the signs of substance abuse.

“I’ll head home straight after school, I think we’ll have to skip our sciencing,” No way also I’d be letting Tony and Bruce see me like this. Oh my God, I was a mess. “Mother’s home.” I added. Even the emotional frostbite I’d get from being around her was more tolerable than being a downer for Peter and Tony.

Peter’s face immediately softened in sympathy. He knew almost everything about my relationship with my family, including him actually seeing my mother that one time. He told me she gave him the creeps and I don’t blame him at all. The stoicism that was required for her work made my mother an unbearable person to exist around outside of her fancy office on the top floor of a glass high-rise building.

“Okay, but promise to text me if it gets worse. You might have caught the autumn bug that’s been going around,” He obviously said the last part to calm himself down. Sweet little Peter, naïve child. I solemnly nodded nonetheless.

When I got home, I went straight to bed. Tony was being Tony, as usual, but in a strangely kind way. I suppose it should’ve made me feel better and it kind of did, but then it went downhill from there. I couldn’t explain why I started crying. I bawled my eyes out at how unfair this god-damned world was and when the doorbell rang… Let’s say, the delivery boy hightailed it out of there once the bag of takeout was deposited into my arms. I looked and felt ghastly.

I ate as much as I could and dropped into a restless nap, drifting in and out of sleep with exhausted exasperation. There had not been a time where I felt so low after popping a pill and I was equal parts alarmed and satisfied. For one, the drug dealer didn’t lie like they usually do - the stuff was good and I still had the other pill hidden away in a bottle of painkillers, inconspicuously mixed with other white pills but shape distinctive enough for me to recognize should I have need in taking it again.

The thought of well, taking it again, was fleeting. I had school tomorrow and a missed science bender to make up for. A few buzzes of my phone later, I felt happier. Better. Not so down anymore. I meant every word that I said - Bruce was very precious, kind and gentle. And so, warm and soft. And totally kissable.

Well, fuck. What do I do now?