#It’s so fucking funny in retrospect but I feel so bad for her

[maybebitterxox]

The pitch for Buffy The Vampire Slayer was probably just “What if there was a girl who could kill vampires. And she can Never Catch A Fucking Break”

[pennedinblood]

as of ten minutes ago we are officially Jobless™️. my sign to retire early and devote the remainder of my existence to writing toxic old man yaoi

[stargirlfics]

Misbehavior

Joel Miller x Black F!Reader

Summary: It’s the first and last time you ever talk back to his face

Warnings: 18+ ONLY, post-outbreak, Joel and Ellie are settled in Jackson, established relationship, brat tamer!Joel vibes, smut: rough sex, unprotected vaginal sex, orgasm denial, hair pulling, spanking mentions, dirty talk

Word Count: 3.1k

Cannot stop thinking about Joel’s sick little smirk here! I want him to put me in my place so bad, hope you enjoy this one!

It’s the way Joel Miller looks riding his horse, a hunting knife on his hip and a rifle held expertly along with the reigns in his broad hands that makes your skin prickle and your breathing deepen. 

Spring is still yet thawing the cold woods ahead of you but you only feel heat staring at his sturdy shoulders, sturdy everything actually, that you knew to be a fact, smiling to yourself about it as your own horse trailed closeby just a few feet behind him. 

Being paired with him and being with him period felt right, natural, like somehow this was always where you were meant to be in this life. 

You trusted each other now, able to move in silence like this, with his steady and well adjusted trigger finger and your sharp eyes, pointing out tracks, watching for signs of life, listening for infected or raiders, the two of you undoubtedly working well together. 

In fact everyone in Jackson said so, especially Ellie, but if any of them knew just how much of a brat you’d been to him in the beginning they’d be surprised you were together at all. 

It’s not that you and him got off on the wrong foot, but keeping him just on the edge of aggravated kept you at a safe distance away from acting on your distracted, midday, late night thoughts about him. 

He was wary of strangers anyways and back then you were unknown to each other and gaining trust had taken time but eventually you stopped keeping each other at arm's length.

Started seeing each other around the stables more often, or rather you saw Ellie there and quickly learned that wherever she was, Joel wasn’t too far behind. 

You remembered showing her the way around the barn, where supplies were kept in case she ever needed anything, noticing her interest in the animals, encouraging it, indulging in her never ending questions because you only wanted to see her smile. 

In retrospect you think that’s why Joel tolerated your game of push and pull, why he warmed up to you in the end, because you were someone his kiddo approved of. 

Funny how things could change, how a relationship could form in between quiet glances and soft smiles, weathered walls falling at the brush of his hand against yours and that smooth drawl saying your name as if it were sacred. 

That was then and this was now, patrolling the perimeters together in the moonlight. 

A soft toned whistle that loosened from his lips caught your attention, spine straightening at the signal that was just for you and him. 

“Hm?” came your distracted hum, huffed in response while you picked up speed so your horses were walking almost side by side then. 

“I heard you went out on patrol completely on your own the other night, yeah? While knowin raiders have been close, ain’t that right? So I’m only going to say this once…start explaining.” 

His voice is clipped, a quiet, contained anger in them reminding you of his sharper edges, the ones you’d only caught glimpses of, heard whispers of, that visceral part of him that only raged to protect the people he loved most. 

Joel would never hurt you, if you were certain of anything it was that, but there were times where you wanted to feel even just a fraction of his wrathful touch, to be reminded of what he’s capable of, knowing he could make it hurt in the best way.

It’s the thought along with the shiver rolling through your limbs that makes your pace falter, as you scramble for words and then for air next when all you were met with was dark eyes cutting a pointed glance your way. 

“Fuck…ok yes, I did but it was only because there was already a group of us nearby, it felt safe. They sent someone back to get a message to me that they found tracks, a stag, just needed my help finding him. Then one of Tommy’s guys escorted me back, it was fine.”  

“Doesn’t mean you should have gone on your own, I  don’t give a damn how safe it was.” 

“Hey! I’ve been hunting and going on patrols by myself long before you showed up,” you shot back at his harsh retort, suddenly feeling defensive. “I know these woods like the back of my hand, I could be blindfolded and still come back with more game than you, old man.”

He scoffed at your insult, another heavy glare coming right after. 

“I don’t doubt that for a second, darlin. Just wish you would have told me is all I’m sayin.” 

There’s weight in his words, a deeper meaning you pick up immediately and you know he’s right and there’s no denying that you’d be chewing him out ten times worse if he’d done the same, the risk of losing each other an easy nerve to strike after all that’s happened. 

A beat of silence punctates the air before you’re speaking again, tone much softer, apologetic. 

“I hear you. I should have at least told you and I’m sorry I didn’t, I wasn't really thinking in the moment. Thank you, by the way, for caring about me enough to say something.” 

You hoped he could hear the guilt laced in your words, and the gratefulness of them too, still getting used to someone so wired to protect which never failed to make your heart flip. Nobody told you it could feel like this. 

“S’alright, of course I care. I don’t wanna downplay how skilled you are either, I just hate thinking of something happenin and not being there you know.” 

That had you smiling a little, pulse fluttering at the reminder of your feelings for each other, the gravity behind what he was saying. 

Gently you let your leg nudge his, both your horses slowing as you came to the edge of the perimeter you were watching.

“I promise it won’t happen again.” 

The softening edge of Joel’s eyes were visible now as he looked at you, giving you a firm but approving nod. 

Silence settles between you again, only lighter this time with feelings eased and things smoothed over though for you, there was a leftover kind of excitement stirring in your tummy. 

Your ears were still ringing with the gruffness of his voice, an antsy energy in your limbs at how stern he had been. Heated distraction lodged itself front and center in your mind, thoughts of Joel handling you just as harshly as his glares had been making you squirm in your saddle. 

A low chuckle interrupts the tiny sparks of a dirty daydream you didn’t even realize you’d fallen into until now. 

“What’s so funny?” you feign innocence. 

“Nothin, just think it’s cute when you get that look on your face, only happens when you’re hungry…or when you wanna be fucked.” 

Again, you were left scrambling for words for the second time tonight, heart hammering in your chest at the way the last few words slid from his lips, dripping with some unspoken invitation. 

“I-don’t know what you’re talking about.” 

Disagreeing is pointless when you know he can see it written across your face but you refute anyways, adding a bit of attitude to your tone. 

Joel huffs another laugh, clicking his tongue while he encouraged his horse to move again, back in the direction you’d come. 

“Hm, you were so ready to agree with me just a minute ago, now you’re back to sassin me?” 

“Maybe I am. What’s so wrong about that?” you shrug and roll your eyes for good measure. 

He was opening up all the right doors and you were almost too eager to walk through them, craving the part of Joel you knew could get mean.

“I’m really gonna have to do something about that mouth of yours, huh,” he sighed, amusement curling around the edges of his lips. 

Butterflies danced in your core as you smirked back at him, finding your footing quick, “Oh I should hope so, I’ll be waiting.” 

It’s what you leave him with as you surge forward, not straying too far from his line of sight, but enough so that he has some distance to cover. 

Joel gives you a few seconds, lets you think you’re gaining some kind of upper hand before he sets out after you, a tick in his jaw and a hungry itch in his hands. 

–

It’s only a day later that you realize how screwed you are, facing down the stark reality of this little game you started. 

He had cornered you, finding you in the hall leading to his bedroom, a dark glint in his eyes when he tells you it’s an empty house tonight, just you, him and unfinished business. 

The tip of his boot moves to give your heel a light tap then, prompting you to move. 

“Want you in bed, sweetheart. Now.” 

There’s a suspended moment before you’re sealing your fate, pushing the pendulum fully in his direction.

“I don’t really feel like listening to you though, so I guess you’ll just have to make me…if you can even handle it,” you tip your chin up, trying not to be intimidated by the way he’s crowding your space. 

Your skin tingles, never having talked back to him so flat out before. 

Then you realize he’s already got you where he wants, strong hands snaking around your middle until he’s got one on your hip and the other reaching for a fistful of your hair, gripping firmly before he’s moving you forward, pushing you through the doorway. 

A sharp gasp bubbles up from your chest and he’s laughing darkly.  

There’s no use in resisting or struggling but you do anyway, finding a thrill in how easy it is for him to keep you locked in his grip, liking the aggressive pinch of his fingers as he moves your limbs for you, bringing you over to the bed, forcing you to bend over it.

Shaky hands reach for purchase against the sheets as Joel slides his palms over your ass, humming to himself. 

“I keep thinkin bout spanking this pretty ass of yours raw but you’d probably enjoy that too much wouldn’t you?” 

All you can do is whine, too worked up to think of anything witty to say which is probably for the best. 

No time was wasted, nothing held back, no teasing to be had, the two of you desperate now, needy. 

The heated skin of your thighs meets cool air as Joel strips you down, yanking at your clothes carelessly, so what if the fabric tears in his hands, he just needs you bare and underneath him already. 

You work on your top half, wriggling out of your t-shirt, tossing your bra to the floor, moonlight setting the brown of your skin aglow; Joel would have called you an angel if he didn’t know just how wicked your sweet self could really be. 

It’s not long before your cheek is pressed to the bed, hips high in the air, the dripping mess that you are on display as he fits himself behind you. 

He grins, undoing the buckle of his belt with one hand while the other braces against your hip, pressing down, deepening the arch in your back. 

Fuck. 

The arousal swirls achingly across your body, thighs clenching as you watch, his worn flannel falling the ground next to your jeans, your eyes feasting on the expanse of his shoulders, down over his chest, down to where he was drawing himself out, already stiff, flushed and aching to be buried deep. 

“Remember how to tell me if you wanna stop?” His question is one you’re expecting, nodding with a soft whine when he moves to grind his cock against where you’re wet and eager, your hand reaching back to tap a sequence against his skin. 

He seemed to approve of your demonstration, his free hand coating the rest of his length in your slick with a few dirty strokes of his fist before pressing against you, the tip catching and your walls yielding, letting him sink inside. 

“Oh..Joel!” your moan is strained, punctuated with a gasp as you stretch around him, tenderly accomodating to his size. 

There isn’t much time to adjust before he’s rolling his hips and pulling back, pushing an exhale from your lungs when he thrusts back in, nudging deep. 

“Goddamnit, sweetheart. Look at you.” 

There’s so much reverence in his voice, big brown eyes sparking wide with pleasure, so much so you think he just might have forgotten about your earlier insolence. 

But then he’s pulling his hips back and snapping them forward roughly, setting a steady pace that has you panting and crying out, peering over your shoulder at him as he starts to pound into you. 

It’s a sight that makes you clench around him, your ass bouncing back against his hips, the muscles in his forearms, his biceps, tensing from the effort. 

You feel your mind going hazy but a sharp smack to your thigh catches your attention and you realize there’s nowhere for you to run as Joel curves over you.

“Uh uh, it’s not gonna be that easy. You wanted to be a brat so bad, now I’m gonna fuck you like one.”

The hand that had been on your hip smoothes up your back, gripping the back of your neck with a firm squeeze before letting his full weight drive his hips down hard. 

Your teeth bite at his covers, loud pleas and moans barely muffled as he finds that spot, the one that always makes tears well in your eyes. 

Joel relishes in how your body trembles when he keeps himself angled there, watching you choke out apologies and pleas for more all in the same breath, his handprints bound to leave bruises on your skin from the way he’s holding you.

He knows you’re already sensitive, and your body already spent from keeping yourself upright through his thrusts, ones that still weren’t faltering, but he also knew you liked that it hurt so good too. 

“Joel, please I’m gonna-” you begin to sob, feeling the pressure in your core deepen only for it to dissipate as you’re eased off his length a minute later. 

You let your body sink, collapsing onto your tummy with a defeated cry, turning around to face the man who so rudely denied you an orgasm, whatever valid reasonings he had be damned. 

Stepping out of his boots and jeans fully now, you open up to him completely, no longer shy about wanting this so bad, encouraged by how much he seemed to be having fun too, more arousal dripping from your swollen folds at the intensity, the security in knowing he’d take care of you. 

You’d pissed him off with all your sass but you knew he’d never push you past your limits and it’s why you give in so easily now. 

Coherent thoughts fade from your head when Joel finally pulls you down towards the edge of the bed by your ankles and moves between your legs to guide himself back inside you easily, rough hands shoving your thighs back towards your chest so he can split you open and watch as he does. 

Any sense of time or day melts away, your only focus being Joel, only able to feel him, what he’s doing to you, whimpering out curses and moans as he bounces you on his cock, thick fingers reaching down to find your clit. 

The bliss and the pressure build again, making everything hazy once more, eyes fluttering with each thrust now cause you’re too fucked out to concentrate on anything but how good he feels. 

But Joel is watching, studying the pretty faces and sounds you make, one of his hands quick to find its way into your hair again, grabbing a fistful and pulling firmly and slowly, tilting your head up so you can’t do anything but look at him.  

“No, no you focus, right here. Right here, darlin.” he grits out and clinging to his forearms is all you can do to keep yourself steady. 

His other hand leaves your clit to grip at your jaw for a moment, strong legs spearing his hips into you over and over all the while, the wet gush of your pussy taking everything he gives you makes heat settle in your cheeks and spread across your chest. 

Wrecked moans are swallowed by messy kisses, the prickly stubble of his beard against your neck driving you crazy. 

Everything about him makes you clench, your thighs threatening to tighten around his waist the more he gives you. 

But you wanted him to be mean and he hadn’t forgotten, delivering a few searing smacks across your inner thighs, a warning that told you to be good and keep them spread. 

“That’s it, now she’s learning ain’t she. Just needed me to fuck those disrespectful thoughts out of your head, huh.” 

“Yes, yes, fuck yes! Need it so bad!” your wanton cries make his teeth clench while your toes point and curl. 

Everything in you burns molten, succumbing to Joel’s coarser treatment, his fingers, his lips, his cock knowing all your sensitive points and playing to them expertly. 

There’s no reprieve, no break in how soundly he fucks you, the bedframe creaking noisily from the movement, both of you sweaty and breathless but loathe to stop, so much desire washing over you at the frenzied passion in the eyes of the only man that could touch you like this. 

It was everything you had been daydreaming and craving, sobbing into your palm by the time Joel finally let you have what you wanted. 

You came hard, the pleasure drawn out for so long the climax of it shattered you, leaving you feeling soft and weightless against the mattress as he chases his own release, finding it swiftly after you. 

-

It’s much later that you’re tucked against him, a dreamy and well satisfied tilt to your lips as you sink into his touch, those deadly, brilliant hands of his caressing soft circles into your skin, against the places he knows he gripped with force tonight. 

He checks in with you now and then, making sure the comedown doesn’t hit you too hard, only soft words and praise for you now, a few sweet kisses left along your shoulder as you drift in and out of sleep together, exhausted and content beyond words. 

In the quiet of his room you giggle that you swear you’ll never be such a brat to him again but even you can’t deny that if this was what the consequences were, you just might have to talk back to him more often. 

Joel knows it too, gleaming eyes narrowing as he warns that your wicked little mouth is next in line for a lesson if you so dared. 

Oh..well maybe you’d be catching an attitude again much sooner than you thought. 

---

A/N: Eeep it is here! This one took me some time to write just cause I feel like I get in my head about writing Joel correctly a lot of the time and with this including rougher sex it was a little bit of a struggle to write at times but I like how it turned out in the end and I hope this was steamy and fun and hot and that it feels real to the character too! Thank you so much for reading!

Let me know what you think, pls thirst with me!

some tags, no pressure! @eupheme @wyn-n-tonic @ozarkthedog @moreofem @fagen @black-fairy3 @persona-enthusiast @fluffyprettykitty @earlgreychiffon @tarrenterror25 @federalchickensoup @jolly-polly @inklore @babiiface95 @targaryenvampireslayer @chezamanda @simplykenni @allaboardthereadingrailroad

[carmyberzattosjournal]

Entry 14: A Portrait of Exhaustion

Screenshot Credit: @neverscreens

Bearblr Promptober Day 14: Somnophilia (Sub: Sleeping)

Summary: Carmy can't sleep after his panic attack, but his girlfriend can't sleep alone. She's more convincing than he is.

Warnings: Swearing, mentioned panic attack (no active panic attack in this one), insomnia, sleepy bean fem reader who is a trauma surgeon, snuggling, Carmy comforting reader, she/her pronouns, fluff.

Notes: All journal entries will be titled as such and tagged with #cb journal.

This is a two-parter. The first part is here.

Reblogs appreciated. Thank you to @carmenberzattosgf for putting together this prompt list.

14 Oct 2024

How the shit was I supposed to sleep after a panic attack?

It came in fits and bursts. Reality frayed apart between my apartment in Chicago, Michelle’s place in New York, The Bear and, Empire. I became aware of Darling’s attempts to soothe me several times, and, not wanting to plague her with awful sleep after such a long shift—and incoming work the next day—I crawled out of bed. Shuffled to the bathroom to splash cold water on my face, to push away the roiling memories of that broiling fucking kitchen. I was in Chicago, dammit. Chicago, my apartment.

My own reflection looked more dead than alive.

I was pale as shit. Maybe even a little green. The shadows around and under my eyes were deeper, had a blue or purple tone to them, made the blue in my eyes look dull, like it’d been through the wash ten too many times. Fuck, my hair was a mess. It didn’t even look curly anymore, it just looked fried. What did Darling say at the pumpkin patch? Crispy? Yeah, it looked crispy, wiry, reminiscent of a frayed line of twine or fucking pork floss. Might not have felt like it, but I needed some fucking sleep.

To the couch, then.

Terrible idea with a bad back anyway, but even worse when the only thing asserting any presence of reality was Darling’s hand between my shoulder blades. My stomach turned over repeatedly as I failed to fall into unconsciousness. I was both too sweaty and too cold at the same time, there was this strange burning sensation on my chest—bit like a bee sting, kept rubbing at it through my tank top. I’d drifted off a thousand times on that same couch over the last year-ish, but this time, I couldn’t find any way to be comfortable. First, it was my back, then the edge of the couch cushion digging into the very top of my hip, then my shoulder felt crunched up, then the pillow put my neck at a weird angle. The bedroom door creaked.

“Carmy?” she said from the hallway.

Well, now I just felt like an asshole for waking her up.

“Couch,” I croaked.

“Come back to bed.” She whined it. She was frustrated.

I thought about how I would convince her to go back to sleep without me. I could say I was wired. It wasn’t false—sleep was so far away I’d need a fucking map and compass to find it—but then, she’d just try to soothe me. Fucking hell, I get that I’m a fucking disaster, but do you have to burn yourself out over me? For what purpose? I feel shitty enough as a human as-is, I don’t need a fucking caretaker running herself into the ground on top of it.

“Come back to bed; I’m freezing.”

In retrospect, I find it both funny and intensely frustrating how fast I leapt off the couch and skittered to her after she said that. I’m over here thinking about how I don’t need a fucking caretaker, yet my girl mumbles once that she’s cold, and I completely forget every-fucking-thing happening with me because I gotta go take care of her. I have to make sure she’s okay, because if I do that, then I don’t have to think about any of my problems.

I’m a fucking hypocrite.

“I’m sorry, baby girl. I’m coming.” I rounded the hallway to see her slumped against the bedroom doorframe, a portrait of exhaustion in every sense of the word. Her knees were knocked together, foot toe-down and pressed into the rug to stretch the muscles in front of her shin, her shoulders were hunched, her arms hung limp at her sides. Her hair was in her face—almost completely obscuring it—and her eyes were closed. She swayed on the spot, and I darted forward to catch her.

“Woah, woah, hey! Hey.” She half-righted herself, half-leaned into me, resting her forehead against the crook of my neck. Her nose was cold. “Shit, you really are freezing…”

“Fuckin’… landlords…” She reached for the bedroom door for some reason. I don’t know, instinct to close it or something. I swung it shut and set her down on the bed. Swept her hair out of her face.

“Sorry, I kept waking you up. I just-I just wanted you to get some good rest.”

“Yeah, well. You’re the space heater right now,” she pouted.

Something twisted in my stomach. Fucking landlords. “I’m sorry, baby girl.”

She scooted back in bed to make room for me, patted the pillow. “And it scares me when you disappear like that.”

Scared her?

I crawled into bed, tucked her head under my chin, hooked her leg over my hip so I could rub her shin. Her cold little nose pressed against my skin as she kissed my collarbone. I tucked her arms between us to help her warm back up. Gathered the blanket up around her tighter.

“This is so comfy,” she mumbled, tightening her leg around me.

I couldn’t help but smile. “Yeah, it is.”

“No leaving again, please, sweetheart?”

I nodded. “Okay. Yeah, no leaving again. Why-why does it scare you when I go?”

She yawned again. “Sometimes, I have to remind myself that you’re real.”

Huh? “Wh-what do you mean?”

“I love you so much that you don’t feel real. Sometimes, I wonder if I’m going to wake up, and all of this will have been a dream.”

It must’ve been because I was still fried from freaking out—I don’t know. I can’t know. I won’t know. But whatever the reason, I asked, “Why do you love me?”

What kind of fucking question is that? Who asks that? And why would you ask that to someone whose mind is going numb from sheer fucking exhaustion? She should’ve told me to shut the fuck up and go to sleep, I’ll be honest, it’s what I fucking deserved. But no. No. She innocently delivered the kind of silent devastation that only words whispered into your skin when you’re seconds from shattering can. Her words didn’t hit me like a bullet to the heart, knife to the back, blow to the head, or a freight train, a semi, or a pickup truck. No, they sunk into my skin like a needle, only stinging for a fraction of a second before sleep mercy-killed me for the rest of the night. Left no marks the next day or the day after or the day after but had planted something deep in my soul that would fester, macerate, unearth gaping, open wounds in need of debridement and suturing. Darling didn’t know it yet—I didn’t know it yet—but she’d signed my death warrant with those words.

“What’s not to love?”

What’s not to love?

I change my mind about God. He does exist. And he’s a sadist.

[doodler16]

To HB credit, Brandon did the bulk of the writing for s1 and established that these characters are friends or at least chummy with each other. Than s2 happened and it’s been the stolas cry baby show ft fizz.

In HH none of the characters moments are earned. They all just sit (I swear to god there’s more time of them sitting and doing nothing than there is of them actually doing something) react to shit happening around them or wait for the story to happen. I don’t get friendship strangers who are forced to live with a coddled sheltered rich woman and her codependent gf. Angel and Cherri are established as “friends” but all Cherri did was call Angel a nerd for not taking drugs and caring too much for nifty. Didn’t do shit when valentino was hitting Angel. Husk is just there to guilt trip Angel for taking drug and being promiscuous, sir p gets shitted on by all these assholes I legit got mad when they cried and acted like they cared. (Fuck all of you, you didn’t treat sir p with respect) nifty is also just there to be funny, I guess. She didn’t make me laugh she got annoying real quick. Alastor is the worst fucking character, I don’t wanna get into a rant about him but he sucks so fuckimg hard. Angel is ok, would’ve been nicer if we saw him actually progress and if his “friends” cared he was getting SA’d on a daily basis but they don’t care, if they did we would get more poison mv. Vaggie exist to serve Charlie, which sucks because she had so much potential but she’s a nothing burger and Charlie is just a selfish brat who cries till people give her what she wants and tells her she’s great when she isn’t

Yeah, during season 1 Brandon carried in more ways than one especially guiding Vivziepop. Vivziepop admittedly has her moments in season 1 where she can read the room. Honestly, in retrospect for Helluva Boss season 1 and 2 regarding the IMP gang I see them being more chummy/tolerating each other than being friends.

They had their moments I will admit but most of the questionable stuff they do each other feels more out weighed than the good. Luciferanalyzestar and Tooningin say it best:

If Stolas and by extension Stoliz drama wasn’t hogging all the screen time, IMP could’ve been something more. As for Hazbin Hotel they can pretend all they want how close and how they care for each other but their actions and dialogue say otherwise. In the pilot and addict while Cherri was a bad influence in a different way, she had a heart of gold, and cared for Angel. Now in the show, she is shallow.

I guess Cherri Bomb is a nerd by her logic for caring about Angel Dust and trying to take care of him in Addict. Yeah, Angel Dust’s arc is super rushed and don’t get me started on the timeline of it, it’s extremely janky the more you think about it. The aftermath scene of Valentino and Angel Dust in episode 6 was crazy. Cherri and Husk didn’t even help, they just stood there then once Angel Dust walks away from Valentino, now these chumps want to do something and do the bare minimum by congratulating him.

If Angel Dust’s arc is rushed, then Sir Pentious is a background character. Not only was his character development nonexistent but no one attempted to helped him or even try to wonder where he was. They just forgot about him. The most tonal whiplash, Vivziepop love her cake and want to eat it too. Haha, Anons never change it’s so funny when y’all drag Charlie.

With Vaggie there is so much you can do with her character and story wise, it’s not even funny. She’s not even my favorite yet I can think of so much. If Vivziepop and writers are going to go with the direction like purposefully have be Charlie’s bootlicker only for her to realize she’s been following orders her own life then slowly does things outside of Charlie. Then Yeah, I would love that. I really hope isn’t completely static.

Series Alastor will always be a loser bum, but the fans will eat it up. I wouldn’t mind listening to some Alastor slander. 😗

[narenohate]

my golden guard! luz au is just kinda funny to me. she's so bad at it that god has to intervene so she stops fucking up.

context blast up there... or down here?

“Through me you go to the grief wracked city; Through me you go to everlasting pain; Through me you go a pass among lost souls. Justice inspired my exalted Creator: I am a creature of the Holiest Power, of Wisdom in the Highest and of Primal Love. Nothing till I was made was made, only eternal beings. And I endure eternally. Surrender as you enter, every hope you have.”

― Dante Alighieri, Inferno

-

Through the red he'd carried her. She remembers it in those minutes. It had just happened, hadn't it?

Why does it feel so long ago, if the pain of the broken rib and the warmth of her own cape still are felt, a residual ghost touch, as if her armor were an amputated limb?

Almost tender was that embrace even as she shook, each breath ripping the fight further and further away from her tight-fisted grip.

Every hair had stood on its end, the buzzing in the air ever-louder as her vision wavered, pain and fear battling for control over her conscious mind.

Each of her captor's steps feels like a stab to her chest.

There's a bloody exhale, preceding a breathless laugh. She feels the underside of his glove, leathery and worn, along her ribs.

She's disgusted by it now, she will forever be disgusted by it. She feels as if she's still in his grasp - she will never not be.

Luz had exhaled then, as she does now, and both times she coughed a mouthful of blood.

"Hush, now. We will be home soon." he told her and it echoes nw. "You had told me once… Your mother knows of medical practices, doesn't she?"

She rasps out;

"Don't bring her into this-" There's an edge of fear to her voice which she loathes, "Leave my mom alone."

"She would like to know her daughter was a hero, wouldn't she?" he asks, and it borders on genuine; "You've made mistakes-"

"Like you!" she regrets it in retrospect- it wouldn't have hurt so much if he hadn't squeezed her ribcage shut again then, to shut her up and hear nothing but her coughing blood.

He walked so slow. Agonizingly so, as if to stretch those last moments for eternity, cradling her somehow even closer, shifting her, knocking out of her lungs every last trace of a breath.

"The Titan greets us to his realm," he said, and against her cheek she felt the bobbing of his Adam's apple, nudging her in that moment to blink the tears from her eyes.

She feels her gaze pulled to it - this horrid doorway before which they linger taunts her for a brief moment, a sea of black tar streaked in deep blues and yellows.

And with a single step, the silence of it swallowed them whole. In the dark now, at least Luz could hear herself breathe-

Yet just as she did then, she smells it now;

Both times did she wheeze, fruitless, in an attempt to clear her sinuses from it. Titan's blood has a powerful, astringent, sulphuric smell.

It clung to her - maybe it is gone in the present because she simply got used to it.

"Clean up, lamb." he said, nudging her. He wanted her to take the edge of his cape, she understood. He made her bleed before - a tooth. The gap of it still stings.

"I hate you." she whispered.

That which surrounded her then was pure black, a realm where his steps slowed even further, dragged down by the brackish tar.

There was a light to guide them. She could not comprehend its source.

"I will help you get over it." he said, his words fading with no echo, as lost as their souls.

She loathed to know how he'd try. Pondered briefly if she'd clamp down on his neck with her teeth.

And then she questioned, to herself; could she even die here?

That which she doesn't know stings her.

A sound of anguish fought its way out of her.

And, though by that point she knows she had realized they were not all alone, Luz came to understand that nothing that heard her had turned to help.

In the dark, something moved. It was the hair standing on end, it was the light coming from nowhere.

She felt Belos move slower and slower. Did her eyes close? Or was the world simply so dark?

"Luz, quiet." she heard, and so still she became, nothing but the beat of her heart did she hear - for he'd sounded terrified.

Suddenly she understood, and it was clearer and brighter than the sun.

She heard it, paws heavy, wingtips dragging along the muck, and she understood it even before the smell of its rotting corpse reached them.

"Run."

That sets it off, alright.

The silence dies with that lonely word, whispered with bloody and bated breath.

It tore through the air and filled up her ears with a high-pitched ringing sound; A roar like she'd never heard before spelled their fate, set off the hammering of the chase;

In the dark, the mud rippled. The smell of rotting flesh and mold made her dizzy, pulled from Belos some sort of angry shout, that which was lost in the cacophony of the chase as soon as he let it out.

She only felt it from how close she was to his throat.

For once he'd obeyed, for once he'd heard a plea from her.

It mattered not.

To the ground they fell, and to her skin it clung, sticky and thick, pungent in smell, so terrible that Luz could taste it as she breathed in with an open mouth.

It slowed down its chase, and catch its breath it did not, though all around her in a circle did she feel its footsteps, rippling along the mud.

Along with their fate, it brought the light.

At first her vision's return was the catalyst for nothing but Belos' hand grasping onto hers, his eyes wide and teary as he pulled her close…

And then pushed her in front of him, almost, as their Lord fell upon shared view.

Luz thought, for a moment, that the sun perched between its horns would be a light shining upon a clean skull - for very clearly did she know what a Titan ought to look like;

And that was nothing of it.

Its skull was at first like shifting sand, but as her eyes focused on that white thing, Luz's mouth fell agape;

God's face was almost fully made of maggots. They blended with god's bones, the same color, separated only by the shadows Its Light cast upon its own visage.

It pushed against her head. It is God. It is the Devil. It is, for a second between her tears, her father in a hospital gown, the tubes coming from his nose like over-engorged, misplaced tapeworms.

Its flesh rippled as it got closer to them, something crawling in it. Clumps of oily black fur, strands clinging to greenish, gangrenous wounds.

Bile rose to the back of her throat just then, as her gaze drifted to the cut which sliced its chest open, and found nothing inside.

She knelt.

it was no conscious choice. She was told, and though she obeyed, never did she hear the order.

She opened her mouth, but instead of pleas, blood was all that flowed.

When the light is cast upon it, the red is all too bright, for the brief moment before Limbo swallows it.

The thing she looked up at was not her mother's God.

Padre Nostro rang in her ears nonetheless, Belos' hoarse voice praying under its rushed breath.

It let her look at him, pushed oh-how-pathetic-is-this-really-all-you-settled-for through her mind; Though he knelt, it was not without struggle.

He fought back, thrashing against the invisible binding which Luz found didn't truly hold her down.

God's understanding of her pushed the brain against the sides of the skull. She knew then that the little barriers between the bone and the skin and the brain were all shaky and jittery.

Out the deepest breath, a shaky hand reached out almost gleeful, and between her fingers she gripped his hair.

Not a word was said. Luz refused to let her eyes shut from the pain, even as it grew, for she had for very long wished for this;

With strength she hadn't known she had, she pushed Belos' head onto the mud.

Bow she did not, when she tasted her blood all over her mouth. She let it stain his cape and his hair.

It dripped and dripped. There came a muffled plea. She knew he told her this would not last. She also knew, without rhyme nor reason to explain it, that he'd remember this.

And yet, she kept pushing.

There was darkness creeping in slowly, overcoming the edges of her vision.

And yet, she kept pushing.

And for an eternity, she held him there. In the dim and the quiet, where it was only their breath and the buzzing of the flies and the smell of rotting flesh, she was reminded, bitter and vengeful, of their shared chambers.

She kept his head under the mud until he stopped thrashing.

Almost against her will, her head tilted up, and she met it eye to eye. Such a solution was hardly even temporary, she knew, and it knew as well, as it stared back.

Its eyes were empty sockets, yet she knew it saw her.

A blind thing could not hold such a hateful gaze.

Oh, what she'd done; Such small revenge for such grandiose malice.

The pressure of its words filled her mouth with copper.

It is dying. Its last breaths are being wasted here, with Its killers.

It is pain and desolation, it is hatred, and it is something too quiet to be wrath as she'd call it.

God knelt. It was Helios before, it was Nhanderu before, it was Kronos as Horus and a thousand other voices in name.

Luz heard screaming. Much louder, much more than just her own, though her throat hurt and she knew she was part of that unseen cacophony.

Her eyes could not shift from the maggots. Closer, closer, came a hypnotic dance as Luz dragged her body on its hands and knees.

For a second she did not understand it; And then, as her face rested against the pale bone of a snout, so cold it stung, it came to be that she knew it; the last shred of its power, the last bite of its plate - The last name of this God.

To know it was the same as her own overwhelmed her with a foreign, resentful grief.

An oversized paw tilted up her head with only its claw.

God held the sun between its horns. She stared transfixed, and laid trembling fingers over its talon, fruitlessly trying to keep its tender, cold touch.

Its wings spread open, a membrane full of holes and veins.

Which of them screamed? She wasn't sure. Everything faded, except for the sun, and the paw which was raised up to it, gripping onto the flame; Though its shape changed, its glow never dimmed. It was sharp and jagged. It was God.

And then, God stabbed the soft spot where spine snaps into skull.

-

Luz Noceda breathes in. That's the first sign that something is terribly, horribly wrong.

The second one? It's not the pain, but instead the fact that she can hear again, see again-

And her god is nowhere to be seen nor found.

She is doubled over. Her skin is opening up. The base of her skull, where God killed itself and killed her too, is on fire.

A whimper slips off with her breath, but with the next inhale, it turns into a cough. Her rib- no. It's further. It's more.

Everything is too much - she is light and defenseless, armor lost somewhere in this battlefield, and she is soft and shaky, hand on her chest, reaching for where it hurts. She knows something clattered to the floor when she awoke.

And then she remembers Belos.

Painfully, she manages to pry her eyes open, and figures that the thing on the floor – clean wood, worn out, its polish long faded – is an Azura figurine.

The cheap plastic meets her grimace with a blank, crooked, off-the-mold smile.

Her ears are buzzing. Did her brain hatch into flies?

"Mija, did you choke?"

At first hardly do those words register. But then, she realizes she had not been sure of whether or not her little stunt killed the emperor.

So she forces her spine to straighten, turns her head to face her mother.

She looks the same as she did a year ago, when she left Luz at the bus station to go to a summer camp- she looks the same as when Luz abandoned her.

The piercing burn of the blade stays, a cloying reminder of the mantle which befell her that day.

Though she is not there, Luz knows, clear as day:

Elsewhere, far away, at this moment, in a throne room occupied by only a grimwalker, sitting at the foot of both his metamorphosis, his death, and the throne of the emperor which he worships, the heart of a Titan with a thousand names stops beating.

[fefairys]

it is so tricky recommending people read the homestuck author annotations because on the one hand there is a lot of really genuinely insightful stuff in there that helps you perhaps peer into the intent and the process behind some of the choices. but on the other hand sometimes hussie likes to get ironic and satirical with little signaling of when that is happening. sometimes it is hard to tell the difference between when they’re being serious and when they’re just being obtuse and bullshitting or just making a stupid joke.

i saw someone tag one of the quotes i shared as “wow i’ve never seen hussie criticize vriska before” no no he does it all the time! but the thing is they OFTEN do it in a backwards way where they state something bad vriska did and then commend her for it. like. as a “joke”. this is especially true when tavros is in the picture, where they will also bash tavros for being a loser and “deserving” what vriska does to him. in *my* view, this is all satire, making fun of the way some overzealous vriska stans feel on the matter. they like vriska as character, and then they fall into the trap of looking past her transgressions and putting her on a pedestal and therefore putting tavros on a like… reverse pedestal where he sucks and is the worst for no reason. and hussie likes playing into this in the annotations.

but a lot of times, when tavros isn’t on screen and it is say, vriska and terezi, or vriska and john, hussie will actually get real for a second and drop the act and actually talk about how fucked up vriska is.

hussie doesn’t like vriska because they literally excuse her actions, they like vriska because she drives the story and stirs controversy among both the characters and the fans. that’s also why they like to pretend to excuse and even support her actions: it’s controversial. they love to get a rise out of people. but they state this in the notes CONSTANTLY that vriska is their favorite because of the controversy she creates.

this is also how hussie tends to talk about themselves in the notes. they state a writing choice that was maybe awkward or not well thought out and then bend over backwards to justify it and say how great they are, actually, for making that choice. “and you’re stupid if you thought it was a bad choice btw. i am always right.” like come on. that’s funny. they don’t actually believe that, they’re being FUNNY about writing decisions that they second-guess in retrospect.

another thing that makes it hard to recommend the homestuck author notes is the incest jokes.

but looking past that, the annotations genuinely offer a lot of insight about certain narrative and character choices and are, on a whole, a very good and interesting read. you just have to be prepared for ableist “jokes” and weird comments about incest :/

[whoslaurapalmer]

okay wait I have some omitb s4 ending thoughts, spoilers

-marshall's thing of 'am I a writer or am I a killer? maybe I have to be a killer to be a writer' was actually VERY tasty chewy but literally only existed for five minutes before he died. like, there could have (and SHOULD have) been sooooo much more build up to that, and I'm so disappointed!!!!!

-backtracking a moment, I loved seeing ron howard in episode 9 omg. ron howard miming slurping soup!!!!!!!!!!

- "don't TALK about the FISHING HOLE" as someone who still watches the occasional andy griffith rerun (as we all should) that was so fucking funny. holy fuck

-ANYWAY

-overwhelmingly omitb is a show that has a great, really fun and exciting buildup but the finales tend to fall a little flat, and with s1+2 I didn't mind, like that's not inherently bad -- it's a comedy murder mystery, it's allowed to be a little off and not completely clean in the plot!! it's okay!! (s2 is my top fav and I think the tightest and even I admit '14 sandwich' was a bizarre move.) and s3 was more Meh to me but still, fine, but s4......this ending was not doing it. and this season overall I really felt the holes in the writing style. Idk if it was the strike last summer? or if they are writing SO MUCH by the seat of their pants that it is starting to turn out much weaker than previous seasons. so many bad writing choices that make no sense in retrospect with the killer, things that were brought up purposely again and then never addressed so they're still unresolved, threads and implications (especially tied back to s3) that went NOWHERE, like i thought there was a real sense of, the writers trying to figure out their own story as they went along and not being able to do it successfully, I didn't feel like any of it was planned in the way like, jan's bassoon cleaner was in s1

-and even if that too was a 'figure it out as they went along' thing, that one still worked and felt more solid than whatever this season was doing!!!!!

-but I feel this way about the characters too -- s3 and s4 have still had gorgeous character moments but I feel like the writers have lost track of character arcs, ESPECIALLY oliver's

-I actually think it would have been more narratively satisfying for oliver to NOT marry, to recognize that he doesn't need to marry to be happy after his first "failed" marriage

-but I also think charles and oliver should get together at all times. so.

(-DONT ACT LIKE STEVE MARTIN AND MARTIN SHORT WOULD NOT WILLINGLY DO IT)

-THE FUCKING EMERGENCY CONTACT CONVO 😭😭

-I don't mind loretta, I like loretta's character, but I just don't dig her with oliver and I think their romance and keeping her on was a mistake, clearly evidenced by needing to write meryl off bc of I'm assuming upcoming scheduling conflicts and SENDING LORETTA TO NEW ZEALAND like..............what.......

-it was nice to have recognition of how much charles and mabel mean to oliver, but I feel like in s3+4 they've been so disjointed as a group and still haven't found that solid footing again. especially the way oliver treated mabel, in both seasons

(-was nice to see dickie and will at the wedding, though. that was sweet :) and winnie!!!!!)

-and mabel has such relatable moments esp re: being this floating adult trying to find her place but a lot of that. is going nowhere

-omitb is not an overwhelmingly dark show (even with having some super heavy moments this season) but charles being 100% ready to kill marshall???????????? incredible

-a big letdown in s3 for me was that charles threatening ben at the end of s2 was done so disappointingly when the reason finally was revealed in s3. that was just over loretta???? made no sense for charles to look THAT intense about it.

-they set up such an exciting idea and then!!!!!!!!!!! the execution!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

-so I mean like the show has these really exciting dark charles moments (LET OLD STEVE MARTIN DO THE BEST DRAMATIC ACTING OF HIS LIFE GODDDDDDDDDDD!!) but almost killing marshall will likely never amount to anything.

-...............although.............

-jan being the one to shoot marshall and still insisting she and charles were endgame. food for thought......

-yeah but are the writers and I eating the same meal. you know?? we are eating at different genre restaurants.

-and again, it's a fun show that delights in being fun, and that's fine!!!

-this season was just. sigh.

-also I miss theo. love theo.

-BUT LESTER????????????????? BEING THE ONE TO DIE??????????? AFTER TALKING ABOUT HOW HE GOT MARRIED NEAR THAT FOUNTAIN???????????

-lester :(

-so I'm intrigued to see how this pans out esp w it being the presumed last season (bc steve martin has said the plan was always for five) but I'm also. will it be satisfying..............

-ALSO TEA LEONI???????????? gorgeous. very exciting to see her and definitely intrigued re: the mob thing.

-I thought a good s5 plan would be like, hints dropped in s4 that sazz had somehow uncovered a cold case (the one charles and oliver bring up at the end of s3 I think?) (would have made the notes in her apartment make more sense than WRITING A SCREENPLAY) (not awful but. sigh.) and whoever was responsible for that was the one who had poisoned winnie/sent the s1 notes/etc, like that would be a really well-rounded ending plot, I thought, but now idk

[hermit-pride]

"Hopelessly broken but also, it’s fine?"

Day: 17.

I relate to the question but for me it is in retrospect. I have known most of my life that I was different. It took a psychologist testing me for ADHD to begin the realization that my whole uniqueness was for a reason and has a label. At age 63 the knowledge came to me that I have multiple schizoid traits and would be diagnosed as SzPD according to the DSM-5 if I could find a professional who actually knows shit about the disorder. I've seen two psychologists. The first said I am not dysfunctional enough to be diagnosed with the personality disorder. Of course, she specializes in diagnosing ADHD and knows nothing of masking. The second psychologist said that I'm probably autistic since he believes that most are misdiagnosed as SzPD are actually autistic. I did an exhaustive study of the spectrum and am certainly not autistic.

But as the first PhD intimated , "I can use this information to understand my personality better". Certainly true. I had never thought about it before but I've never had a close friend except for my wife. When I was a teen I might become interested in a girl--until she wanted to become emotionally connected to me. Then I'd run for the hills. I've never developed an emotional attachment to family members, except the family members who were pets. I never am particularly happy, sad, or mad. My world is in black and white. I find things either agreeable or disagreeable. Good or bad. I haven't cried since childhood although I did cry (without the emotion) a couple of times over the years when it was expected of me. I'm not sexually attracted to others. I do feel attracted to people but it's an admiration or appreciation. I have odd crushes with teammates. One was a new nurse that had thick blond hair down to her ass. She always had it meticulously braided in one way or another and she is as sweet as a daisy. A couple months ago it was gone😒. She had donated it to make wigs for cancer patients. (Ok, I still love her). But I've never had a sexual though about her. Another was a nurse with brown hair. Braided or in some other attractive coiffure. What's more she has a quick whit. She doesn't say much but she has spot on remarks that are inwhitty, smart, and funny. I'm still in love with her. I really do love all my teammates but have zero connection to them emotionally. I have a hard time remembering everyone's names, if the are single or married, if they have children or not.

So maybe the whole, "who they are" is part of my fantasy world that I live in as a schizoid. And as Peeta Mellark struggled with what is real and what is not, I often have to make an effort to keep the distinction solid.

I guess I'm a pragmatist and understand that my life could have been much worse and wasn't that bad. I've got lots of good memories of my childhood although the majority were alone activities. And my schizoid defenses have walled off the details of various traumas such as the summer I was sexually abused by a adult male who would've hopefully died in jail if my parents had stuck up for me and prosecuted him. He actually confessed and was allowed to leave town with his tale between his legs and as far as I know never faced legal action. He was a 5th grade teacher at my school. I couldn't have been his only toy. Stan Hixon would be 80. Somehow, I can't bring myself to hate the sick fucking pedophile pile of shit...

I only remember the first interaction though it lasted much of the summer that I was nine. He taught me to jack him off. I had never seen someone cum. I was fascinated and felt no danger or guilt though I certainly should have.

My life has turned out OK and I'm at peace with the things I can't do, feel or say. I don't seek professional help because there is no fixing me. Perhaps therapy would help someone like me if they were able to become motivated. Especially the last few years, my avolition has affected me. I have no hobbies, no social life, and don't even attend church anymore. My ONLY motivation is anything related to preserving my autonomy. And I like helping others. I guess that helps when you are an RN🤍💛.

[winterswhite]

Some of my thoughts after rereading the A3! prologue:

Resisting every urge to point out interesting things I'm noticing in A3EN's localization of the prologue with 3.5 more years of Japanese knowledge, this is a reading club, not a translation club

Why is this the only instance of pink text in the game? I think it's really funny how they highlighted important lines in pink here and then proceeded to never do that again

Logistically I know it was only done here as a way of introducing the player to things and it has no real place anywhere else in the story, but it's still funny

Tsuzuru not catching on about the street act is so cute www

I love how you can tell from this very first interaction between Tasuku and Haruto, and then between Haruto and Tsuzuru, that Godza is a kinda messy environment behind the scenes

In retrospect, this was so fucked up of Izumi's mom (I didn't think anything of it back then, but with the knowledge I have now... whew)

hE RECOGNIZES HER

"KYAAAAAAAAA"

BACKHOE

I think it's so interesting that Sakoda was able to get a permit for the backhoe? It's something so small but I think it's fun how we see here that he has the skill needed to safely operate heavy machinery even though he's often seen as someone who isn't good at much of anything, so it really just comes down to his life circumstances more than his actual ability (I mean the kid's just being taught to read at a third grade level, and it's not his fault)

Pictured: The moment it was over for me

This whole scene is such a mess

The way Sakyo implies there have been other plays recently?? If this is Sakuya's first show, how did those work?

Oh Sakuya sounds so awkward it's hard to watch. Shoutout to Sakai for achieving that

Izumi's thoughts as she watches Sakuya perform hit different knowing about her own failures and experiences with theater

This line always, always gets me. Hard work alone doesn't amount to crap in this world. It never did for him. His mother worked so hard and yet they were poor, he worked hard and could never achieve his own goals... hard work never earned him anything. If it did, maybe he could've stood on this stage, too. Maybe Mankai wouldn't have reached this point. Maybe we wouldn't be here.

Honestly, everything here shows how much Sakyo loves Mankai and how hurt he is too

This conversation between Sakyo and Matsukawa is so much, they both care so much about the theater but Matsukawa is so desperately latching onto it while Sakyo has resigned himself to its fate, he's all but given up (just like he has on himself lol <- in pain)

Oh boy Yukio mention (the way he haunts the narrative is so much)

It's funny that Sakyo takes that jab at Matsukawa for wanting to lean on Yukio and count on him to single-handedly save Mankai, considering what he just said about hard work. If Yukio can't be relied on as the "savior" of Mankai (all the actors need to come back and everything needs to be the way it was before) and hard work alone won't do it either... he really has lost hope

Sakyo you fucking tsundere

You're the boss, boss!

Something something Izumi about to lose the last connection she has to her father even if it's not one she ever really had much of a part in before

Oh Izumi you're so bad at this

Sakyo is Not taking this (meanwhile, Matsukawa...) I do appreciate how he still gave her a chance though, however small it was

Honestly I feel bad for Matsukawa here, knowing how he's been trying so desperately just to keep the troupe afloat for eight years even though it clearly hasn't been going well

Obviously there was no way to fit this into the English localization, but I love how Sakuya introduces himself and then tells Izumi how to spell his name in kanji because of the many different ways it can be written (花の咲くの咲也です！)

I also really appreciate Izumi as a character and how real she feels right from the very beginning, from her interest in theater to her hammy acting to her quick thinking skills

Matsukawa you've been at this for years... (also I'm curious about Izumi's old troupe)

I didn't care much for Sakuya when I first read this story, but knowing all that I do about him now, this is all so endearing... he's so sweet in how he's comforting Izumi and checking in on her (and his whole thing about not wanting to lose the troupe hurts)

"Might as well fail like men!" thank you for the encouragement Matsukawa

I honestly think there's so much to be said about Masumi's character right from the beginning, like with him repeatedly asking how his acting was

Tsuzuru the biggest "struggling uni student" mood

Oh Masumi's line about just taking anyone hits so different in Japanese... Maybe I'm just not as good at picking up on certain types of slang and innuendo, but his wording is so much more... questionable in Japanese, that double meaning cannot be ignored.

Oh god I'm thinking about the A3 timeline again. I will once again try to push it back into the furthest depths of my mind because there clearly is no such thing as "time" in this universe and trying to figure it out has given me headaches before.

[towlerknows]

Harry is not who you think he was because Taylor says he was sleeping with a ton of women? I mean that’s been the party line for years (and I’m open to believing it) but get that is a change if you have always believed he is gay and hated being called a womanizer.

I think Harry is queer but I don’t really have an issue thinking Harry/Taylor actually hooked up (even on/off and stopped when she got with Calvin) in addition to doing the PR song and dance. These songs scream she was mad he was paying attention to anyone else (which, fair, she is beyond special). But I’m not going to take her lyrics as 100% truth when it feels like a lot of this is melodramatics (throwing herself off buildings?) when she was annoyed he had the nerve to be seen out with other hot women. And turning the “slut shaming” narrative around to him is also fair play and well done considering how the media treated their real or perceived conquests individually.

No. Harry's not who I thought he was because over the last 5 years, I've found him increasingly assholish and only appealing when he's projecting his stage persona.

I gave him the benefit of the doubt in 2013 when he broke up with/ended a contract with/whatever with Taylor and posted a picture laughing in a hot tub with a bunch of pasty white guys while she left on a boat by herself.

No matter what, that was a humiliating moment for her and we laughed.

We laughed that on New Year's Eve he avoided her until the very last minute, gave her a half-assed kiss at midnight in front of the whole world and looked like he would rather die. We thought that was him signaling his unhappiness with being forced to be with her.

What it was was him being a fucking jackass to her for no good reason. Again, no matter what the situation was, he was being a jerk.

He has been a jerk to every single woman he's been intentionally linked to. "I've never dated anyone publicly, just because we're seen together doesn't mean it's a relationship" he says a year into his relationship with Olivia Wilde whose name he got tattooed on his balls upper leg.

I can't stand her either, but that was shitty. He was incredibly shitty to her for TWO YEARS and because we didn't like her we thought it was funny. Was it real? I don't know. Maybe not, but he sure took every possible opportunity to make it look as fake and himself as disinterested as possible while it was happening. And in retrospect, I'm pretty disgusted by that.

I don't feel bad for Olivia, I can't stand the woman, but I do think this behavior is a pattern for Harry and frankly, I find it kind of repulsive now that I'm seeing it's happened repeatedly. When I thought it was mean old management controlling our poor baby, it was one thing. But "mean old management" doesn't have that kind of control now and we're lying to ourselves if we pretend they do.

So yeah, I don't hate him, he'll always have a place in my heart, but I don't like who he's become or perhaps I should say, who he has been showing us he is.

[coldslaws]

idk if any of you remember the mental hospital au i spoke about like once or twice here but here's an (old) writing drabble i did for it once

"Alright. Call me tomorrow, will ya? Gets boring in here." Grimsley let out a slow sigh after hanging the wall phone back up. Thirty minutes is much faster than he thought. He was about to go sit himself back down, maybe play a game of cards, when the main doors beside him suddenly unlocked. He raised an eyebrow and took a step back, crossing his arms. It wasn't time for a shift change, so..

Into the room shuffled a lanky man, both staff members Drayden and Alder at his side. He couldn't have been older than his 20s, looking rather despondent as he was pulled inside, his head bowed and arms wrapped around himself. Grimsley paused. He seemed familiar, but without him lifting his head, he couldn't get a good look at the guy at all. He watched them go by, headed for the rooms back behind the main area.

He must've stared too long. The stranger, noticing his gaze, suddenly raised his head to shoot him a biting glare. His eyes were rather flat and cold, enough so to make Grimsley's stomach turn slightly.

... But hey, he did get to see his face because of it.

That was Team Plasma's king, N.

Oh fuck.

Grimsley reeled away from the three, flashing a nervous grin in response to N's harsh glare. He excused himself to go back to the table he sat at with his friend, Emmet, but not before looking at N one more time; strangely frail-looking, like he had no spirit left in him. Maybe that was the case.. and judging by the firm grip Drayden and Alder had on the man's arms, he must've been one hell of an attempted escape artist. Alder never held onto patients like that otherwise.

"Wanna bet on how soon that guy's gonna make a break for it once they let go?" Grimsley asked quietly as he made it back to his table, flopping down in his seat. The action caused Emmet's growing card tower to fall down, making him huff at Grimsley.

"Hm, no. I am Emmet. I will get in trouble for betting with you." He replied plainly, ushering his fallen cards into one stack. He glanced over at N just moments before he disappeared from sight with staff.

"Jeez. Live a little, will you?" He leaned back in his chair with an eye roll, only to scoff loudly as Emmet made a show of checking his own pulse in front of him.

"It seems that I'm still living."

"Oh, Zekrom's sake," Grimsley muttered. "Well, whatever. Did you see that guy, though? That's.. the leader of Team Plasma, right? They finally got him?"

"Apparently so. Another evil team leader in this facility.. Seems like a bad idea, yup yup."

"Yeah, no kidding. He's fucking creepy too. Even tried to kill me a few months ago."

Emmet snickered softly in morbid amusement. What? It was kind of funny in retrospect. Not when it happened, of course. "He tried to kill everyone at some point. I feel verrrrry sorry for whoever has to share a room with him!"

A staff member's voice piped up from across the room. Cynthia. She was in the middle of putting her radio back on her hip when she called to him. "Emmet?"

"I am Emm-"

"You will be sharing your room with the new patient, N. I hope that's alright."

"... ah."

[haileydilmore]

okay so i have Thoughts after finishing watching it

pete is so aggressively normal in comparison to the rest of them (the high schoolers) and i love that for him. and like maybe stephanie is fairly normal too. but pretty girls scare me.

i don't know what high schoolers are like cause i dropped out when i was 12 so this might as well be what high school is really like. i'm going to pretend it is.

the telemarketer x ruth gag got me every time.

i NEED a backstory on max jägerman. i feel like he has the potential to be such a complex character

i love being alive! fucking dies might be one of my favorite moments

for 0.1 secs i really had hope nothing bad would happen, because max misread their intentions in luring him to the waylon place. i was like "omg he probably has his own problems and maybe he could be The Redeemed Character and everyone will get along" but no. in retrospect it was stupid to think that but eh.

why did ruth die??? i liked her sm omg. misery wretchedness despair and hellfire on planet earth T-T

not the barista spitting in pete's cup. i hate that that made me physically ill. this is why i don't go outside

"are you a woman of faith?" "catholic." "i'll take that as a no." fucking killed me omg.

as someone who used to be devoutly christian, grace is so relatable but disturbing to watch in equal measures. the guilt, the 'divine retribution' she thinks she's meting out, the justifications, the repression, just chef's kiss. like i get that it's played off as a humorous gag like half the time and it IS funny but it's also so so serious to me.

i thought they were gonna make grace give up her bible as the thing she treasured most but i guess the way things went makes more sense

are we ever gonna get more info on the lords in black? cause i feel like they were way too interesting and full of potential for the tiny amount of screen time they got.

i am headcanon-ing at LEAST half of em as aro, trans, or both and no one can stop me

ms tessburger is so pretty i fear she is sooo my type it's not even funny anymore i want her to sit on my face what who said that

YEYSYYSYS HOLY SHIT YOU GET IT!!!!! YOUG ET IT SOOOO HARD OMG!!!!! YOU UNDERSTAND IT SOOOOO HARD ITS CRAZY YAYAYAYAYAYYAYAYAYAYAYAA

ESPECIALLY regarding grace & the aro hcs

and do NOT worry, the lib are like a HUGE theme in nightmare time & the other musicals

the miss tessburger thing is so insanely fucking real. i literally need her so bad

[invinciblerodent]

Even though I'm barely 5-6 hours into this playthrough so far, playing a character like Iona, who is genuinely cunning and insightful (she has to be, with her 17 cha and her insight- and persuasion proficiency), is already proving to be such a fun way to do the Astarion romance.

I was just reviewing the "stargazing" scene I recorded today, and I felt it in the moment too, but especially in retrospect, it's so clear that her genuine charisma just always keeps him slightly off-balance.

He goes systematically through the routines, the tried and true methods (doing something that's generally considered romantic like stargazing, draping himself onto a bedroll in a casual, but inviting, seductive pose, weirdly negging her about her chin?? which is honestly just funny??, standing just a touch too close, giving her a taste of interest but withdrawing immediately, etc.), only.... none of them seem to stick.

At one point he clearly thinks he has her, when she all but purrs about how they should get to know each other, and he seems to take it at face value, ready to pull back to keep her interest, but then.... she laughs???? And tells him she was joking???? His face, for a split second there, it looks so.... blank. The smirk melts off immediately.

This weird look, there for less than a second, is so telling. Especially with the following line being a hollow laugh and a "Hm? Yes! Of course, me too."

(C'mon, we both know you were not joking. I can see the "....shit" behind your eyes.)

Then he excuses himself immediately, and you can almost hear the "WHAT the absolute FUCK was THAT." rushing through his head.

Like... he sees that she's toying with him, calling his bluff, and yet, she doesn't push back, and does it in such a playful manner, one he might even call.... nice??? Is she being nice to him, for failing to seduce her??? Hells, she finds the empty flattery funny, rather than insulting???

Even early on, it really seems as if he's trying to hold onto his playbook, but with a character like her, whose charisma is natural rather than learned, it just... falls flat, it doesn't work. But it also kind of does, because she seems... entertained? Interested? It's frustrating how he can't seem to get a bead on her, yet there's also a little something about this weird uncertainty that makes the game... almost fun for him too. For the first time in a long time, she's not just a target, but she meets him halfway, if not a step ahead.

Her reactions are actually unpredictable, even this early. He tried and failed to trick her, and instead of being furious, it's as if she's egging him on. Instead of "stop that", she's saying "you can do better".

So far, Iona thinks that the reason for all this flattery and coyness is literally just that he's a man with a slightly over-inflated ego, who finds her attractive and wants to get into her pants, but thinks her simple enough to believe his pretty, practiced words. It wouldn't be the first time, and it wouldn't be the last. And she's willing to entertain his game, because, well, why not, you know? It's not like he's bad to look at, or like she's looking for a relationship (she just got out of a 35 year one by setting her house and husband on fire for gods' sakes), sleeping with another be-tadpoled adventurer would just be a bit of mutually beneficial, convenient fun.

It'll not be until the Shadowlands and the whole mess there that she realizes it wasn't "mutually beneficial" at all. That he told her pretty lies, but not because he wanted her to spread her legs, but because he wanted to be important to her- so that she'll protect him.

Gah, this relationship is going to be so fun to roleplay. I'm already having such a good time with it.

There is a Lous and the Yakuza song, "Masquerade", that I keep thinking about with them. Especially the part where it repeats the line "Before you'd speak to me/take off your mask" in French and Spanish in a kind of back and forth, which I feel really works for them.

[brookstolemybrand]

More ranting about Bonney but this time it's about the actual Bonney haters

Not to name any names but certain people on a certain Discord server were complaining SO MUCH about Bonney being supposedly annoying and selfish in early Egghead arc, mainly because of how she treats Stella and how she "refuses to listen to his explanations", so I went back and reread it and my conclusion is that y'all are so full of shit

Firstly, that scene is hilarious

Secondly, I fully sympathise with her, because that is some absurd bullshit right there. I wouldn't believe Vegapunk either. You can say that you would totally listen to someone if they told you they had a "really good reason" to kill your dad but they "can't tell you why"... but I frankly don't believe you

The normal human reaction to hearing something like that is to get angry

And she DOES listen to him actually! It's just that he doesn't tell her shit! He's just making bad excuses!

Sure in retrospect we know that he's telling the truth but only because this is an absolutely absurd and unreasonable situation

It's not her fault she doesn't believe him, he's acting extremely suspicious

And he literally killed her dad

He admitted to killing her dad

Not to mention that she must feel so utterly betrayed after thinking that she could trust this man

But no, apparently this just makes her selfish and stupid and annoying, because she got mad at the guy who killed her father

Also someone was complaining about her putting everyone in danger, but she had absolutely no way of knowing there was a crisis going on, she was unconscious during the CP0 attack and she couldn't have known about York. It's an absurd accusation to make

Not to mention that even if she did know, why should she care? As far as she knows the people on the island are her enemies. Most of them working for the government and the rest are part of a rival pirate crew

(But she also definitely didn't know so it's a moot point)

And no you don't have to know that she's twelve to understand and sympathise with her feelings here

She's not being "childish", she's perfectly right to be angry and suspicious

idk if this is just straight up misogyny or what

Either way they can all fuck off

I'm so tired of people calling female characters annoying over the most reasonable emotional reactions

I'm tired of people finding it funny or endearing when it's male characters doing similar things

And as it turns out Vegapunk IS still partially responsible for Kuma's death, he DID pull the lever. Let's be clear: the Just Following Orders excuse is a terrible argument for government mandated murder, and Bonney and Kuma are both actually way too forgiving about it

[choices-binglebonkus]

With The Phantom Agent ending tomorrow (today technically, it’s midnight where I am) I’d like to do a little retrospective on the book by listing ten things it did right and ten things it did wrong. In my opinion, anyway.

#10 Right: The soundtrack. All of the music in this one is really good. I could listen to it for hours and not get tired of it. Very well done.

#10 Wrong: The pacing. I honestly can’t even really explain the issues I have with this story’s pacing. It feels very fast-paced but also really slow and glacial at the same time. I don’t know why that is, but I don’t like it.

#9 Right: The outfits. The outfits are generally very cute, except for the fem!MC’s “cold weather” outfit that exposes their midriff. Barring that one, the rest of the outfits are either pleasant or actually cute.

#9 Wrong: Lack of characters. A lot of modern stories have a pretty severe lack of major characters, this one included. The only major characters are the MC, Agent Gray, Vivian, and the Architect and the Contractor/Rowan but those are antagonists we don’t spend much time with. To have a small cast of characters, the few you do have need to be interesting enough to make up for the lack of other characters, and imo, the only interesting one of our group is Vivian. Which conveniently leads me to my next point, actually.

#8 Right: Vivian. No one else seems to like Vivian but I do. She’s pretty, funny, and she is a BEAST. I would pay 30 diamonds to give her back surgery because her back is probably fucked the hell up from carrying the entire mission. And even better, she’s not a reused character sprite! Hell yes!

#8 Wrong: The hookups. I may be in a minority here, but I didn’t enjoy any of the hookups. The only one I actually liked was Rowan’s, but the rest were very unimpressive.

#7 Right: The MC’s pronouns. Any story that includes GOC and pronouns is automatically that much better.

#7 Wrong: The MC. The MC was so incompetent at their job GAIA eventually thought they were a traitor when Rowan was revealed to be alive, in addition to being obnoxious and annoying throughout the entire book. Anyone who’s played Choices knows that if the MC is an unbearable knucklehead that the story isn’t going to be very enjoyable.

#6 Right: The fight scenes. Don’t get me wrong, this book is no TC&TF, but I had a lot of fun with the fight scenes. I thought they were pretty well written and engaging.

#6 Wrong: The rest of the writing. It’s not that the writing was bad, it’s just that it felt very constrained and unsure of itself. Like the writers had never written anything like this book before and were so nervous they’d mess it up that it affected the quality of their work.

#5 Right: Rowan’s romance. The romance scenes we got with Rowan were very few and far between, and yet the energy between them and the MC was so palpable. Their romance and love for each other felt so real and the longing was so present. How Rowan X TPA MC is such a brief pairing yet it’s so much more genuine and meaningful than most of the other modern book romances, I’ll never understand.

#5 Wrong: Rowan’s antagonism. Rowan’s antagonism felt very half-baked, and damn it, I’m gonna say it again. I’m gonna! Here goes: Rowan was WASTED and should have been the love interest. There. There it is. Once again.

#4 Right: Uniqueness in missions. If there is one thing that can be said about TPA, it’s that a lot of the chapters had us doing a lot of different stuff in the name of the mission. Gambling, auctions, infiltrating a hospital, there is no shortage of variety in the things we had to do.

#4 Wrong: Story similarities. As I played through TPA more and more, I eventually came to realize that as several other people have pointed out, it shares a LOT of similarities with Most Wanted and Crimes of Passion. Like, a lot of them. And also stop and consider that Crimes of Passion is still an ongoing series. Soooo…

#3 Right: Vivian’s diamond inventions. I personally didn’t buy any of Vivian’s special gadgets but I was so tempted to. I also liked how none of them were collectibles because let’s be real, collectible collections need to go like yesterday.

#3 Wrong: Everything about the Architect. And yes, I do mean everything. His design looks like a cross between an old man who would heckle me over gerbils if I still worked at the pet store and that one coworker who always steals peoples’ lunches, then lies about it and calls them bullies for calling him out. Overly specific comparison aside, I also found his motives very confusing. Like…does he want world domination? Redistribution of wealth? Death to the corrupt elite? I read all of his lore and background and I’m still confused as hell. I don’t know. He was just a lower-mid villain IMO.

#2 Right: Lack of filler. I never thought I’d see the day where another story arose with minimal filler. The story consistently moves forward and thank god for that, even if the pacing was kind of strange.

#2 Wrong: Sense of urgency. The sense of urgency in the book is hard to understand and appreciate fully because once again, the Architect and his motives are confusing as hell. It’s been hard to bring myself to care because I just…don’t care.

#1 Right: The MC’s loss and bereavement. The MC’s emotions surrounding the loss of Rowan (both times) was very jarring and strongly written. I could almost feel a fraction of the MC’s anguish just through the writing. It was the strongest writing in this book and they did a really good job here.

#1 Wrong: Everything about Agent Gray. I’ll try to keep it brief as I’ve talked about it before. Agent Gray’s sprites are all ugly. Their personality is stiff and unwelcoming and quite frankly I can’t even fathom why Gray and the MC fall for each other so quickly because their dynamic is so distant and icy. It only gets worse when you remember the impeccable chemistry between the MC and Rowan. Agent Gray was an all-around flop.