#Look all I'm saying is I love me a good descent into madness

[divineviper]

Revenge of the Sith would make a great musical follow me for more awful takes I hold with deepest conviction

[ghostdeals]

It bother me so much that people misunderstand sayaka miki's descent into madness in madoka magica. She doesnt become a witch "just because of a boy." Sayaka is a character who ties all her self worth into being in service of others. We can see this right from the start with her idolization of mami and everything that she was. She saw mami as this "perfect hero" even though mami i would say is mentally the weakest of the holy quintet. In the timelines where mami finds out about the incubator's true goals she always immediately breaks and goes crazy, trying to kill the other girls in her own twisted way of trying to "save them". Instead of seeing the fragile person that mami was, sayaka instead sort of treats her as a martyr, a goal to achieve. We continue on to sayaka's magical girl wish. Instead of wishing for something for herself, she instead sells her soul for the sake of kyousuke. Then when he starts dating hitomi she spirals not because she's sad about the rejection but because she feels replaced in his life, that he doesn't need or want her around anymore. Then she throws herself into her magical girl work not seeing that she's harming herself because she justifies it with "well im saving people that means what im doing is a good thing." She doesn't see that she's becoming more sloppy, more ruthless until its too late. It's only in the end when she turns into a witch that her story gets resolved.

Sayaka Miki is an incredibly sad character to me. While her actions have the illusion of being selfless and "for the greater good" she is actually incredibly selfishly motivated. Everything she does is in service of wanting praise and admiration from the people she cares about. If she helps kyousuke he'll appreciate her and love her, if she becomes a hero she'll receive praise and admiration for being a good person. This is why it is important that of all people it was kyoko that fought sayaka in the end. To homura, sayaka is someone to be saved. To mami, sayaka is her sweet apprentice/younger sister figure. To madoka, sayaka is her energetic and happy go lucky friend. Kyoko is the only one who from the start called sayaka out on her bullshit, seeing straight through her. And at the end, kyoko is the one who truly accepts sayaka. Sayaka as the witch Oktavia von Seckendorff is stated multiple times in official material to be "looking for love." In the end it it kyoko who gives her that love. Even when sayaka has lost her humanity it is kyoko who accepts her for the entirety of who sayaka is with all of her selfishness and desires. She is the one who sees what sayaka has become and stays together with her till both of their ends. Kyoko choosing to die with sayaka is her saying "I'm here for you, i know all of you, and I will love you regardless."

[gavisimmaculaterizz]

Hi I was wanted to request one with Jude where you and Jude are cuddling asleep on the couch but Jude forgot he invited his friends over and they make fun of Jude for being a simp

— loverboy / jude bellingham.

summary: jude can be a simp when it comes to you, as his friends say.

warnings: none, just fluff

masterlist

as the sun began its descent toward the horizon, it filtered through your blinds, casting luminous shades of princeton orange and sunflower yellow across the room.

you had spent most of your day with your boyfriend, jude, chatting and tidying up your lovely apartment in the heart of madrid.

the evening was warm and comfortable, creating a quiet and cozy ambiance. you lit some candles and settled into the comfort of your couch.

with your feet propped up on the coffee table, you reveled in the comfort of your surroundings as you immersed yourself in the pages of your book, waiting for jude, who was washing the dishes.

so entranced by your book, you didn't notice jude had finished with the dishes until he announced his presence.

"baby, I finished with the dishes," your boyfriend said.

startled by his voice, you quickly closed your book and looked up into his chocolate eyes.

"you scared me, for god's sake!" you exclaimed, laughing nervously.

he chuckled, looking at your startled expression, and took the opportunity to sit down on the couch beside you.

"come here, baby, I'm sorry for scaring you," he said, breaking into a fit of giggles.

you swiftly moved, positioning yourself on jude's lap. although annoyed he interrupted your reading, you found you couldn't really be mad at him while wrapped in his arms.

"what do you want to do today?" he asked, giving you a peck on the cheek.

"let's just relax, jj," you said, yawning. all that cleaning had left you exhausted to do something fun.

you snuggled into his shoulder, finding peace and comfort. as you started to drift off, a noise reverberated through the house.

ring

it was the sound of your doorbell…

"who was supposed to come today?" you wondered internally. you couldn't remember inviting anyone over, and you assumed jude hadn't either.

unbeknownst to you, he had invited his friend and girlfriend over.

"i'll get it, baby. you stay here," jude said calmly.

you nodded, anticipating the visitor at the door.

jude walked over and, upon reaching the door, peeked through the peephole.

"It's rodrygo and his girlfriend," he whisper-yelled. you adored rodrygo and his girlfriend, yet their presence was puzzling.

he opened the door and was greeted by the brazilian couple.

"good evening, jude," said rodrygo and his girlfriend luana. he welcomed them and invited them inside.

"Y/N!" exclaimed luana, upon seeing you on the couch. she adored you, and the feeling was mutual. she was your favorite WAG, and you always spent time with her whenever you both were free.

"luana, it's great to see you, babe! come and sit down with me," you said as she approached, and gave her the biggest hug.

jude and rodrygo entered the room after, observing the two of you chatting.

"hello, y/n," rodrygo said with a smile. you returned his greeting and offered them both something to drink.

luana sat close to rodrygo while jude came over to your side, promptly draping an arm over your shoulder.

he started kissing your neck, seemingly oblivious to the visitors around.

"jude, stop it! there are people here," you exclaimed, laughing nervously. he always had a knack for making you feel nervous in the presence of others. he tends to become cocky in the presence of his friends, which can be frustrating as he sometimes gets too carried away.

"yeah jude, we don't want to see you eating your girlfriend's neck, you simp" rodrygo said, laughing.

you began to feel embarrassed immediately, but jude, on the other hand, didn't care at all because he was entranced by you.

once he got out of trance, he noticed your flushed face, and began to laugh.

"we just saw you make out with your girlfriends neck" rodrygo said laughing. soon after rodrygo, luana began to laugh with him.

"can't i show affection to my girlfriend?" jude asked, adopting a pleading puppy face expression.

"you behave irrationally around her; it's like you're completely infatuated," came the reply.

he complained in a childlike manner after being called a simp.

but he didnt care if he was called a simp for you..

a/n: im sorry i delayed this so much i was so stressed abt my english presentation🥹! if its shit im so sorry i was super stressed and i wanted to get something out 🫶🏻

[tsukimefuku]

forgiveness is a collective resource ✦ satoru gojo

summary: as you're telling gojo about your most recent fallout, he ends up telling you in return the last question geto posed him before leaving.

tags: jujutsu kaisen, f!reader, platonic! gojo x reader, implied higuruma x reader, fluff, angst, our beloved white haired, blue-eyed sorcerer receives some well deserved comfort.

wc: 900

notes, etc: i wrote this to the sound of i'm only human. it felt like a good fit. i wanted to write this one for so long, but never knew where i'd put it on the story. i'm happy to have found its place.

✦ collection of stories: "jujutsu partners au" → masterlist for fics listed in chronological order of events

I'm no prophet or Messiah ✦ You should go looking somewhere higher ✦ I'm only human, after all ✦ I'm only human, I do what I can ✦ Don't put the blame on me

"So, that's what happened," you concluded, taking another bite from your sandwich.

"Yeesh," was all Gojo mustered up to say, not being the best at comforting people.

You and Gojo were having a snack in the woods that surrounded Jujutsu High's HQ, and you had just told him about Hiromi's departure to Morioka.

"Having people leaving is shit," you noted, "especially when you care deeply about them. Feels like being left alone to fend off for yourself."

At that, he fell weirdly silent, and you wondered if maybe this would be the best moment to inquire about Geto. After a while, you had learned everything about their fallout — the death of Riko, how Geto had a sharp descent into madness, how he murdered an entire village and had been awarded the death penalty for that.

"The last thing Hiromi told me before he left was that he loved me," which was a twisted, painful little kindness, you thought. "What was the last thing Geto told you when he left?"

You noticed Gojo's demeanor changing a little, and his body becoming stiff. You gave him a few moments before he'd resume his talking.

After a sigh, he ensued.

"'Are you Satoru Gojo because you're the strongest, or are you the strongest because you're Satoru Gojo?'" He took a bite from his sweets, and continued to speak with a half-mouthful of sugar. "That was his final question to me before he left."

"What a stupid question."

"Huh?"

"What? You don't know the answer to that?"

He was silent.

You sighed. "You really think that low of yourself? Ugh. The latter, obviously."

The sorcerer was thoroughly surprised and somewhat dumbfounded, so he simply stayed silent in order to hear your observations, something that could be considered the highest form of respect Gojo Satoru was able to display for someone.

You shook your head before proceeding.

"First of all, Geto didn't know what he was talking about, because he wasn't seeing you, only a distorted reflection of his own resentment towards you for supposedly leaving him alone to spiral down madness on his own. Stop blaming yourself. You did what you could, all of you did."

You involuntarily sighed, trying to push the heaviness away from your heart.

"We sorcerers really need to put our God complex aside and learn to forgive ourselves."

Then, you took a pause to sip on your soda, proceeding.

"I blamed myself for years, just to have it all blow up in my face a decade later. Hiromi left a good new life he had built for himself to chase ghosts from the past," and Nanami, arguably the best one of us all, made a terrible decision that rendered him miserable, you thought, "all because of this wicked little thing called guilt. Guilt weighs us down, tethers us to the past and prevents us from moving forward. So here it is: I forgive you. Have my forgiveness." 

"Your forgiveness? For what?" Gojo asked, slightly confused.

"For whatever you want to use it for. Use it to forgive yourself, since you couldn't find it in you for your own benefit. Have absolution. Forgiveness is a collective resource, and we can all forgive each other for our shortcomings. We're all human, after all."

For the very first time ever, you saw Gojo's expression softening underneath his blindfold, and you wondered if the one looking back at you right now was the teenager that failed Riko Amanai and Suguru Geto so many years ago.

The real Satoru Gojo, underneath all the silly cockiness.

"And just to finish answering the question Geto posed, that's precisely why you're the strongest because you're Satoru Gojo, and not the other way around. It was from your failure that the strongest could emerge, and your fallibility stems from you and your humanity."

You now knew how those days went, especially Toji's plan of wearing Gojo down to strike, and the way Gojo told you mindlessly about the first time he let his infinity turned on for days on end.

"You tired yourself in Amanai's benefit, and it put you in a vulnerable position, something only Satoru Gojo, and not the abstract concept of 'the strongest', would ever do. That's why that question is fucking stupid and offensive. You're more than the six eyes and infinity, and more than the people you couldn't save. Let it go," you concluded, taking another sip from your soda.

You were both silent for a moment, and you briefly wondered if you hadn't stepped over a boundary.

"Please, get up" he solicited, an indecipherable voice and expression to his blindfold covered face, getting up from the ground himself.

"Oh, okay," you answered, slightly surprised at the unexpected request.

In a second, Gojo leaned down his huge frame and embraced you, remaining still like that for a minute as you hugged him back, having your chin hooked above his shoulder.

At this moment, even if he was a giant in comparison to you, he seemed and felt remarkably small.

"Thank you," he said, his voice but a whisper behind your head.

You smiled, tightening your grip around his back, happy you could finally reach him and keep him true company.

"No problem, pretty boy. You saved my ass so many times. Thought I'd try to return the favor, which you should know is not something easy to do, since you're the strongest," you said with a laugh, "not all kikufuku in the world would pay off that debt."

He huffed a brief chuckle, letting go of you, feeling he might not be so alone anymore.

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Don't Speak 18

Warnings: this fic will include dark content such as dubcon/noncon, obsession, stalking, manipulation, reclusive behaviour, disordered eating and other possible triggers. My warnings are not exhaustive, enter at your own risk.

This is a dark!fic and explicit. 18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary: Reader is a reclusive loner who ventures down to the library on a simple mission. Her task is complicated by the man she meets there. (f!short!reader)

Character: librarian!Andy Barber

Note: Oh, Andrew.

As per usual, I humbly request your thoughts! Reblogs are always appreciated and welcomed, not only do I see them easier but it lets other people see my work. I will do my best to answer all I can. I’m trying to get better at keeping up so thanks everyone for staying with me <3

Your feedback will help in this and future works (and WiPs, I haven’t forgotten those!)

Love you all. Take care. 💖

You pull on a sweatshirt, your favourite lilac one with the frayed cuffs. You listen to the hallway before you come out of the guestroom. You sneak over across to rinse your face with cold water, trying to prepare yourself to face your cowardice. You have an apology ready, but it changes each time you recite it in your head.

You're still foggy. Your limbs are full of sand and your stomach is scraped dry. As you approach the top of the stairs, a wave of vertigo spins you. You latch onto the railing and steady the room. Your descent is cautious and sluggish. With each step, you want just as much to go back and hide in bed.

You won't. You can't. You want to change so change.

You follow the scent of coffee to the kitchen, the soft noise of porcelain assuring you of his presence. Andy's back is to you, his shoulder blades straining his shirt, as he pours himself a cup from the metal carafe. You don't know if he hears you as he leans a hand on the counter and takes a long sip.

"Andy," you squeak and a jolt of surprise tense his body.

He turns to you, wiping a droplet from his beard, the cup in his other hand. You give a sheepish frown and wring your hands. You teeth your lower lip as you measure your words, only to find the scale at zero. They're all gone.

"I'm sorry," you let your rehearsed speech float away, "can I make breakfast?"

It always made Amber happy when you tried. A meal, or a tiny chore, it always brightened her right up. So maybe it would work with him. To show him you're not entirely worthless.

His throat bobs and he shrugs, “of course you can, but I can help if you–”

“No, please, I can do it. You said… pancakes?”

His face softens and he dips his chin just slightly, “sure. Pancakes are good.”

“Right, uh, oh, I don’t have my tablet. I was going to look up a recipe…”

“It’s fine, I have some old cook books,” he sets his coffee on the island and goes to a deep draw set below a thinner one. He pulls out a hardcover book, “mom left em behind when she… passed.”

“Oh, I’m sorry.”

“Not your fault,” he puts it on the counter, “I can pull everything out if–”

“Please, I think… I think I can find everything. You can go sit down.”

“Hmm, well, what if I’d rather stay and hang out?”

The lightness in his tone reassures you. He doesn’t sound mad anymore. Maybe he just needed his coffee. 

“That’s okay, I guess,” you say.

You near the counter and pull the book close. You open it and check the table of contents. Pancakes, pg. 17. You flip through and read the first ingredient. Flour.

Andy leans over and peeks as you search the kitchen with your eyes. He smiles and backs up, popping open a cupboard. There you see the flower among several other containers.

You come around and as you get close, he reaches to take the bag of flour down from the second shelf. It’s only that act which makes you realises you wouldn’t be able to get it yourself. He hands it over and you thank him. You hug the bag, the powder dusting out the top.

“Andy,” you teeter on your heels.

He tilts his head, let a brow furrow, “what?”

“Are you still mad?”

His mouth slants and he chuckles softly, “I wasn’t mad. I worry. That’s it.”

You look down. He sounded and looked mad, but maybe you misinterpreted. You sniff as you notice the flour on your shirt and you quickly spin away. You put the bag on the counter and look down at your sweatshirt, trying to dust it off. It’s not a big deal, you’re going to be cooking anyway.

You give up and go back to the book. You turn back as Andy knowingly pulls down the baking soda. You take it from him but as you do, he catches your sleeve. He pinches the frayed cuff. You tug, freeing yourself and hiding the loose threads behind your other arm.

“Cute sweater,” he comments, “too bad.”

“It’s fine,” you set down the cylinder and fold in the sleeves, hiding the tatters, “see?”

“Mmm, yeah,” he doesn’t sound convinced, “it’s a nice colour. A bit big on you.”

“I don’t mind,” you insist as you go to the fridge and slide out the tray of eggs, “really. I make due.”

“Ah, well… ever think of not making due? Maybe spending some of that money you’ve earned?”

“One day, maybe,” you say evasively as you take out the carton of milk before you return to the island, “did you want blueberries?”

He’s quiet for a moment. He crosses the tile and you cower as he reaches past you. He grabs his cup and sips from the brim. He pulls it away from his mouth and hums, “I love blueberries.” He puts his hand on your shoulder and squeezes, “thanks, honey.”

He leans in, just a little, and for a moment, your chest seizes. What is he doing? You swear he’s going to– He detaches and strides past you, “hope you don’t mind if I catch up on the news,” he chirps over his shoulder, “I know you’ll do a great job. I can’t wait to enjoy those pancakes.”

“Mhmm,” you issue a fragile hum, jittering from the close call. Was it really that or are you just overthinking again?

🕊️

You try to tidy up as the pancakes cook. You roll up the top of the flour bag and place it neatly under the cupboard for Andy to put back. You wipe away the powder left on the counter and a few stray specks of batter. As you rinse out the cloth, you smell burning.

You go back to the pan and flip the pancakes, only to find them black on the bottom. Oh no. You huff and toss them out. Start again. You have more than enough batter.

You use the spatula to balance the pancakes and dump them in the bin, letting the lid down. As you turn back, you hit the handle of the pan and it flips, knocking into the glass bowl of batter. You try to catch the pan as the bowl shatters and you cry out as the heat tortures your hand.

The cacophony of glass and metal and you shriek reverberates around you. You stare at the batter expanding in a large pool across the floor and whimper. Oh no, you’ve spoiled it all.

You stand with your hands out, burnt and thrumming. Andy appears in the archway as you can only sputter mindlessly. He carefully steps around the mess and takes you by the arm, turning you towards the sink. He doesn’t say a word as he flips on the hot water and forces your hands under the cool stream.

You murmur as you let him. It feels nice. You’re shaking, eyes welling, as you see the torment in your flesh, and feel it even deeper.

“I’m sorry,” you eke out.

“Don’t be,” he shakes his head as he keeps your hands under the flow, “accidents happen.”

“I– I burnt them and when I turned–”

He hushes you, cradling your hands in his large ones. He’s gentle as he keeps you in place, until you’re suitably numbed. He shifts you away as he shuts off the faucet and grabs a handle down. He lightly lays it over your hands.

“I’ll clean up the mess–”

“You won’t,” he insists,” you’ll sit down and let me clean up your hands, get some salve on them, and wrap them up.”

“I’m sorry.”

“I told you, don’t be,” he repeats, “sit, okay?”

You nod as he pulls out one of the tall chairs. He helps you up with a hand on your elbow and he backs away, unbothered by the cluster of glass and batter at his feet. He leaves you and you sob. You can’t do anything right, can you?

He returns and drags a chair over. You watch silently, castigated, as he sets to work. He applies a cooling cream to the burns across your palms and fingers, carefully wrapping them up. As you wince, he apologises. You wiggle your nose, barely holding back tears.

“It’s okay,” he assures you, “I'll clean up and then we can order something–”

“I’m sorry,” you hang your head, “I tried…” you pull your hands back, resting them daintily in your lap, “can I lay down?”

“Honey, you should stay up and eat. You promised me you’d eat, right?”

You nod, refusing to look at him.

“Alright, so you stay out here and I’ll figure something out.”

“Okay,” you agree in a tiny voice.

He sighs, “I’m not doing this to hurt you, you know? If you’re not going to take care of yourself, someone has to.” He stands and gathers up the remnants of the bandages and the tube of salve. “I can’t, if you don’t let me.”

“I’m sorry,” you echo once more.

He says nothing. You can tell by his posture he’s irritated. You look down at the chaos you’ve wrecked. You wouldn’t be surprised if he sent you back to Amber, and you wouldn’t be surprised if she refused to take you back. Especially after yesterday.

🕊️

Andy orders in and you sit at the table glumly. He places a container before you and flips the tops. Inside, there is a stack of pancakes, a small container of butter, and another of syrup. You say thank you and stare. Your stomach is a volcano, waiting to erupt.

You grab the butter and struggle to pop off the lid. You take the plastic knife and struggle to scoop out the creamy butter. Andy puts his container close and takes the chair next to yours. He turns in his seat and takes the knife and cup from you.

“Here,” he butters up each pancake and pours the syrup over. 

You can only watch. You feel like a child. He cuts up your pancakes and hands you back the fork.

“Got it?” He asks.

You nod. He turns to his own food as hold the fork awkwardly and jab at the fluffy squares. You sop up as much syrup as you can and nibble along the edge. He starts on his own pile, quiet as you languish in the lull.

“You okay?” He speaks at last.

“Yeah.”

“It’s alright. Sometimes those things happen. Let’s just move past it.”

“I know,” you mutter and chew.

“I’m just happy to have someone to spend my Saturday with. Usually… it’s just me, you know?”

You nod and finish the small square, letting your fork rest on the side of the container. He glances over and leans in, pressing his arm to yours.

“And you’re good company," he adds.

🕊️

You only eat half your breakfast. Andy accepts it with an air of disappointment but lets you go. You sit in the garage for almost an hour, staring at the canvas. You don’t know why it’s so hard. You have it all in your head but it just won’t come out. As it is, your hands make it impossible to do much.

After a while, you head back inside. Andy’s in the living room, the TV crackling with whatever sport he’s watching. He doesn’t look back as you pass the doorway. Good.

You retreat upstairs and tiptoe down to the guest room. You take out a pair of pajamas and take your towel with you across the hall. You close the door and flip the lock over. Maybe you should’ve asked but you figure it’s not too much trouble, not as much as bothering Andy. It’s his weekend, he deserves to enjoy it.

You turn on the faucet and watch the tub fill before you get undressed. You leave your fresh clothes on the closest corner of the counter and put the others on the opposite end. You take the cupcake soap with you and the fluffy pink loofah.

The water is hotter than you expect. You stand for a little before you can lower yourself. You look at the bluetooth speaker suctioned to the tile and step close, trying to find the buttons. You’ll have to bring your tablet in next time and see if you can pair it up.

You sit and sink into the heat. You always found baths to be relaxing. When your anxiety was bad, you could just forget. You should’ve brought a book but you let the regret slip away. You close your eyes and recline, the steam dampening your skin.

As you feel the water cool, you sit up and lather with the loofah and soap. You stand to get the rest of your body, the scent sugary but strong. You turn, trying to reach your back and hear a click as you do. You spin and face the door, facing Andy as he stands dumbfounded with his hand on the handle.

You drop down with a splash, hiding behind the wall of the tub. You cling to it, horrified. Why didn’t you close the curtain? You thought…

“...I locked the door…” you quaver.

“Uh, yeah, sometimes it doesn’t catch,” he says dully, his eyes transfixed on you. 

He shakes himself and finally looks away. You hide behind your hand, wanting nothing more than to disappear. He stutters and backs away.

“Sorry, uh, I’m sorry, dove, I didn’t… know…” He pivots stunted, his hand still on the door, and he pulls it shut as he leaves.

You stay as you are, staring at the door, heart beating furiously. You can’t believe what’s just happened. You just want to go shrivel up in bed and never come out. Never again.

[thecameronchronicles]

The Wedding

TW: Public teasing. Smut. Language. 

SUMMARY: At Drew’s sister’s wedding, you can’t keep yourself and it results in specific type of punishment…

WORD COUNT: 900

REQUESTED

Anonymous asked:

Idk if u saw but Drew’s sister got married and I was wondering if u can do a smut around that like the reader was teasing him all of his sisters wedding and they go back to there hotel and drew teaches the reader the behave with smut ?

The Wedding 

From the second you saw him in his suit, you knew it was going to be difficult to keep your hands to yourself. So why even try? Not to mention how the entire ambiance of the wedding itself had reminded you of your love for one another and the future you still had to look forward to. And that is what sent you to initiate those first teases. Innocuous at first, you began at his knee beneath the table, sliding upwards during dinner, teasing the now tight seam of his pants, before returning your hand back to eyelevel. 

You acted the part of the behaved girlfriend following this as you offered genuine support for his sister through the expected events of the wedding. Cake cutting. Bouquet toss. Garter throw. All the while, conniving when it was you would act out again. You decided to do this during the invitation to join their first dance. 

An excuse to be held by and to hold him close, you offered that appropriate sway to the music, feeling him accept you with admiration until your fingers pulled that fabric into the same slit of his pocket square. The same fabric you slipped off last time you were alone. And that same fabric that had been soaked since you saw him in that sandy blonde suit. 

"Are you wanting to show everyone you prefer lace?" You only smirked. 

"No. That YOU do..."

You brushed his seam, motioning to his forming erection, as the events continued. All the while, he continued his role as a dutiful brother and son, smiling for photos and partaking in the remaining festivities while catching your seductive gaze whenever he was in search of you. 

But the second the newlyweds were subject to depart, your feet were taken to the direction of the elevator, where you quickly learned you weren't alone. Making small talk with family as he squeezed your wrist tighter as if in some sort of warning of broadcasted impatience for you to not test, you were able to get off on your floor. 

"Are you mad at me Drew?" He moved into the room before you, forcing you inside, and removing his belt as his eyes set to you. 

"I should have been able to focus on my sister today. It was her day...and my horny little girlfriend had to make it about her...huh?" He tossed the belt on the bed, making you pout as you favored the idea of being bound. 

"I don't take care of you? Is that it?" He asked with a scoff before unbuckling his cufflinks and letting you undress him. 

"Bold and brazen all night, for what?" 

"For you, Drew." 

"Yeah?" You nodded, his hand cruel to your jaw with a grip that made it impossible to do anything but obey his touch. 

"Then I'm expecting you to take everything I'm going to do to you." He spoke while turning you away from him and leaving you completely bare with a vicious descent of your zipper. 

"The dress was enough to make it difficult to focus...But the needy girl inside needs to be taught a lesson." You were dragged by the back of your neck until you were guided onto the bed. 

"Foot of the bed. Hands. Now." You fought the smirk, worried if he saw that he would retract this in knowing you found enjoyment. For that, you'd only obey and climb to the edge, where you found his belt into a forceful pull that made you gasp. 

"I'm going to make you think twice about acting up again. In front of my friends...my family..." He cocked his jaw. "Your poor little ass is gonna be so raw...and when I'm done You're STILL gonna say thank you...why?" 

"Because I'm your good girl." He lowered to you. 

"You want to be?" 

"Yes." 

"Then ass up, baby...you're in for a long night." 

Time held no concept as he produced thrust after thrust. Hand in contact to your bare, and now raw, ass sent your whimpers to the forefront as these were silenced by furthering moans and groans. You ached in every delicious pain, pleasure rivaling this tenfold, until your hands were finally released and you were taken up to his chest. 

"I wanted to make love to you tonight, baby. But instead, I had to fuck my lesson in to you..." 

"I understand." 

"I don't think you do." You were taken into a spin and onto your back, having been edged countless times as your genuine punishment, which brought him to his own edge. 

"I am still going to because you're my girl. But I just wish I didn't have to punish you, too" You nodded. 

"I'll behave." 

He scoffed. 

"Don't make promises you're not gonna keep baby." He kissed you softly, returning to you in thrusts, now passionate as your bodies found thay natural rhythm once again. Your lips parted to announce your release before finding his fingers to silence you. You luxuriate your tongue around them, sucking them clean from the tease of your clit and sex he'd made while edging you, his eyes trained as he carried you both to and through that high. 

"I love you Drew." 

"I love you, too baby." He smacked your ass. "Now let me go clean my dirty girl up..."

Taglist: @hopebaker @iovdrew @penny4yourthoughts @magnificantmermaid @pickingviolets @lovedetlost @trikigirl271 @maybankslover @slut4starkey @slvtherinseeker @obxiskewl @obxxrxfes @bluesongbird @slut-era @ailee-celeste @rafesbae @camilynn @bethoconnor

[imminentinertia]

Pre DFF finale: brain churning, latching on to genre

I've nearly lost count of the number of genres Dead Friend Forever has pressed into service, but I'm trying to make a list, because I love this very good post on DFF and horror genres by @chaos0pikachu and that made me think about how much it's been throwing us around:

slasher essentially a frolicsome and fun horror subgenre, if not for those who see little amusement in some characters terrifying and murdering others:

the first frenzy about the curse of the film, Por impaling himself spectacularly

the masked would-be killer chasing various characters, notably Phee and Jin having to hide in something that looks very much like a funerary box

mystery thriller trying to solve one or more puzzles:

is Non alive, where did he go?

possibly the mystery of who is the killer with the mask - but that's more of a slasher staple and less of a mystery to be solved, slashers don't necessarily reveal the murderers' identity

horror of personality the villain is human and technically normal, but is awfully murderous and/or sadistic etc.:

Fluke's descent into madness - I think him shooting Top goes here rather than into the slasher basket, because it's notably done in front of everyone and not by the/a masked killer

Tan-New's losses escalating his focus on revenge

Keng being subtly menacing underneath the friendliness

note that Non's descent into vengeful violence doesn't count towards this genre, as he's the main victim in all the genres DFF uses

erotic thriller what it says on the tin, it's suspenseful but there's sex:

Tee, White and The Hand

Keng's arc including his manipulation of Non

Phee having sex with Jin with the primary secondary purpose of getting closer to the friends group

social drama and how. Surely they didn't have to go this hard. School bullying, money trouble and debt all the way into inhuman terms for repaying, class divide and upper class suppression of lower class, police corruption, inadequate health care, power abuse, motherfucking organ trafficking, the list goes on and the shift from episode 4 to 5 left me reeling.

Most of the genres DFF makes use of are of the horror/thriller variety, and while social drama definitely can cross-pollinate with other genres, DFF injects some social commentary into the first four slasher episodes but then drops the horror/thriller entirely. Then it proceeds to do a very well crafted critique of a number of societal issues, with no hint of anything horror-y, until it picks the suspenseful genres up again in the later episodes. I was still reeling when they turned the social commentary back into those.

gangster this may be stretching it a little because DFF doesn't really tell any stories from the gang life POV and the organised crime is present mostly as a threat to the characters, but:

Tee is a (low-ranking and untried) member of a criminal gang, working for his gangster uncle, and part of the story is told from his POV

and there's even romance! sweet sweet passion, affection, wooing etc. etc. etc.:

Phee falling like a broken parachute for Non and proceeding to do all the cute things in the world with him

Tee and White with their meet-cute and not too unsettling relationship (White has some lines that hint about a dynamic that may not be all sweet)

I'm sure I've forgotten about ten genres and subgenres.

There's one episode left, and while I fully understand wanting it to turn slasher/vengeance thriller/etc. again and MURDER ALL THE ASSHOLES IN CREATIVE WAYS, I'm very curious about what genre notes they end this on.

Personally I'm still stuck in the social commentary and expect the finale to be Mike Leigh levels of unhappy, but with a Final Girl walking away, and I have no idea at all who that would be. It would depend on how many Sharpened Screwdrivers it gets on the Leigh Scale (probably fewer than I think, it's probably not supposed to end entirely unhappily. 4/10?).

(Side note 1: for terrific examples of social commentary horror, check out George A. Romero's films.)

(Side note 2: horror of personality is one of my favourite genres and my absolute favourite such film of all times is Michael Haneke's Funny Games. I love it, it nearly made me throw up and I don't know if I can recommend watching it.)

[lumine-no-hikari]

Dear Sephiroth: (a letter to a fictional character, because why not) #50

I heard something very distressing about what's in store for you through the grapevine. Admittedly, though, I'm not sure about the integrity of this source. So I will not say what was said just yet. I don't wanna put that kind of negativity out into the void in any case.

All the same, I'm not really sure what more I can do to help you. I already have a petition. I have the initial letter that I wrote to you, which I gave to some very important people. I have all my handicrafts that I made for you - the music boxes, the tree in your colors, the Rainbow Tree Materia (Tree of Life) that I made and also gave to the very important people, an acapella, and with today, I will have 50 generic letters for you. So few seem to want to look at any of these things I've done. So few seem interested in helping me to help you.

Still, I'm doing my best to try to reach you. To try to get you to save yourself. To try to get others to understand that you are deserving of kindness and mercy. But I am surrounded by people who say things like, "I hate how they're painting Sephiroth as such a great guy before his descent into madness; clearly he was always nuckin' futz and evil from the get-go." And… just… sigh…

…These people who can say that with such confidence must have no idea what it's like to grow up in a place where you're abused horribly, forced into a role you don't want, and "loved" only for the ways you can be of use. They have no idea what it's like to be so othered by broader society that you start to believe that the world and everyone in it is your enemy. They don't know what it is for your silent cries for mercy, for a friend, or for any shred of support or compassion or understanding to fall upon willfully deaf ears. They don't know what it is to live on your knees in a life you don't want with no one who seems to care for so long that you break.

And… it's good that they don't know what that is. But at the same time, the fact that they don't know is what allows them to say such ignorant and callous things. They don't understand the mechanics that led to your choices. They don't understand that any human in your shoes with your same circumstances and neurobiology is likely to have made the same ones.

…But you know. I live in a society where compassion and mercy, by and large, are considered weaknesses. I live in a society where people prefer retributive justice over restorative justice. I live in a society where people want to just punish those who make mistakes instead of examine and correct the social structures and economic systems that produce those mistakes. I live in a society in which "othered" people are regularly dehumanized, demonized, and excluded, if not outright eliminated. A lot of the wars that are fought here are fought on the basis that "group xyz are all monsters that need to be exterminated like the vermin that they are."

…And that's why you are villainized and hated, meanwhile Rufus Shinra and the Turks are celebrated and adored and excused for their mistakes, despite the fact that they're responsible for far more deaths than you (offscreen, admittedly), and human trafficking besides (this was very much not offscreen, but it seems a lot of folks don't know about it).

You're an autistic person with trauma. And my world doesn't like autistic people very much, and they don't like traumatized people very much, either. I see the words people say about you - things like "broken beyond repair" and "bad person" and "horrible evil guy" and "arrogant", and… they don't seem to realize that when they talk about you like that, they're talking about me and about a bunch of people I love, too. They don't seem to understand that they're talking about very real people, who society refuses to help, because they are considered "bad", "horrible", "evil", "arrogant", and "broken beyond repair". In a word - worthless. Worthless and undeserving of compassion or mercy in any way, shape, or form. There are a lot of people that my global society considers "better off dead". You are one of them. And so am I. And so are a lot of people I care very deeply about.

…And I'm tired. I'm tired of living in this place. I'm tired of the heartbreak I see every day, tired of watching this group or that group get villainized for one reason or another, tired of watching people think they're doing "good" in the world by killing "monsters", tired of watching my planet die because the people in charge are more concerned with profits than with human life, tired of watching the way the people in charge are worshipped anyway because people in my world equate wealth with goodness of character, meanwhile there are people on the street who are victims of the ones in charge getting spat on just for asking for the basic necessities to survive. My world does not like "unproductive" members of society AT ALL.

And then… gosh, you know? If my world doesn't think that someone as kind, gentle, and amazing as you shouldn't get to have any mercy because of his neurobiology and because of his mistakes… if even someone with your ability to be a "productive member of society" isn't considered worthy of compassion and mercy, then what chance in hell does someone like me - a traumatized, autistic person who once (but no longer) wished she could raze everything to the ground - have? My skeleton is falling the fuck apart and I'm in a lot of physical pain literally all the time, and from my own upbringing and experiences, my mind exists in pieces to the point where I have to be on top of managing it CONSTANTLY - I am in a lot of mental/emotional pain literally all the time as I swat away intrusive thought after intrusive thought and nasty flashback after nasty flashback. I'm not "useful" to anyone anymore. I'm not sure if I ever was. I'm not sure if I ever can be again, at this point, at least in the way my society considers "good" and "proper".

Sephiroth, it's all very heavy today, and I don't know what to do. I don't know how to help you. I don't know how to help anyone. I feel so powerless. I think people must think that I'm nuts for calling for mercy for you. But they don't seem to understand that if we want things in my world to change, we first have to change how we see those who are fallen. I don't have the power to change that by myself. But your story at very least has the ability to sow the seeds of change, if only the people in charge of it will allow you to have some kind of peace. But I'm not sure that they're going to give that to you. I'm not really sure of anything today. It all seems so frightening and uncertain.

…Admittedly, it's becoming harder and harder for me to find reasons to stay here in this fucked-up meat-mech that I'm driving around in this fucked-up world with. I'm doing the best I can, but like… I'm hurting literally all the time. My voice isn't valued here, and I know that because anytime I raise my voice in spaces that aren't the walls of my home or the innermost parts of my social circle, I'm either laughed at or ignored. And I'm sure that even my friends and chosen family are getting sick and fucking tired of hearing me talk and talk and talk and FUCKING. TALK. about autism or trauma or our social systems and how fucked up they are or… you, and how your story might be able to start to change all of that for the better, if it's done right.

…I'm getting sick of me, anyway. Getting sick of the sound of the flow of my thoughts. Getting sick of hearing myself talk about the same old shit all the time. Getting sick of the pain that constantly wracks my mind and body. Getting sick of trying to do kind and good things in this stupid place where I get told I'm an idiot for it, and nothing ever changes. It's the same age-old story of the strong stepping on the weak, gleefully feasting on their desperate cries for mercy and savoring their tears like fine wine, day in and day fucking out.

…I'm sorry. I don't have anything uplifting to write to you today. Because I've had enough. You know what, though? I'm writing to you anyway, because just like you, I am human. All humans have this side to them, and if I'm going to try to show you that you're also human… if I'm going to try to show you and others that even good people have darker sides to them that come out when things get heavy… then I'm not going to hide my less-than-stellar sides from you or from anyone else who reads these random weird things I write. I'm cracked and broken, but I gotta still believe that there's some aspect of me that's worthwhile, even if it's small and hard for me to see.

What I need to do is drink some water. Because certainly part of why I'm having a hard time is the simple fact that I'm dehydrated as hell today. Speaking of which - are YOU on top of your hydration game? If not, then get on that; it's IMPORTANT.

I'm not at risk yet of exiting my meat-mech. I still have work to do. I work for the sake of you and for the sake of my world, even if it seems that no one hears me. I still have people to reach for. You're one of them. I still have smiles to coax out of all the people who live and breathe. I hope to see your smile someday, too.

You also have work to do. A world to save. A self to save. Trauma and conditioning to overcome. Paths to change. A future worth living for. So get up off your butt and do it already, willya? Because you've got people over here who love you enough that if you're not okay by the end of this, they won't recover from your absence, and they're never gonna be the same.

I know because I'm one of them, and even if it was just me by myself (and it's NOT just me by myself; there are millions of people who clamor for your happiness and safety! I just haven't found many of them yet because most of them seem to clamor silently!), you still don't get to say that no one cares about you, because contrary to what broader society might like me to believe, I AM NOT A WORTHLESS NOBODY.

And neither are you!! So start acting like you're somebody outside of what you can do for someone else! Start acting like you're worth something and make choices in light of that belief! You don't have to do what that weird space parasite says because it doesn't care about you anyways! Tell it to fuck off and go away! Start listening instead to the people who do care about you - people like Zack, Genesis, and Angeal! For heaven's sake, get out of your own damn way and move your ass because you're running out of time to fix this, and I don't think I can take watching you die a second time!!

I'm going to write you another letter tomorrow. No matter how heavy it gets. No matter how much it hurts. Just watch me. I will not be stopped.

Your friend, Lumine

[stayarmytinyzenmoa-l]

just marathoned the infatuation sungchan story <//3 i love sungchan too much sorry renjun if i see him in the pet store i would have fallen head over heels

i kinda wanna see the infatuation series to be like flipped (??) idk how to explain but yn is basically the yandere one or theyre also a yandere w him obsessing w eo

like yn and somi going to the pet store and he gets infatuated by sungchan with how cute he is and completely forgotten theyre getting stalked and becomes obsessed w sungchan

but also a part 2 of the recent sungchan drabble sounds good it may be angst but also comfort fluff w yn becoming guilty over leaving sungchan and even though somi and renjun is near they ran cause what is happening w sungchan? they see him crying and they comfort him (u could make it seem like somi and renjun followed yn idk)

INFATUATION thats a name i haven't seen in my inbox in a hot sec (aside from that one req) but also ugsdfhgfdjhg no me too Sungchan u caught my heart boyo!!!!

But also you know what I actually toyed with an idea similar before but with a different idol group, ATEEZ. It's in the drafts rn, but the whole thing is Seonghwa is the first Yan while YN goes through some descent into madness but yeah fun stuff! Maybe that will be a spooky season thing hehe

But no yeah that's a solid idea! There was a time that I planned to do a silly after-end thing once I finally sat down and finished Johnny's ending buuuuut we'll see hehehe anyway a part 2 👀 sure why not?

~

Infatuation AU Pairing: Yandere!Sungchan x Reader TW: Unsettling themes, Blood, Implied Self Harm Notes: I can see the need for a good ending but these infatuated boys will never know joy >:) [Part 1]

"Oh my god, (Y/N)!" Somi's arms wrapped around you tight, not letting you go for a minute, even when you eventually separated her hand still held yours. "Where have you been? We've been so worried!" She clasps her hands over yours now across the booth. You'd both decided to meet up at the Starbucks by campus, it was just the easiest place to pinpoint, you'd spent almost all of your undergrad there together and, for some reason, it seemed to be the safest place right now.

"I... I don't even know where to start, Soms..." you shook your head slowly. "I missed you guys so much..."

"Where were you?" Her eyes were desperate.

"Do you..." You looked around. "Do you remember Sungchan?"

"That kid from the pet store? What about him?" You were silent, and Somi pieced the story together herself. But, before she could say anymore, the door to the cafe opened and someone rushed in.

"Somi! I came as soon as you called!" Renjun was frantic, but he seemed to calm down as soon as he saw you. And you felt your heart melt at him. "(Y/N)..." your name was fragile on his lips. "Oh my god, (Y/N)," he reached for you and, for some reason, you flinched back, and Renjun's heart broke.

"Sorry," you muttered, rubbing your wrists habitually. Renjun fell into the seat next to Somi.

"What happened?" If Somi was desperate, Renjun was crazed. "Months, no contact, no sign, we've been looking for you nonstop and here you are... okay," he says. You didn't blame him for looking this way, hell, he's never looked worse.

"It's such a long story," you said. Then, your phone rang. And you answered it before Somi and Renjun could even think of looking at it.

"Hello?" You said quietly. The other two listened with baited breath.

"... Where are you?" Sungchan's voice was quiet too. You hesitated.

"At a Starbucks," you didn't exactly lie.

"... where?" He asked again. You swallowed harshly. "Please come home, I'm sorry, I know I said you could go, but... I didn't think you'd be gone this long. Please come home. I don't know what I'm going to do without you here. Come home, (Y/N)."

"I," you looked at your friends and you couldn't read their expressions. "I'll be right there." You rushed out. You remembered the last time this happened, the last time you were gone for just a bit too long and at that time you were just in the pet shop with the bunnies, imagine now, you're in a whole other town, and you had to take the taxi just to get home.

You were fumbling with the keys to the apartment when you realized the sheer ridiculousness of your statement. Home? When did you consider this hellhole your home? You didn't know. You didn't even have time to close the door when you ran in.

"Sungchan?" You looked around the apartment. It was quiet, too quiet. You started opening doors and cabinets, anything you'd think to check regardless of whether it was plausible or not, until, finally, you looked in the bathroom. You threw open the shower curtain, and Sungchan sat in the bathtub, legs pulled up to his chest and shirt twisted in such a strange way that you couldn't even fathom how it got like that in the first place. Sungchan looked up at you, phone still in his hand as if you were still on it, and he relaxed. "Oh..." you pitied him. And he reached for you, wrapping his arms around your legs and pressing his head against your thighs. You bent down slowly, adjusting so he was holding your shoulders instead. "It's okay, I'm here," you reassured him.

"I'm sorry," he says.

"It's fine, it's fine," you comforted him.

"I thought I was ready."

"It's fine," you ran your hands through his hair now.

"I..." Sungchan is cut off by a gasp. You look to the door and Somi has her hands over her mouth and Renjun... he was just quiet.

"Blood... blood," Somi's voice was muffled. You pulled Sungchan away from you for just a moment and near gagged. How did you not see that before.

"What the fuck..." Renjun mutters. "This? This is what you've had to do for months? Oh fuck..." he mumbles. His hand clutched his phone. "I'm calling the cops."

"Call an ambulance first! Oh god!" Somi panics.

"Sung? Sungchan?" You held his face in your hands and you look down at his arms again. "Why?!"

"You took too long."

~

General Tag List: @stopeatread @bat-shark-repellant @raeincitizen @umbralhelwolf @yangsrose @kazooms @sadcoffeecritic 

NCT Tag List: @cherrylovr @minjiville  

Infatuation: @lune1897 @beefchippp @nawkamoto @shiningstar-byulxx @treasuretaeil @jaesspresso @huangberryyy @yutafrita

If you want to be added to either tag list or removed just send me a reply to this post, and ask, or a DM and I’ll add you as soon as possible!

[erichalk]

My Flying House Headcanons!!

(I hope you like it because I tried to make them as accurate as possible)

-Actually I have no idea what Justin could be descent of yet

-Angie and Corky are both of Scottish descent

- They all live in the USA lol

- Angie and Justin are around 12/14 years old. Corky is 4 or 5. Prof. Bumble is around his 40s. SIR has no age, but is adult coded - probably around his 30s then

- Justin, Angie and Corky go out a LOT and basically the whole town they live in knows them

- Justin and Angie both really like sports (mostly basketball) and they play together almost every day. They don't really let Corky join them anymore though because, the last time they did, that goddamn baby was able to break the neighbor's window = D

- Even after they were able to get back to the 20st century, the kids still visit Prof. Bumble pretty often. Maybe they even end up traveling somewhere else... next stop: ANCIENT GREECE!

- Ok this has something to do with their travel to the New Testament — I REALLY like to think that Jesus was very well aware that the children were from the future because, y'know, He is Jesus

- SIR really likes listening to jazz, blues, bossa nova... all that stuff!!! he is a man of culture <3

- Prof. Bumble loves anything that is astronomy related. Planets. Stars. Blah blah.

- Whenever SIR gets extremely angry or nervous he begins to glitch. A lot

- Justin and Angie are not dating, BUT they do have feelings for each other and absolutely hate admitting to it lol. I'd say it's more of a childhood crush thing, nothing serious - they mostly love each other as friends

- Continuing the previous topic, all best friends have their ups and downs I guess... that's why Justin and Angie occasionally fight over the stupidest motives ever (sometimes Corky joins in somehow).

- Ironically enough, Professor Bumble is really really good at cooking (this is canon actually but-); man even owns a recipe book. Sure he burns some stuff now and then but who cares? Also he hates admitting to knowing how to cook because he does not want to look too "casual" since he's, well, a scientist.

- SIR's writing looks all cursive and fancy I think that's comedic sorry

- Since SIR works on solar energy, he may feel more tired at night — Although, there are times where he is able to stay up until morning.

- SIR just- shouts random proverbs from the Bible out of nowhere. Okay most of the time it's because he feels like giving a lecture to Prof. Bumble for whatever reason (and Bumble does not care at ALL)

- Professor Bumble likes using his... intelligence to build some really random stuff that are basically useless. For example a machine that peels bananas =^D

- Justin owns a cereal toy collection. It's still kind of small, but he's proud of himself B)

- While they were in the New Testament, I like to think that SIR would tell bedtime stories to the children so they could fall asleep :^]

- There were times when Angie, Justin and Corky stayed up until morning sun playing and doing random stuff... like a slumber party! And doodling/writing random things on SIR's face while he is asleep! YAY!

- Angie and Justin are like super best friends. Listen let me insert the Spongebob and Patrick dynamic into my favorite characters

(Will update if needed)

(some of the) Headcanons that include my OC — B-888 — !

- Both SIR and Bea act like parents to the children while they're still stuck in the New Testament.

- Bea often gets super mad at Prof. Bumble because he is really irresponsible with the children lol. She knows that he cares about them though but oh well

- Bea probably had to knit some clothes for the children me thinks. LIKE shirts with their names and cool patterns that stuff lol--

- Also also Bumble, SIR and Bea would kind of work like a trio...?? THAT WOULD BE COOL me thinks part 2

- YES Bea and SIR are dating but they mostly act like best friends. SIR likes calling Bea his "wife" tho

I'm too embarrassed to continue this one I'm sorry for making you cringe let me be happy 💥

[gregrulzok]

What are your top 10 favorite media, like from books, anime/manga, movies, tv series, etc (if you feel like listing multiple) of all time? Feel free if you want to write the reasons or not of why you love them....

Now THIIIIS is way different from asking me my favourite characters.

When it comes to characters, I tend to be heavily analytical and critical. When it comes to media... Well, you'll see. Whatever the case please note that these pieces of media being my favourite doesn't mean I necessarily recommend them. There's things I love with my whole heart that I wouldn't inflict upon my mortal enemy. You've been warned.

I'm also purposefully omitting some of my favourite pieces of media to shine a spotlight on ones I don't really get to talk about, or just want more people to know about (sorry, Berserk)

I'll try and keep these ones spoiler free, since I'm thinking of them more as recommendations! NSFW media will be marked with a *, but I won't go into anything explicit here. Please look up media mindfully and with discression, some of these may be triggering.

Thank you for the ask and I'm sorry for the ridiculous lengths of information you're about to witness !

Dungeon Meshi

Lets start with a safe one. A simple one. An expected one.

Yes, Dungeon Meshi IS that good.

Dungeon Meshi is a beautifully drawn manga that starts out slow, whimsical and almost slice-of-life-y, and then descents into utter madness so slowly and skillfully that by the time you blink you're in another dimension.

The world building in this series is second to none - everything makes sense and nothing is handwaved. The genuine and honest passion in the way the world feels alive is palpable, and despite its realism it never loses its magical feeling.

The characters are charming, lovable, realistic, and complex. Each of them have an inner world to tap into, each of them feels like a real person you could hold a conversation with and would WANT to hold a conversation with. Here I'll also proudly announce that we get zero (0) gratuitous fanservice, zero (0) characters who exist as a punchline, and guaranteed Sexy-Lamp Free !

The plot... Fuck, man. The plot is the most honest and bare faced look at some of the most nuanced subjects in the world (desire, ambition, love, death, survival, trauma, neurodivergence) wrapped up in a way that feels simple, grounded and real.

It also sincerely began to heal my relationship with food. I don't think I've ever seen the subjects of cooking, eating, health, weight and body diversity portrayed so well in such an empathetic, understanding and caring way in any piece of media. Body positivity is not so much a focus, but rather an undercurrent in the whole manga.

Whew ! With one objectively good piece of media out of the way, let's move on to something more unhinged, such as ...

Honestly I can't begin to imagine what kind of person WOULDN'T enjoy Dungeon Meshi. Do yourself a favour and read it.

Cats (1998)

Cats. The Broadway musical cats. One of the longest running musicals in the world, award winning, famously bashed and hated, recently revorked into a horrible film that was even more bashed and hated, the beautiful, glorious wonderful disaster of my heart - Cats.

Specifically, the 1998 film version.

...It's so hard for me to explain this one.

At some point, while watching Cats for the second time (for a reason I cannot explain), some neurons fired the wrong direction in my brain and now I have a pathological obsession, to the point where I can name each and every single Godforsaken cat in this show, including the ones that don't even appear in the credits.

Cats. What am I even supposed to say here, like, genuinely. It's cats.

Well, here's the thing - the choreography and acting direction in this fucking musical is genuinely breathtaking. It takes a few watches for it to fully click, but once it does, I sincerely believe that Cats is one of the most endlessly fascinating pieces of media to analyze. What you have to understand about Cats is that every single character (with very few exceptions) is on screen basically for the entire show. And so while you're watching the dancing in the foreground (which is beautiful on its own), every single cat in the background is just ... There. Moving, interacting, portraying characteristics that are never stated, never so much as focused on - but you can see them. You can see the kittens playing with each-other, you can see the elders gossiping, you can see small bits and gags you won't catch your first time, or second, or fifth. You can see how rowdy Tumblebrutus and Pouncival are, you can see how excitable Electra is, you can see the quiet dignity of Coricopat and Tantomile, the friendship between Jellylorum and Jennyanydots. There's always new little bits of background characterisation you can catch, pretty much regardless of how many times you've seen it.

In that way, Cats is feels the most alive, the most ever changing and evolving. I'm completely enraptured by it and if you do want to watch it, I recommend watching it as many times as you can stomach, because your first time through it'll glide right off you like water off a duck.

Chainsaw Man (Public Safety Arc)*

The first time I finished reading Chainsaw Man, I stared at my phone for a straight minute, then started sobbing. The next morning, I drank alcohol for the first time.

I wish that was a joke.

I'll admit I'm not up to date on the second arc of Chainsaw Man - it honestly got away from me a little and I'm not entirely sure I'll be finishing it.

But that doesn't take away from the fact that the first arc is one of the most tightly written, beautiful, emotional stories I've ever read.

Sure, it's fun and funny. Sure, it's cool in it's action scenes. Sure, the art direction is absolutely breathtaking. Sure, the character design and worldbuilding are interesting and detailed.

But at its heart the core appeal of CSM, to me, is the way it speaks about trauma, abuse, assault, isolation, fear, and desire. Chainsaw Man is painfully down to earth in a gritty, real way, and while it is extremely dark, it's also uplifting and hopefull in a way a lot of dark media isn't.

Chainsaw Man makes you feel tiny, helpless in a massive world. Chainsaw Man puts you up against horrors both tangible and fantastical, and then it looks you in the eyes and says "Hey. You aren't weak. You aren't useless. The world is scary, the world is cruel, the world is harsh, but that doesn't mean you can't fight it. That doesn't mean there isn't hope".

I really don't know how else to describe it without going into spoilers. It's genuinely moving.

Arcane

Arcane is a beautiful tragedy that has no right being as impactful as it is for being a goddamn League of Legends adaptation, of all things.

The art direction in Arcane is absolutely insane - Taking a page from Into the SpiderVerse (which is another favourite of mine), it blends 3D animation with a 2D-esque art style and fully 2D effects to bring what I genuinely believe to be one of the best looking shows in the world to life. And that's not all !

Arcane is infinitely nuanced. Between it's multiple plots it introduces many, many characters, all of whom have their own wants, needs, goals, ambitions, fears, flaws and trauma, and it clashes them together beautifully. Nothing in Arcane feels like an afterthought to me, I think the most fantastic thing about it is how expertly it weaves all these different storylines together. Everything ties into something else, everything affects something else, the story changes based on every little movement of our main characters and by the time it unfolds you realize that there's nothing that could really be done to change it because EVERYTHING lead to this.

It's a tragedy in the best way possible.

Attack on Titan

I don't care what anyone says - Attack on Titan is one of the best Anime ever put on screen.

I am a person that grew up in a colonized, war-torn country. Part of our land is still occupied, and our occupants are currently seeking refuge in our city and acting like this is their vacation resort. My people have been marginalized, demonized, dismissed, our culture has been erased and we have been fed more propaganda than I can count.

And I say this because I think being in this situation lends me a pretty good perspective of what AoT is:

Propaganda. The first two seasons of Attack on Titan are literally an extended propaganda film, meant to trick and decieve the viewer into siding with the protagonists, and dismissing their enemies as mere monsters.

If I go any deeper into that statement, there will inevitably be spoilers, so I'll cap it off with this:

There are no easy answers in war. There are no heroes and no villains, there are no good guys and bad guys, and there are no winners. There is only deception, control, and death.

I've never seen a piece of fiction capture the true, real horror of war quite as well as Attack on Titan does.

Death Parade

Everybodyyyyyyy put your hands upppppp

Death Parade is the show I go to rewatch when I have nothing else to rewatch.

It is a soft, yet painful look at human nature. It's an exploration of what makes a person good or bad, and whether such things even exist. It brings into question the very nature of humanity, whether there's such a thing as being good or bad, whether our character is formed by our circumstances or our behaviour, and how those things should be judged. It asks what it means to have emotions, to have feelings, and how your own personal emotions and biased factor into how you assess other people - whether it's more unfair to judge someone objectively without empathy, or subjectively with your own narrow, biased worldview.

All of that wrapped in a beautiful aesthetic, and a somber, subtle love story. Not even necessarily a romantic one - just pure love.

Highly, highly recommend.

Oyasumi Punpun*

Oyasumi Punpun is the most direct, honest, unfiltered, unbiased look at a human being's psyche I've ever seen.

It's also one of the most triggering bits of media on here, so proceed with caution.

Oyasumi Punpun follows the life of a single boy from his childhood, through his adulthood. Every single hardship, every single setback, every victory, every memorable experience, is shown to us through the lense of his own eyes. His childhood innocence, his teenage cynicism, his adolescent hopelessness, his own naivete, his own trauma, his own biased colour the way we view the world around him.

It genuinely makes you feel like you are wearing his skin and living his life through him.

Its disturbing, uncomfortable, dark, scary, and it's funny, hopeful, and just plain bizarre.

Great Pretender

Alright, back to light-hearted things !!!

Great Pretender might be the funniest show I've ever seen, to me, personally. Its bright, saturated, expressive animation compliments the absolute insanity of this show perfectly.

The most basic premise is that Great Pretender is about two con artists desperately trying to out-con each-other, and then it all goes downhill from there. It sets up so much of its payoff in such tiny little ways that by the time I got to the end I'd be beating myself up for missing a completely innocuous detail like a characters fucking watch, because it was actually a hint towards the overall plotline.

Its clever, it's funny, it keeps you on your toes, and it can be genuinely heartfelt and delightfully homoerotic to boot !!

It's absolutely worth the watch. Please give us season two. Please. PLEASE.

Dark Heaven*

Dark Heaven is what I'd recommend to someone if they told me they liked reading BL.

As a gay man in an interracial relationship, I've yet to find a piece of media that is quite so open direct, brutal and honest about the kids of issues that gay people, people of color, and people in interracial relationships can face.

To that end - it's extremely triggering if you're sensitive to those particular topics, as well as some other things. I'd very much recommend looking up a list of triggers first if you want to read it because it does get very, very dark. (And very NSFW). (Right from chapter one)?

But yeah - Dark Heaven is a beautiful, engaging, and at times very fluffy and humorous romance between two men, that is heavily overlaid with real actual issues people face every day (and some people don't face every day, but are nonetheless very real). It's honest, soft, and uplifting where it needs to be, despite not sugarcoating absolutely anything. It also does us the wonderful favour of not fetishizing gay men, not playing into weird creepy stereotypes, and not turning their relationship into something to gawk at.

And now, the one, the only, the piece of media that captured my heart and soul and will never ever let go:

Warrior Cats

Fucking Warrior Cats.

I have read every single book in the series. The series with over 100 books (depending on how you count them). Every official piece of media, I have consumed.

I've been reading this book series since I was 11. I've loved, cherished, lived and breathed it. I keep up with them to this day. I recently completed a chronological re-read. I've made OCs. I've roleplayed it in person and online - in fact I've been a mod in a DeviantArt roleplay group.

I HAVE A GODDAMN EXCELL SPREADSHEET WHERE I ANALYZE THE STATISTICS OF THE WARRIOR CATS NAMING SYSTEM

"Oh wow, sounds like the series is really good" WRONG

Warrior Cats is one of the worst written series I've ever read. It's poorly paced, it's full of plotholes, most characters are pieces of cardboard with a furry coat. It's dumb, nonsensical, inconsistent, and infuriating. It preaches the worst lessons I've ever heard, it's full of nothing but wasted potential, and I could honestly count the number of books I'd consider to be genuinely good on both of my hands.

Out of a 100. I've read a fucking hundred of these. Send help.

Why do I do this to myself? Why do I read them?

Because I'm autistic and my brain is holding me hostage.

Against my better judgement, I have such a deep and genuine love for this series, for the characters, for the content mostly created by the fans, for the world building.

And every single time one of these fucking cats dies, I end up tearing up.

I love Warrior Cats and you can pry it from my cold, dead hands.

...

And that's IT !!!

Thank you again for the ask, and thanks if you read it this far !! You can really tell which ones of these I'm currently hyperfixated on haha.

Again please practice discression in looking these up - I have absolutely no triggers, and so don't think twice about consuming really dark and heavy pieces of media. This is also why I didn't just opt to put in my own trigger warnings - because I don't know everything that could be potentially triggering, and I don't want to give off the impression that you know everything you need to, in case i missed anything.

Be careful and be safe !

[amewinterswriting]

Things I've learnt from writing fanfiction

Done is better than perfect. We all love our ideas (at least at first) and want them to be as good as they can possibly be and we're brimming with excitement over the shiny new idea. But then we get bogged down in the weeds of actually writing the damn thing and practicality sets in. Fanfiction really taught me to lower my own personal standards and get the story out there. Even if that story is different to the original idea. And sometimes - not always, but often enough - it actually morphs into something I feel is better than the original idea, or at least different in a good way. All of my ideas respond to the characters and what they want to do, and that often winds up drastically different to the original expectation. Learning to embrace that and write it regardless helped me to actually make some progress in my ever expanding WIP folder.

Feedback will not always take the form you want/if you want to get a critique you're happy with, you might have to do it yourself. Fanfiction is great for getting eyes on your work - there is a pre-existing fandom waiting for content and if you throw it up online, especially on a platform like AO3, you will almost certainly have eyes on it within 24 hours. What you cannot guarantee is if someone will like it, kudos it, comment on it or give it any kind of meaningful feedback beyond "this is great, I really liked it". I know a lot of people throw fanfic up for external validation...I don't. It's always nice if I get feedback that points out an element that the reader loved, or gently points out a typo, but I don't actually expect engagement of any kind. Which makes every single kudos feel like a gift, and every single comment is a priceless treasure. If I want more detailed analysis, I purposely seek out my trusted friends in the fandom, with the idea that they know the level of feedback I'm after and know I'll take critiques in the spirit that they're intended. But that's a relationship built on trust and mutual respect and takes time to cultivate. If you want immediate analysis, you need to put on your critical hat and do it yourself. You are always going to be your own worst critic - you know what you intended and how you might have fallen short of the mark. So be kind with yourself and let yourself embrace the things you did do well, too. Look out for the happy accidents.

Taking risks and writing outside your comfort zone. When writing original fiction, you might shy away from writing styles or scenes you have never written before. Commonly, things like smut scenes, action scenes and experimental sentence structures feel too 'risky' to attempt for the first time with your own original ideas. But fanfiction can be a great vehicle for experimenting with unconventional writing choices in a lower stakes way. Fanfiction gave me the confidence to write smut (and I'm damn good at it, if I do say so myself) but also a reason to write a football match (never again, way too many moving parts and characters, would literally rather write an orgy). I wrote a first person descent into immortal madness that started eloquently and ended with the character only able to form single, simple words. I could experiment with writing in first person, in third person with an omniscient narrator and in third person with a close perspective and work out the pros and cons of each for the stories I wanted to tell.

Learning to analyse characters and subtext. One of my biggest strengths when writing preexisting characters (in my opinion) is being able to nail the character voice and motivations. I'd love to say there's a trick to it, but it's just a lot of analysis of the original media and reading between the lines. Working out what we actually know about the character, then what we can assume or guess based on the interpretation of that knowledge. An adult character who adopted a surrogate father figure in adulthood and never speaks of their birth family probably didn't have a great childhood, though the exact reason why might be conjecture (and a great idea for a fic!). A forgotten hero who willingly succumbs to a curse in order to go somewhere familiar must be quite lonely, and is simply seeking to return home, even if it destroys him. Once you understand why a character has done a thing, it's quite easy to find reasons why they might do any number of other things. As long as you can justify why, you can push a character quite a bit further than you might imagine.

Writing for an audience might surprise you. Most of my fics are in very small fandoms. Or a very small niche in a larger fandom. (I genuinely think I have one of the longest fics in a given fandom. Which admittedly only consists of about 30 people worldwide.) So I never really expect much attention and it's just a nice happy accident when I do get anything as simple as a kudos. That said, some of my fics get patterns of kudos that are really interesting. I will often get kudos out of the blue from the same person on everything I have written for a specific rare pair (so rare in fact that I believe I'm one of 2-3 people to ever publish anything for it) - likely a curiosity click that turned into 'wait, I actually ship this now, dammit'. I have a couple of stories with a specific pairing that consistently gets new attention every time there is a big bang or mini bang for that pairing, despite me not being involved in either of those events. Lately, I've had a single guest kudos per day on a little OT3 piece consistently for the last few weeks. Which probably either means someone keeps coming back with different IP addresses every day (which is really flattering) or that this fic is being shared around a friend group, one link at a time (which I love the idea of, someone reading it and then knowing exactly who else would love to read it and it continues to be passed around).

Formatting for ease of reading. Different mediums are read in different ways. Fanfiction is predominantly read on smartphone screens, in my experience. So learning best practices for formatting web text is useful: frequent line breaks, allow text to be dynamically readjusted by the web browser, if you are embedding images make sure they can also dynamically adjust otherwise readers are zoomed into the top corner of the image and have to scroll left and right to piece together the entire work, etc. But fanfiction (and web-based media as a whole) also lets you experiment with things that wouldn't be seen as acceptable in a novel. I've recently published fic that changes fonts to indicate the text written in a letter, and managed to assign different characters their own font to imply characteristics visually (if you do this, try to limit yourself to the most common webfonts around as these are only visible if the reader's browser has these fonts installed). I'm toying with the idea of a future fic - which is all entirely written via the medium of letters between characters - to be entirely visual renditions of the letters to include interesting environmental details like blood stains or scratched out words or torn edges, but I would definitely want to include image ID for people who use screenreaders or struggle with certain fonts.

Pst, if you enjoyed this and want to throw a few coins at my Ko-Fi, that would be very nice and would support me rambling on about other writing topics or getting more of the actual writing done!

[hphmmatthewluther]

Weekend With the Grays - Day 1: Back at Winbourne

Here we go! Thanks to @endlessly-cursed for organising this lovely event, and for the wonderful character of Prim! This also features a mention of Malcolm, who belongs to @gaygryffindorgal, Helen, one of @camillejeaneshphm 's wonderful characters, and the mention of one of their others....

A small black carriage being pulled along by a single Abraxan thundered through the trees, the mighty stallion seemingly knowing where to go on instinct. Inside the carriage, a young man with bright scarlet hair tinkered and fidgeted with a collection of gears and cogs with a thin golden screwdriver. The woman sitting next to him placed her hand on one of his own, hers just about larger than his.

"Dear, it'll be alright, I promise." Helen Graham said to her husband, smiling down at him. She too had red hair, though hers was more orange. "We're here to celebrate, not to mourn or worry." she reminded him, her voice still retaining a Louisiana accent.

Fred sighed, leaning back on his seat. "I know, I know...I just wonder if he knows that."

"He's not your responsibility." Helen said, sharply. "If he does show up tonight, he knows full well that he's expected to be Merry."

"That's just the thing, though." Fred put the gizmo he was working on back in his pocket as the trees started to clear. "The grief hasn't dimmed his wits. He knows he's being unreasonable, but it's as if he physically can't help it. It must be driving him mad."

"Well, maybe this would do him some good. If Prim can't get him smiling again, no one can." Helen declared, as the huge estate very quickly appeared out their windows.

"I do wish you wouldn't jinx it like that, dear." Fred said, chuckling in spite of himself.

"I'll jinx you in a minute. I'm not having you both moping about, alright?" Helen said, a smirk on her face as the Abraxan pulled in outside Winbourne.

The pair got out, Fred checking the time on a gold and scarlet pocket watch of his own design. "Just on time, I think." He observed, putting it back in his pocket.

Helen leant forward and look at it before he stuffed it away, noticing a small hourglass at its center. "Don't tell me you put one of your Time-Turners in there?" she asked, incredulously.

"It's not a Time-Turner...it's also a Time-Teller, see?" Fred replied, that full grin returning to his face once more. "Come on, we ought to find our hosts."

They walked up the steps towards the gates, Fred pointing out things that caught his eye as they moved through the snow, Helen doing very much the same. It helped that Helen was able to use her Ancient Magic to keep the snow off of them, and Fred was able to slow down the snowflakes so they were suspended in time, very slowly completing their descent. Soon, though, they made it to the front doors, and the one on the left opened to reveal the Viscountess of Winbourne, Primrose Gray herself.

"Prim!" Fred exclaimed on impulse, earning him a raised eyebrow and laugh from his wife. At this point, of course, they had all known each other for years, and were used to Fred saying what came from the heart almost instantly. "...I mean, ah, Good evening, Lady Primrose. It truly is a pleasure to see you."

Prim smiled at the both of them. "Good evening, Fred, Helen. It is always wonderful to see you both. How was the journey? Not too snowy?"

Helen smiled a little and nodded. "Not for us, of course, or our Abraxan." she said, gesturing to the large horse. "A gift from Baroness Osada. She's got...quite a few equines back in Poland."

"I'm sure she does." Prim nodded, looking back briefly into the warm interior of the building. "Well, please, come right in, Malcolm will show you where you can put your coats."

Helen, who to this day had not acclimated to the British winter, nodded rapidly before following Malcolm inside. Fred took a step forward too, but paused. Prim stopped as well, looking over to him. "Something the matter, Fred?"

In his years dealing with it, Fred had found that he had developed almost a sixth sense when it came to telling where ancient magic was nearby. And he felt a very familiar source of it walking through the snow behind him. "...I do believe that's Mr Doherty approaching the gates."

Fred watched as Prim stepped outside, still a little shell-shocked that Atticus had even bothered to show up. Then again, at times the man now shuffling through the night looked like a stranger. His green eyes lacked that brilliant shine he had whenever he came up with a brilliant idea (or any idea for that matter), and his clothes seemed to flow around him, shifting in and out of the darkness. But what really surprised Fred was the fact that on his best friend's head, covering his jet-black hair, was a hat.

A Hat. If it were any other gentleman of the period, nobody would have batted an eye. In fact, it was what gentleman were expected to wear. Yet, here he was, in a hat, walking into Winbourne. Hell must have been as cold as it was outside that night. Fred wasn't sure what to do, but perhaps that was why he wasn't the one hosting. Atticus looked up at Fred and Prim, his expression unreadable. Lady Primrose kept the door held open. "Good evening, Atticus," she said, as the wind howled, the moon appearing briefly in between the clouds. "Welcome to Winbourne. Please, come in, you look frozen, poor thing."

Atticus blinked, clearly not having expected that. Fred recognised the expression now. It was the look he'd always give Lillian whenever she caught him out on a flaw in his logic. "...Thank you, Lady Primrose." he said, almost out of social etiquette. Good evening to you, too." And with that, he was up the stairs and walking into the house. Fred came in afterwards, followed by Prim. In a weird way, he had almost expected the cold to follow Atticus through into the house, but with Prim and Malcolm showing them to a cloakroom to drop off their cloaks and bags, Fred felt a small amount of warmth returning to him.

He looked over to his best friend. Maybe he felt it too.

[naoa-ao3]

Calling From The Heart

Gilgamesh had thought a cell phone would be a good thing. Thena wanders off some times and though he knows she can take care of herself he can't help but worry when she does. It's part of the reason they're so far from anywhere inhabited.

Just the same he fears that one day she might wander off in a fit of madness and never return. It's irrational but he can't help but feel it and so he buy's her a cell phone. It's more for his peace of mind than anything else.

She opens it at the table, a look of amusement spreading across her face. Phastos could have made something infinitely better but they're all living their separate lives now and this will work just as well.

She looks at it curiously and tears into the packaging, the little plastic thing small in her hand as she smiles.

"We have a phone." She say's.

He rubs at his neck. "Well, this one can leave the house and it came as a pair so I have one too."

She presses buttons and seems relaxed enough.

He cherishes moments like these. Moments when everything is calm and he has his Thena, the woman he knows and loves. The woman's he's fought along side of and called friend for all his waking life.

"Show me yours." She say's, leaning across the table.

It's a warm night but not so warm they can't go for a walk later.

He fishes his out and hands it to her and see's something bright in her eyes. "Mine is already set up. You'll have to activate yours." He say's.

They're simple gadgets.

Phastos would have been bored.

"I can call you on it from anywhere?" She asks.

He shrugs. "So long as it can get a signal."

There's a tower put up not too far away. He's found it isn't great but they should be able to get ahold of each other.

"You can even make it play music." He say's and she laughs like she hasn't been on the Domo, like she hasn't seen wonders lightyears ahead of this.

"You think I should?" She asks and she throws her head back and laughs loudly.

He's glad she likes it, it isn't much and it won't stop Mahd Wy'ry from taking it's toll but now at least he has a way to reach her if she ever wanders too far.

She breaks the phone of course.

A month later and she isn't thinking about it. She forgets and knocks it from a shelf and the damn thing breaks.

Gil cleans it up and see's her half apologetic expression. "I'll get a new one." He say's.

She smiles. "I'm sorry."

He knows she doesn't really care about the phone. She hasn't used it.

Thena was made for battle and a cell phone means very little to her but he buys her a new one anyway and set's it up for her, seeing her smile again when he puts it in her hand. She hasn't asked why he's bought it or why he bought the last one.

Maybe a part of her knows but he holds her hand for a moment just the same.

It's because he cares.

The next one breaks during a bad fit, when Mahd Wy'ry takes over her mind and the little thing falls from her pocket and slaps to earth, breaking just like the first one.

Gil buy's another and she say's she hadn't realized the second had broken.

"Well, this one is a newer model." He say's, putting it in her hand like the last one. "Maybe it will last longer."

Thena smiles and kisses his cheek, she isn't as affectionate as she once was. Mahd Wy'ry has taken that from her but every once in a while she's still the same old Thena, every once in a while she wants to spar but even that has gotten more difficult over the last few centuries.

She forgets when she spars, the madness comes to her and she suffers and for Gil it's one of the worst sights to behold.

He wishes he could take her suffering away, make it all right and good. He wishes he could build something like Phastos that could shield her form this pain and damage, that could slow her mind's descent but even Phastos doesn't have an invention like that and so instead sometimes he tells her some of Sprite's stories and things they've done in the past. Most times she say's she remembers but sometimes she admits she doesn't.

During those times he holds her hand and even if she never really cares about the phone he still buys her another when she breaks the third one.

His own is dated by then and yet he holds on to it, sentimental perhaps. . . they've never actually had to use them to call one another and so one day when he goes into town he uses his to call hers just for the heck of it.

It takes her a minute to answer and even then she sounds amused.

"Did you forget something?" She asks.

He's only gone for a few groceries.

"Ah, did we need any flour?" He asks.

He hears her hum and check. "Yes."

He can't say why but it amuses him to use the phone like this, to be able to just reach out and call her. Maybe he should get some of the others to give them their numbers. That would have been interesting, maybe even fun.

"I'll make sure to get it."

He hears her laugh softly. "Don't forget."

He doesn't and he never really did.

"I won't." He promises and he doesn't.

Thena never really cares about the phones. At one point he buys her one that can take pictures, descent pictures even and she's amused by it for a while, she sends him pictures when she goes for walks. Little things that she see's out, lizards and clouds and rocks.

He saves them to his own phone.

Snap shots of Thena's view.

He treasures them as he treasures her and when that phone breaks also he buys her another then as well.

He does get Sersi's number and they send her a selfie one day, the two of them in their home smiling at the camera, Thena has her chin jutted out proudly and Gil saves that picture as well.

No, even if Thena doesn't really care about the bit of plastic and metal he plans to keep buying her phones because it's worth it for the peace of mind and he likes being able to reach out to her. Maybe if she has one she'll be able to reach out when she needs to one day and he'll be able to pick up.

Maybe it'll help and if not, what's the worst it could cause?

He loves her and he wants to be there for her in any way he can.

[holdingcourtwiththevoid]

Changes in SGE movie 2 due to all the changes/things they removed from SGE movie one (this is assuming they make a second of course)

(Prefacing this by saying this is from a re-read of book two, i couldn't find my copy of book one but im sure there are more points in that book. Also this is very badly written as it was just me getting thoughts onto device whenever i thought them)

THIS CONTAINS SPOILERS FOR: The School For Good And Evil - movie, book one & book two (A World Without Princes)

(I’m gonna be using AWWP to refer to the second book throughout this)

- Re-locking their finger-glows - In the books Sophie and Agatha’s finger-glows (and thus magic) dont work in Gavaldon, which makes it all the more sus when Agatha’s glows from her wish in AWWP. however in the movie once they get home Agatha casually uses her finger glow to mess with those boys???

- Professor Evelyn Sader - They took professor (August) Sader totally out of the  movie so who the hell is Evelyn, will she be taken out completely? and if not, how will she be replaced considering she’s like the main villain/antagonizer.                - Also they made Lesso in love with Rafal?? Like if they make Lesso have evelyns role i will shoot myself. like she helps Sophie and Agatha in AWWP??

- Professor August Sader - August’s ghost is the one who helped Agatha figure out how bad Evelyn is in AWWP. ALSO BRAIN WAVE, they totally changed the way Rafal got killed in the first movie?? In the books (correct me if i get details wrong) August Sader gives up his body so that Rhian can kill his brother using it.

- the bridge - the bridge reflection - the way Agatha gets to the School For Boy in AWWP is through tricking the bridge reflection (exactly how she does it in the first book.) However as they took her doing that out of movie one how will the bridge being split be worked around now.                   - The bridge portal - in the movie the bridge appears to be readily accessible? with Agatha easily running across it to get to Sophie. in the books its only accessible through a water portal that is stored in the hedge statues (menagerie?) on the roof.

- the Doom Room wolf - the first real thing that Sophie ever killed, as of right now movie Sophie hasn't actually killed anything. However in AWWP the Doom Room Wolf showing as a phantom/Sophie killing real things again is used to sort of show her souls descent back to evil/Evelyn Sader making her appear to be.

- Tristan looks SO DIFFERENT - Tristan (or should I say Yara if were talking book 2 ;) ) was shown in the movie and looked VERY different from how he was described in the books which means will they remove the whole Yara thing?(and if they dont how stereotypical will it be)

- THE READER PROPHECY        - the way they totally removed 2 readers being took from the town every year is so fucking random and weird??? like it would've taken nothing to put it in and its like a huge reason as to why Sophie and Agatha are the way that they are (aka uber powerful)       - also the reason that readers are taken to the school is because August Sader told Rafal that his like one true love would come from beyond the woods? like ig it makes sense that Lesso was a reader and then in love with Rafal because of that whole prophecy but since they took it out why was she taken??

- the Storian - the storian is so huge in the movie??? Like how are they gonna hide it in AWWP now

- Pollux & Castor - theyre not that impactful I'm just SO MAD THEY REMOVED THEM BRUH

I may think of more things and come back to edit this but like aa

[eirianerisdar]

Don't have an AO3 account, so I'm going to flail about Icarus here --- my gosh, this chapter just came in and hit me in the stomach like a tennis ball. I genuinely love how you describe things, I can see them so clearly in my head. Like this:

'Above them, Carlos and Charles catch each other’s hands and brace the flats of their racing boots together, bringing their knees into their chests as their wings flare to catch the air; their descent turns into a controlled, but terrifyingly fast horizontal spin. Charles’s giggle rings across the paddock, mixed with Carlos’s dolphin-like cackle.'

This is so good! You captured the carefree recklessness so well!

And Lando --- bless his heart, he's doing his best, and that's all that can be asked, isn't it?

Those scenes with Jos were scary, and I don't get scared when I'm reading that easy. Someone get that man out of here, he's not helping anyone.

Poor Dan --- it's going to get worse, isn't it? At least he got to spend some time with Max.

I'm going to reread this when I'm off work, this was an awesome update!

Thank you for your love for Icarus! I know this is a terribly late reply to your ask but I finally have a little time (super typhoon's hitting my city tomorrow so I won't have to work, hurrah to that, here's to hoping my windows don't explode) so I'm getting to replies now!

As you can probably tell by now, I have a soft spot for Charlos. Ferrari soldiers who have learned to only trust in each other. Their journey of wings and trimming and Ferrari expectations is different to that of Daniel, but it's no less important.

I'm about 4400 words into the newest chapter of Icarus, covering Bahrain 2022, so as you might expect, Charlos feature prominently. I'm can't wait to share it with everyone. Fans of Charlos hurt/comfort, fluff, and whump might like this one.

Thank you so much for pointing out how scary Jos is. I think I was proudest of the writing in his section out of the whole chapter. One thing I wanted to make sure to convey is how every word and action of his is poison and gaslighting. From the moment Max turns up Jos belittles anything that makes Max Max and praises an idea of him, not Max himself.

Another thing I wanted to show was how Jos uses touch as a weapon (something I am unfortunately familiar with because of my parents). I wanted to remind the reader that each time Jos touches Max there is an intent to control. When he grabs Max's elbow to look at his wing he is taking away Max's autonomy for his wings like Jos forced him to trim his wings for the first time at eighteen. When he squeezes Max's arm at the entrance to the operating theatre he is reminding Max that Max has to trim, because Jos wants him to. When Jos gets mad at Max in the car about Daniel he grabs him by his most vulnerable part both mentally and physically - his newly trimmed wings. It says several things at once: that Max is only of value to Jos with his wings mutilated; that Jos can hurt Max at any time; and that any weakness, over trimmed wings or friends, will not be tolerated. It is sick sort of power play and it is very, very effective.

Anyway, I'm popping off tumblr to write some more. I hope to post the next chapter tomorrow.