#again i say: misery and the greatest happiness

[bitch-butter]

but also havve you Seen this is us, because that film felt like notes from ross' therapist turned into a script i was like 👀👀👀👀 sir we really gonna put our mommy issues out there? for everyone????? to see????? Alright. ok sir. alright.

anyway. i also would like. to know your insight. about the Back Packing Trip. because. well. i am. Curious.

i Have seen About Us and it was a sad bad film that made me feel sad and bad for ross as a person, and i thought it couldn't get any worse for him but then i remembered he made A Violent Man, and i was like that's the actual worse thing but Then i remembered it was originally called Ire so not only is he Bad but he's also Stupid.

let's talk about the backpacking trip

first of all, the whole thing is really giving the one scene of call me by your name i can recall where they're like romping in front of a waterfall, and i feel like this trip Also had like a soft malevolent energy from the beginning. 

(also not to be this way but like who backpacks, let alone as a pair? that's like, a front for something else lol. i knew like Peers who Had Money who backpacked together after high school and college but i Earnestly can't imagine what one Does backpacking across Europe together besides finger each other.)

like, it's very sad to imagine in hindsight because Young Ross probably thought this was the beginning of his new life and he was going to take his HBO money and his hot psycho and retire the both of them to Miami Beach or wherever gay people went in the late 90s to Settle Down. it Truly was probably like signed, sealed, delivered at the beginning of that trip, and the waves of young love carried them off on their journey like seraphims or whatever the fuck.

and on a level I'm sure eion Liked him, bc even though I think he should be thrown down a well i just can't Conceptualize him fucking ross, staying homies with him, agreeing to go on a homosexual backpacking trip together, and still seeming to be somehwhat cool with him if he Didn't. the dif is just that i think eion legit was fucking around and refusing to find out, like clearly he had a lot going on at that time and ross was probably just his friend who he fucked on occasion and that was it. it's not technically his fault that ross thought that eventually he'd stop fucking other people and only fuck him, it's trap we've all fallen into on the long road to self actualization. when people tell you who they are, believe them (i learned that watching Vanderpump Rules).

so in my onion this all comes to a head at the end of the trip, after they've been having this like fun sexy time for like a month and a half, when they hit up The Club in Prague and eion is Enjoying himself and ross demonstrably is Not. by now eion is like ok we've had fun c'est la vie and ross is Deeply betrayed by the fact that the love of his young life is making out with other people in The Club and is not being apologetic in the fucking slightest about it. but, again, you knew who this bitch was when you met him. 

and he subsequently has to place a drunken collect call to the area beneath an isolated demilitarized zone, which is where matt settle lives, sounding like - as @airsigns knows - the lyle menendez 911 call where he's screaming crying blowing his nose into the receiver begging for help getting flown out.

suffice it to say, eion stays on his european vaca prob getting fucked and sucked all day and ross has to flee (not unlike Taylor Swift on that boat in the blue dress). and deeply darkly he does think eion might come after him, and guess what? he didn't!

and like their whole relationship ever since has been fraught with the insane tension of eion thinking he did nothing wrong and they were just friends who had An Experience together, and ross who still looks at him like an incubus who ruined his life but who he can never be free of, not only because Band of Brothers became an iconic show and this fandom exists to praise them, but because as hard as he tries young love and first heartbreak doesn't ever Really go away.

[spicyhamsamson]

I am. So fucking tired of Batman being portrayed as a bad parent and a toxic person. And it’s so goddamn widespread. Fuck, it might be as bad as the whole “Superman being a kindhearted Boy Scout is boring” take.

I get it, the man’s not exactly stable, he watched his parents get murdered in front of him and spent years of his life training to fight crime dressed like a giant scary bat, of course he’s not perfect.

But to say that Bruce Wayne isn’t caring, isn’t empathetic, to call him abusive…it just misses the point of who the character is to me.

Why do you think he fights crime? Yes, part of it is because he’s bitter and sad because his parents were cruelly ripped from him as a child, and he’s lashing out against the corruption of his city. It’s arguably the focus of his earlier years. But he learns to become more than that. He learns to bring hope, a chance to be better.

Harleen Quinzel is the Joker’s right hand lady, but she’s also a victim of an abusive relationship and a woman with a surprisingly strong moral compass and a love for animals, and wants to get better. That’s why we see time and time again that he has a noticeable soft spot for her, because he knows that she’s a good person at her core.

Harvey Dent is a man who will decide someone’s fate on a coin toss(and a pretty inaccurate depiction of DID), but he’s also Bruce’s close friend who clearly needs help learning to live with his condition, rather than try to get rid of it, and someone who he still goes out of his way to visit, even after everything, because he recognizes he’s not just a criminal with a weird gimmick, he’s a man who is struggling with a condition that he’s mishandled his whole life.

Victor Fries is a cold, emotionless man who will callously discard allies and blame them for being careless, but he’s also a man who’s either lashing out because he had the love of his life taken from him, or just desperate to make sure she isn’t taken from him, and is willing to do anything just to guarantee her survival. Of course Batman would understand, his whole life was defined by having people he loved taken away from him.

Even the Joker, arguably one of the most morally bankrupt characters in all of fiction, is someone that Batman has offered a chance to. After the guy shoots the daughter of his friend, a girl he cared for like she was his own kid, and paralyzes her from the waist down, he tells the Joker that he doesn’t want to hurt him. He wants to get him help. He looks at this monster who has taken countless lives and says “You don’t have to be alone.”

For fuck’s sake, he sat with Joe Chill in his last moments so that he wouldn’t be alone. Joe Chill, the man who murdered his parents, who took so much from him, the person responsible for all of the misery and suffering he’s gone through. And he sits with the man to comfort him while dies. Do you know how much emotional intelligence and maturity that must take? To comfort someone who arguably ruined your life?

And you’re gonna tell me the man who did that would abuse his kids?

That he’d hold up the young man whose death was his greatest failure, the boy he grieved, and say this?

That he’d look his goddamn son in the eyes and say this to him?

Why the FUCK do you think he took in Dick Grayson in the first place? It wasn’t because he saw the kid and thought “Ah. A potential soldier.”, it was because he saw a boy experiencing the same heartbreaking loss he had so many years ago, and wanted to make sure he didn’t end up as bitter and miserable as he was.

Why do you think he smiled when Tim Drake presented him a broken watch for Father’s Day? Because he was just happy to see the boy alive and safe.

DAMIAN LITERALLY POINTED AT A COW AND SAID “I’m keeping her. She’s Bat-Cow.” AND BRUCE JUST WENT WITH IT. DIDN’T EVEN NEED TO ARGUE WHY BRUCE SHOULD LET HIM KEEP HER. HE SAID “this cow is my pet now” AND BRUCE SAID “aight, bet”.

The thing about Batman is that he wants to make sure nobody else ends up feeling the way he does. That’s not just about stopping a mugger so a boy’s parents aren’t gunned down. It’s about giving his loved ones the support and care that he couldn’t have, because it was taken from him. It’s about comforting someone who just went through a traumatic experience and letting them know that they’re going to be okay. It’s about going to someone locked away in a cell who thinks that they’re a lost cause and a burden to society and telling them that he wants to help them get better. It’s about EMPATHY and COMPASSION.

That’s what makes him a HERO. He’s meant to inspire us, to show us that we can have that same empathy for others around us, that we can turn our suffering into hope for a better future.

I just wish more people at DC would start recognizing that. But I might as well follow that example myself. Maybe through this struggle of having to see this hero mistreat the people around him and act like a grade-A jackass, people will start to recognize that missing compassion, and slowly but surely, it might come back. After all, what is this post, if not trying to bring attention to the matter in the hopes of fixing it?

[inklessletter]

The first time Steve hears Eddie singing that song, it's nothing but a absent-minded humming while he's doing something else. Writing something down, he thinks, for the campaign, probably.

Steve knows that song, that's why he smiled when he heard the soft, muffled tone falling out of Eddie's throat. Steve's heard Will singing it, and it's so painfully Jonathan, that song wears his signature all over. Maybe it's because it's The Smiths, and The Smiths is Jonathan.

Steve holds a smile and keeps himself busy, away from Eddie's eyes, because of course, that's what he does. No need to cause a scene, he could go on with his day without Eddie asking him "why are you smiling like an airhead?" Nah, thank you very much.

It's not his music scene, but Steve admits that it has been a favourite since it came out. It was just so goddamn relatable. He first heard it when Nancy dumped him, and sometimes, when he was working at Scoops, he could hear that song coming from the rock station Robin liked, coming from the backroom. No surprise she likes that song too.

Those were dark times for him. Summer job at Scoops, that is. It was a disappointment after another; no university, no high school anymore, no girlfriend, no status to hide after, no friends but the kids he drove all around Hawkins (and yet, three weeks away from Dustin, who was the only one who actually went to see him without asking for anything in return), the most embarrassing dry spell and having absolutely zero idea of what to do next. And that song just randomly filled the air and he indulged himself for two minutes to sulk on his own misery and he felt surprisingly less depressed right after.

So, yeah, that song holds a special meaning for him, a soothing balm for his broken heart, a good nostalgia from his darkest period.

And it comes back to him, from Eddie's voice, and it comes to stay the rest of the day. The rest of the week.

It makes him sad. A good sad, Steve guesses.

He's not really better than a couple years ago, but he's less scared, which is undeniably a victory.

He lets out a sigh and walks away from Eddie, leaves him there, happy and focused and begging.

Steve comes to notice that Eddie sings that song a lot, and he's making it his business not to ask, not to sing along, not to say or do anything that may reveal that Eddie's version of that song is becoming so fast the best he's ever heard.

The day the older side of the group go to see him play with his band, and at some point, he just sits and grabs an acoustic guitar and sings it, that one song, the world turns around. It's hard to keep a straight face, and to breathe regularly. A prayer, a begging in form of ballad, the room is in respectful silence, or if there is any background noise his brain makes the greatest job ignoring it.

Feels Robin's hand slipping through his palm and lacing fingers, but he doesn't look at her.

He can't.

His lips, disloyal and treacherous bastards, shape the last sentence of the song.

Lord knows it would be the first time.

The last chord fills the negative space and the bar noises are there again out of the sudden, and some of his friends are shouting nice things, and Eddie is graciously discarding the acoustic guitar and grabbing his sweetheart again and Steve is hoping to go unnoticed when he wipes his face in a quick movement.

He knows Robin sees it, but she says nothing, merciful and elegant.

The gig goes on for a couple of more songs and it's far too soon when Eddie is there, letting himself fall on the stool next to him, all pleased and content and full of black smudged eyeliner and Steve knows he has to say something to him, so he opts to go with, "I really like that song."

It doesn't need any more saying, because Eddie grins and fucking bites his bottom lip, and looks at the floor like it's the most interesting thing in the world, leaning on the bar next to Steve, and Steve knows, he just knows Eddie knows which one he's talking about.

"Yeah. I bet you do."

He doesn't tease, doesn't go with the rancid bUt YoU lIsTeN tO tEaRs FoR fEaRs In YoUr CaR aLl tHe tImEeE shit like the kids like to whine. He doesn't pretend not to know which one he's talking about. Steve smiles at him, buys the guy a beer.

"So, Robin told you? About, uh, about the song."

He tries a bit too hard to look unaffected, but the label of his cold beer bottle has seen better days. Steve feels Eddie going still and turning his head to face him, wielding such soft, almost pitiful expression that makes Steve's inside go still, lungs not working, muscles tense, blood frozen in his veins, and somehow scalding in his cheeks. He dares to look at Eddie, who whispers, "She did not."

The time stops, or so Steve thinks, when he turns his head to look at Eddie, not really moving an inch.

The question goes unspoken.

The answer is one second too long of both their gazes taking residence in the other guy's lips.

And the song comes alive in Steve's mind, and his lips move again.

So for once in my life

let me get what I want

Lord knows, it would be the first time

[sukunas-wife]

the Dadkuna series is great!!! Sukuna isn’t my main character that I like in jjk but this series has me SAT and WAITING for the next upload! I’ve always wondered though what momkuna and dadkuna’s relationship dynamic is. We get that sort of in how they met but what about when their relationship is established? I get the sense that obviously dadkuna would quite literally do anything for her but what exactly goes through his mind when he thinks about her?

Oh? Guess whose back 😎🤧

Me- I’m sickly too 🤭 but! The blog is picking up 🥺 and I’ve been working on this for a good time so here you go 🤍🤍🤍

(Indentions are thoughts, things he didn’t actively say out loud 🥺🤍)

Lord Ryomen Sukuna, though emotionally stunted and constipated, loves his wife. Would level cities and kill men easily if she didn’t have such a strong hold in him.

But he’s a misogynist at heart to an extent. He wants you at home with his kids being his cute little wife that he knows he can always come home to. It was your overwhelming passion for helping women who couldn’t bear children that convinced him he could let you live your life, as long as he knew he had people there to look over you when he couldn’t.

He appreciates the fact that when he’s tired, covered in blood that’s not his own, and carrying the exhaustion of his war ridden day, there you are rushing to him when he enters his temple. Disregarding your fine silk robes and the blood partly way on his body. The way you cling to him, always so happy and relieved to see him come home.

The first time he came home after being gone for so long, he remembers how you cried and held on to him, your anguished filled cries when you cried about how you thought he was never coming back, how you were scared he’d left you alone. He remembers how his hands found your waits holding you a bit away, another hand coming to cup your face, thumb wiping away your tears when he looked at you with tired eyes, “It would take the militia of this land's greatest sorcerers to even consider preventing my way back to your embrace.” Your teary eyes softened before you buried your face in his chest again hugging him and clinging to him.

He longed for that feeling of your embrace whenever he would leave you behind, he could deny it but on his way home to you, his heart ached and longed to feel your embrace and hear your praises of how he had returned. You cried no more because you were filled with that confidence he would always return.

——————

He’s a traditional man with his one form of values, not once did he long for sexual pleasure or was he consumed with lust. Misery, pain and the screams of his victims fueled him and filled him with an immense pleasure no woman’s body could ever possibly offer him.

They were all the same, sultry, scandalous, attention seeking harlots, prostitutes and women. Thinking they could better their lives if they could slip into his bed. They were wrong, every woman who he allowed to enter his bed chamber under these pretences had walked in with starry eyes and ambition. Only to cry and scream for their life while he slowly dug his nails into their flesh tearing them all apart, slowly and agonisingly. That was until he saw you that one day, any girl of age would’ve started to present themselves to him in shy or subtle ways hoping to catch his eyes. There you were kneeling out of respect in his presence, scared you had offended your lord.

‘Oh? Is this little morsel afraid?’ Fear filled and humbling yourself before him. You couldn’t look at him, there wasn’t an ounce of “I want to sleep with this man.” And yet these feelings caused a sentiment in the depths of his chest, something stirred inside him, you head captured his interest (non sexual at this point). ‘Hmm?, this will be a fine pet to break.’

You were a phenomenon in the temple, one he wanted to study, to take into his clawed hands and mould, twist, stretch and push to the edge and then just over the point of breaking to see what would become of you. Yet, once he had you in hands reach, once you were close enough for him to graze your skin with his nails… he didn’t treat you like a common daisy or water Lilly, no he took you into his hands like a Lotus floating on the water's surface. Making elegant work and taking care of your delicate bloom. You would be his delicate lotus that no one else would ever take the joy in having.

——————

“My gratifying queen, My delicate lotus, My benevolent wife.” Words he doesn’t speak so freely, he whispers them against your skin whenever you’d sleep by his side.

Delicate words and honeyed names had never once crossed his mind in his existence. Yet here he was, allowing himself to indulge in the smallest amount of vulnerability with these words. The press of his feverish kisses against your neck and cheeks between every word.

‘My little beloved pet, so tired, sleeping away the wares of today. How could something so small and insignificant like you cause this shift in my existence hm?’

The back of his hand brushing hair away from your face, nails grazing the side of your face lightly, he held you in his embrace watching you. Two arms securely around you, one supporting his head, the other kept grazing your skin. You’d stir in your sleep when he shifted slightly away from you to lay on his back. You’d become so used to his body heat even on the hottest days you’d search him out half awake.

‘My little lotus,’ he closed the space between you, pulling you into his side again, ‘rest your weary head without worries of tomorrow, I’m here to hold you now.’

He wouldn’t admit it, he didn’t even know it at that moment, but he was absolutely smitten with you in ways he had yet to comprehend. But it showed in his subconscious movements. A hand on your lower back or waist guiding you, knowing you’re close and safe.

Bringing home little jewels and trinkets he’d usually never spare a second glance . That is until a stone sparkles in the light of his flames and he stops briefly to take a close look.

My queen would look Devine with these adorning her neck. These stones would make fine pieces for my wife.

It was a shock when he came home one night waking you when he sat on the bed. You sat up sleepily while he handed you a bag of precious stones and jewels telling you he had brought you a gift, a free hand of his brushing your hair back and bringing you closer by the back of your head so he could kiss your lips.

——————

It was your wedding, there you were standing beside him in the Ceremonial Robes. You stood on his right, his eyes looking down at you.

Hmm, What an enticing display, to have my little pet dressed up so exquisitely for all to see and admire.

Even more enticing to know soon you’ll be round with my child, what an ethereal sight you will be laid out in silk robes and swollen carrying my legacy

My delicate little lotus, my malevolent queen, my gratifying and honourable wife. Perhaps these thoughts never be spoken aloud with heavy sentiment. But I vow myself to you in this instant, that I will do all to assure our future, our health, our children and our endless lives.

I will assure your hand never be left cold nor alone as long as I can take it. nor will it ever be lifted in vain or to labour. Your stomach is never empty as I will assure you have the finest wine and a feast every night if it’s what your little human heart desires, your head will always have a place to rest even if it is only on my chest. Your nights will never be cold, your days will never be short, your loneliness will exist no longer, and your heart will be mine, and mine will be yours.

It wasn’t all he told himself, but it was in the moment you felt a warm sensation against your skin, on your chest below the centre of your collar bone but above your breast was the same mark you’d seen on his tongue very few times.

Ryomen Sukuna DID NOT enjoy the thought of staining your teeth black, instead he took your hand, as if vowing and brains you, the ring finger of your left hand, the base faded to a black band, above it a snark mark matching your chest and another thin black bank, just below your nail was another black band. That’s how your little husband decided to present you as his.

Tag List: @sad-darksoul @satorisgirl @bontensbabygirl @lupita97lm @queen-luna-007 @venus-seeks

@bofadeezs

@sakuxxi @mercymccann @certainduckanchor @najiiix @bakugou-katsukis-wife @amitiel-truth @souyasplushie @mylovelessnightmare @ynjimenez @dolliira

Broken :( @simpforyoubitch @domainofmarie @ilovemybabies378 @anyaswlrd @cyder-puff

[lendeah]

Happy Memories

Also on AO3

Summary: Based on this line from the epilogue- One night he tells you that these six months of happy memories are the counterweight to two hundred years of misery.

Pairing: Astarion x Fem!Reader.

Word Count: 2.8k

Tags:  Fluff and Smut, 6 months post-finale, Lovemaking, Domestic Fluff, Cunnilingus, Vaginal Fingering, Vaginal Sex, Love Confessions, it's so soft really, Soft Astarion, they have just been through so much, Tooth-Rotting Fluff.

WARNING: +18, minors DNI

The past few months had been a trying time, both of you struggling to come to terms with the events that had transpired. The weight of it all hung heavy in the air, leaving you to navigate through nightmares and Astarion's bouts of dissociation. Yet, somehow, you were making progress. Together.

You had taken it upon yourself to find a cure for Astarion's condition, a challenging task made even more difficult by his returned aversion to sunlight. But it gave you both a purpose, something to look forward to - a brighter tomorrow. The greatest source of joy in your present life was the simple act of lying down next to him every night, enveloped in each other's arms with the comforting knowledge that tomorrow you would once again wake up without the constant fear of losing him.

Together, you had found solace in a serene cottage by Riverbend, settling into a comfortable routine. You delighted in gardening and cooking, while he took care of household chores and lovingly mended and sewed your clothes. On lazy afternoons, you would paint alongside him as he engrossed himself in endless books. It was pure bliss, and you were content with your perfectly imperfect life together.

As the two of you prepared for bed, Astarion wrapped his arms around your waist from behind. In the past, such an intimate gesture would have caught you off guard, but he has since learned to let his guard down and embrace moments of tenderness. Though he still struggles at times, he relishes in this display of affection.

"Everything alright, my love?" you asked, resting your head against his.

Astarion's arms tightened around you as he nuzzled his face into the crook of your neck. "Alright would be an understatement," he murmured, his voice low and warm against your skin. "I am absolutely enchanted, my dear."

You turned around in his embrace, wrapping your arms around his neck. "I'm glad to hear that, because I am enchanted too," you said softly.

Astarion leaned in, his lips brushing against yours in a delicate kiss. You hummed against his mouth, savoring the familiar feeling of his soft lips moving against yours. He pulled back slightly, forehead resting against yours as he whispered, "I have something I want to show you."

Curiosity sparked within you, but you simply nodded and followed him as he led you outside. The moon was high in the sky, casting its soft glow over everything. Astarion took your hand and led you toward the nearby meadow. And that's when you see it: he has prepared the scenery around to look like the one from the first night you shared together, back at the Grove.

"What is this?" You say, with a huge grin decorating your face.

Astarion's crimson eyes shone with excitement as he turned to you. "This, my love, is a recreation of the night we first shared at the Grove," he said proudly.

Tears pricked at your eyes as you took in the scene before you. The soft grass beneath your feet, the gentle rustling of trees in the distance, and a small basket filled with wine and various snacks, right next to a small blanket.

"I thought we could relive that enchanted evening, but this time we'll make it truly unforgettable." His fingers caressed your cheek, gently wiping away a stray tear, as he added with a cheeky smile, "Because let's be honest, the first time was... underwhelming."

You smiled at him, grateful beyond words for his thoughtfulness. "Thank you, my love, this is incredible," you said, your voice thick with emotion.

Astarion's smile widened and he pulled you into a tight embrace. "Anything for you," he whispered into your ear.

You stayed wrapped in each other's arms for a while, just enjoying the peacefulness of the moment. Eventually, Astarion led you over to the basket and poured some wine for both of you. As the night went on, the two of you talked and laughed, reminiscing about your early days together and all the adventures you had been on since then. And with each passing moment, it felt as if the world had paused just for the two of you, as if all the events of the previous months were leading up to this one perfect moment.

As midnight approached, Astarion stood and held out his hand. "Shall we dance under the moonlight?" he asked with a playful glint in his eyes.

You raised a teasing eyebrow, "Has the spirit of Wyll possessed you?"

Astarion chuckled, his eyes sparkling with mischief. "Oh, my dear, you wound me! I assure you, this idea is entirely my own. Besides, who needs Wyll's spirit when I have enough charisma to ignite the heavens themselves?" He flourished a grand gesture, pretending to adjust an imaginary top hat atop his head.

You couldn't help but giggle at his theatrics. "How could I resist such an offer from the ever-enchanting Astarion?" you teased, accepting his outstretched hand.

He pulled you close, his hand resting firmly on the small of your back as he led you in a slow and graceful waltz beneath the soft glow of the moon. The world around you seemed to fade away as you slowly swayed in each other's arms.

"I don't remember this happening on our first night," you murmured against his ear, remembering how different that moment had been compared to this one.

A low, seductive chuckle escaped Astarion's lips as they brushed against your skin. "And pray tell, darling, what do you recall?"

"I remember you trying to seduce me and then almost draining me dry," you teased, a mischievous glint in your eye.

Astarion let out a dramatic gasp. "Such slander! I would never do such a thing!" He pressed his hand to his chest in mock offense.

You both laughed, the sound echoing through the quiet night. It was a stark contrast to the fake seducing words and lack of feelings of that first night. Now, he was completely at ease, his true self shining through without any pretense or hunger clouding his mind.

"But it was still special," Astarion whispered, stopping the dance to pull you closer to him. "It's what brought us to be here now, and I wouldn't trade that for anything."

You smiled up at him, your heart fluttering at his words, as you leaned in to kiss him. It was a gentle and sweet kiss at first but soon turned more passionate as Astarion deepened it. His hands grabbed your thighs and picked you up to press you up against a nearby tree, lips trailing down your neck.

"This is bringing back memories," You say breathlessly.

You could feel him smirk against your skin "Do you really think so? Perhaps I should refresh them even more."

His declaration sent a wave of warmth through your body and you leaned in to kiss him again, eager to lose yourself in the moment. His hands were now unbuttoning your shirt and you gasped as they reached your bare skin. You looked at his hooded eyes, and with a playful smile, offered your neck to him.

However, Astarion pulled away slightly and looked into your eyes, with something like doubt swimming in them. "I want this to be real," he said earnestly. "Not like last time."

You nodded in understanding and smiled softly at him. "It already is," you reassured him, cupping his cheek with your hand.

A small smile tugged at the corners of his lips as he leaned in to kiss you again, but this time it was slow and tender – an exchange of affection rather than something laced with hunger or deception. Astarion picked you up again and gently set you down on the soft blanket that he had laid out earlier. He leaned in to kiss you once more, his body hovering over yours.

As you entwined your fingers in his soft, white locks, you pulled him towards you, deepening the kiss. His hands explored every curve and dip of your body, sending pleasurable shivers down your spine with each touch.

As his lips trailed from yours, they left a tingling sensation in their wake. Your hands eagerly reached for the hem of your shirt, pulling it over your head and tossing it aside. Astarion's hungry gaze followed every movement as you unbuttoned your jeans and let them fall to the ground. With a grin, he helped you out of your remaining clothes before stepping back to fully appreciate your naked form glistening under the moonlight. His eyes traced every curve and dip of your body before meeting your gaze once again, a hunger evident in his expression.

"You are breathtaking," he murmured, and then pulled you into another passionate kiss. Your fingers traced the lines of his bare chest, feeling the softness of his skin. You tugged at his shirt, silently urging him to remove it, and he obliged with a sly smile. His pants soon followed, revealing the chiseled contours of his body. Your hands traced over every ridge and dip of his body, feeling the coolness of his skin against your fingertips.

"I want you to bite me," you whispered urgently.

Astarion leaned down to press his lips against the nape of your neck, making you gasp and arch into him as he traced his fangs along your pulse point. Your skin tingled with excitement as his hands eagerly explored your body before gripping your hips, sending shivers of desire through you.

"Tell me if it becomes too much," he whispered against your skin before sinking his teeth into your neck gently.

You gasped at the sensation – a mix of pleasure and pain that sent sparks flying through your body. Astarion's grip on your hips tightened as he drank from you, his other hand reaching up to cup one of your breasts. You moaned as he continued to drink from you, feeling the pleasure building up inside of you.

After a few minutes, Astarion pulled away and licked the wound on your neck before kissing it gently. His red eyes met yours and they were glowing with a mix of emotions – desire, love, and something else that you couldn't quite pinpoint.

"I'll never grow weary of that," he murmurs, before leaning in for another kiss. Astarion's lips trailed down your neck and onto your chest, leaving a trail of kisses as he made his way towards your breasts, taking a nipple between his lips. Every touch of his tongue sent sparks of pleasure through your body and you arched your back in response.

"Astarion..." you panted.

The sound of his name on your lips only spurred him on, and he began to suckle harder, moving to tease the other nipple with his fingers. His hand moved from your breast to between your legs, and you gasped as his fingers found your wetness. He slipped his fingers between your soaking folds, skillfully rubbing and circling your clit. The combination of his mouth and fingers sent waves of pleasure through you, making you whimper and writhe beneath him.

"Please," you whimpered, unable to hold back any longer.

Astarion smirked against your skin before moving down your body, his lips leaving a trail of kisses until he reached the apex of your thighs. He looked up at you with hunger in his eyes before diving in with his tongue, causing you to cry out in pleasure.

His tongue flicked against your clit, sending waves of ecstasy through your body. You tangled your fingers in his hair, urging him on as he continued to please you.

"Astarion...oh gods..." you cried out, your voice thick with need. His fingers thrusted into you relentlessly, syncing perfectly with the skilled movements of his tongue on your swollen clit. Your body arched and trembled with each wave of pleasure, every muscle tensed in anticipation.

"Inside...now..." you begged, unable to find the words to express the ache for him to fill you completely.

Astarion looked up at you from between your legs, his eyes filled with lust and desire, "Whatever you wish, dearest."

With a swift movement, he withdrew his fingers from your slick entrance and aligned himself at your dripping core. He pushed in slowly, savoring the tightness and heat engulfing him. A moan escaped your lips as you were filled to the hilt, waves of pleasure washing over you. Your bodies melted together, panting and trembling with pleasure. He then leaned in close, and gently rested his forehead against yours, breaths mingling as you held each other.

"I never envisioned discovering someone like you," Astarion said softly, "You have made these six months of happy memories counterweight two hundred years of misery."

Tears prickled at the corners of your eyes at his words. The weight of his words, the realization that you have brought true joy to someone who has known nothing but misery, crushes you in the most beautiful way.

"I...I love you," you managed to choke out, your heart overflowing with emotion as you reached up to touch his face, tracing the lines of his cheekbone with trembling fingers. "More than anything."

Astarion's eyes softened at your words, a small smile tugging at his lips. He leaned down to capture your lips in a gentle kiss, pouring all of his emotions into it. You both stayed like that for a few moments, just lost in each other.

"I love you more than my own existence," he whispered against your lips, his voice raw with emotion. "You are my everything."

Without hesitation, he leaned down to capture your lips in a desperate kiss, and you savored the feeling of his lips against yours. Eventually, he starts slowly moving inside of you, each thrust calculated and precise as he intertwines his fingers with yours. You moaned and wrapped your legs around his waist, still lazily kissing him. Astarion continued to move inside of you with slow, deliberate strokes, making love to you in the most intimate way. Every movement is filled with intense desire and tenderness, eliciting uncontrollable moans of pleasure from your lips.

"You feel so good," he whispered against your lips, his voice filled with adoration.

Your legs wrapped around his toned waist, your fingers tightly gripping his as he moved inside you. Each thrust was met with a moan from your lips, the heat and friction between your bodies igniting a passionate fire within you. He held you close, his lips eagerly finding yours in between each deepening thrust. The intensity and intimacy of the moment had you lost in a sea of pleasure, feeling every inch of him as he poured his love into every movement. Your body trembled as you neared your climax, unable to contain the overwhelming sensation any longer. Sensing this, he shifted his hand between your bodies, his fingers finding their way to your clit once again.

"Oh gods," you cried out as the pleasure intensified. Your body trembled and your breath quickened as Astarion's fingers moved expertly over your skin. You dug your nails into his back, desperately trying to hold on as he brought you closer to the edge.

"I'm close," Astarion grunted, his own body trembling with need.

"I am too," you whimpered.

Astarion's movements became faster and more urgent, his own moans mixing with yours in the stillness of the night.

"Look at me when you come," he demanded, and you obeyed.

Your eyes locked with Astarion's, the intensity of his gaze sending chills down your spine. As you reached the peak of pleasure, your body trembled and your walls pulsed around him. You couldn't hold back any longer and cried out his name, drowning in waves of pure ecstasy, and Astarion followed suit with a guttural moan. As you both lay there, breathless and entwined, every cell in your body buzzed with contentment and fulfillment.

"I love you," you whispered, your voice raw with emotion.

"I love you too," Astarion replied, pressing a kiss to your forehead before rolling off of you and pulling you close to his chest. You rested your head on his shoulder, feeling content and complete in his arms.

You both lay there for a while, basking in the afterglow of your lovemaking, until eventually, Astarion spoke up.

"Even if we don't find the cure, being here with you is enough," he said softly, his voice filled with emotion. He paused for a moment, his eyes on yours, searching for the right words. "This is all I ever wanted," he says softly, placing his hand on your cheek.

You looked up at him, a small smile on your lips as you traced your fingers along his chest.

"I feel the same way," you replied, resting your head back on his chest. "But we can't give up hope just yet."

Astarion nodded, his arms tightening around you. "We won't" Astarion replies. He pulls you in close to him, squeezing you tightly. "We'll find the cure. I know we will." A faint smile tugged at the corners of his lips. "And I will spend the rest of eternity making it up to you."

[nyarlathesleeper]

The Llamas With Hats Epilogue

So like any normal Jason Steele mega fan (I'm calling us The Steelers (Copyright be damned)), I was present for the Llamas With Hats Epilogue, a 20 minute append to the 11 year old series about a mad scientist llama with a particular skill for horrific contraptions involving human meat. He also wears a hat. I'm hardly the only one to have caught onto this story as an allegory for abusive relationships, and the epilogue continues this idea wonderfully.

Carl, having killed himself after his creations destroyed the entire world, finds himself in the afterlife. He's still haunted by the voice of his only friend, fellow llama Paul (also behatted). The epilogue is almost entirely focused on Carl and his coming to understand his greatest crime. Not the global genocide, or all the horrific torture he put countless people through with his many meat monsters, but hurting his llama boyfriend, the one person he actually cared about. Kinda.

Carl is a fascinating character, and the epilogue I think does a great job at outlining precisely what he is. The series finale is perfectly somber. No jokes, no laughs, just misery. That's the state of the world, and it's the state of Carl. But the epilogue does something to recontextualize the finale, in a way some may not like. The finale leaves the impression that Carl is well and truly miserable. This remains intact. But it also leaves you with the impression that he genuinely cared about and missed Paul. And while it's certainly possible that Carl came to genuinely miss Paul over the course of time between their last meeting and the finale, I think the epilogue does a much better job outlining Carl's exact relationship with Paul.

Carl, in his own words, is a dangerous sociopath with a long history of violence. Throughout the series, it's shown that he and Paul spend a lot of time together. Vacations, time at home, walks through the park, there does seem to be a functioning relationship there on some level. But in the series itself, all we see is a version of Carl that is well and truly a horrific monster. A monster who seems to primarily appreciate Paul because he's someone who puts up with Carl and his antics. Carl seems to have fun antagonizing Paul with his many monstrosities. When Paul finally leaves, Carl is desperate to get him back. The epilogue makes it clear that this isn't out of genuine love, it's just possessiveness.

Carl is stated very clearly to be beyond redemption. And though I'm typically of a forgiving mentality, I'm comfortable saying that a llama who makes meat dragons out of orphan baby hands for fun probably isn't someone who can be redeemed. Carl is very resistant to this idea at first. He thinks that Paul will forgive him if he just never does anything wrong again. And even after he dedicates himself to this idea, he can't help but enact violence on the first thing he sees. It takes remembering that Paul is dead, and that he was the one responsible for Carl to realize that he isn't healthy for Paul. That for them both to move on, that he needs to let go. For both their sakes.

Carl is probably the most deplorable character in Filmcow's catalogue. Not even Jenny with her Pizza Hut is that evil. But he's allowed peace. He's not punished forever, it's unlikely it'd even do anything if he was. He's just left to make what was probably the hardest decision he possibly could. He became the acorn. He let go. He gave himself up so that something else could live and be free.

You can't even really describe this as a selfless act, though. Paul is dead, he'll never know what Carl did. He'll never know, and he probably doesn't care. There's something beautiful about that. Carl making a sacrificial decision for nobody but himself. Even the most evil, irredeemable monster is capable and deserving of inner peace. The destruction of the world and death of every living thing didn't make Carl happy. Getting everything he ever wanted just made him miserable. Letting go is the only way for Carl, and abusive people like him, to ever achieve peace.

This all being said, the toxic llama yaoi does go crazy hard, 10 "CAAAAAAARRRLLLLLLLLL"s out of 10. Stay hydrated, eat your tube meat, and keep an eye out for phantom impostors. No, not like amogus.

[belladonazeppole]

The Other Side

(This takes inspiration by @adyophene "The Greatest Showcat" art, part 2 is coming soon!! The Other Side and Rewrite the Stars are such royalflush songs.)

Let's begin, shall we?

'Right here, right now I put the offer out.' Maybe it was the booze, 'I don't wanna chase you down I know you see it, you run with me and I can cut you free.' But even if it was, what he was saying is true, Lucifer wanted to see Husk free and would help him.

'Out of the drudgery and walls you keep in so trade that typical for something colorful.' Even he could see that Husk grump and uncaring behaviour was a mask, well some of it, but that the demon cat was more than that.

And Lucifer wanted to help him to show it.

So he would take the leap.

'And if it's crazy, live a little crazy you can play it sensible, a king of conventional or you can risk it all and see.' Yes it was insane and a silly idea but for the stars he desire that everybody could see Husk as he does.

In a bold move Lucifer holds Husk hands, 'Don't you wanna get away from the same old part you gotta play cause I got what you need, so come with me and take the ride.' He knew that Husk was more than just a drunk and Alastor companion maybe if people see him as he did Husk.

A true showman.

He let go of his hands in summons his cane. He would do this right, 'It'll take you to the other side! Cause you can do like you do or you can do like me stay in the cage, or you'll finally take the key.'

He make him free again.

He opens his wings and jumps, 'Oh, damn, suddenly you're free to fly! It'll take you to the other side." He offers his hand, waiting for Husk.

Lucifer smiles when Husk took it.

And then gets confused when he pulled him down.

'Okay, my friend, you want to cut me in well, I hate to tell you, but it just won't happen.' Husk say as kindly as he could. He can see what the king was trying to do and he apreciates he truly does but he can't let this go beyond an idea. He just can't, 'So thanks, but no I think I'm good to go cause I quite enjoy the life you say I'm trapped in.'

He doesn't.

He hates his life.

The chains.

The fakes smiles.

All that fucking bullshit.

But Husk doesn't want to involve Lucifer in his mess.

'Now I admire you, and that whole show you do you're onto something, really it's something but I live among the wanes, and we don't pick up apples.' He sounded like an asshole and ungrateful for refusing such offer but if that could destroy that fantasy so beat.

Even if it make hating himself even more.

'I'll have to leave that up to you.' He has to break it. 'Don't you know that I'm okay with this downtown part I get to play, cause I got what I need and I don't want to take the ride." He would keep playing as Alastor pet since he belong to the radio demon.

But god, he can't see Lucifer, 'I don't need to see the other side so go and do like you do I'm good to do like me ain't in a cage, so I don't need to take the key.' He wasn't in a cage but chains were the key didn't exist.

Since he would never let him go.

'Oh, damn, can't you see I'm doing fine. I don't need to see the other side' Since the only side that existed for Husk was under him.

He needs to leave, he was ready to run away from the king.

But the king wouldn't let him go so easy.

Lucifer crossed his arms and looked at Husk, 'Now is this really how you like to spend your days? Whiskey and misery, and loneliness and gambles.' He knew that Husk was trying to get him to forget about the idea but the king won't let him.

He wouldn't give up without a fight.

Neither does Husk.

'If I were mixed up with you, I'd be the talk of the city. Disgraced and disowned, another one of the clowns.' The sinner bitterly said at the king, he felt tired of refusing the possibility of happiness.

Even if he had to do low blows and hurt Lucifer in process.

It hurt that Husk said that. Lucifer knew how his inaction hurt the family reputation, 'But you would finally live a little, finally laugh a little just let me give you the freedom to dream and it'll wake you up and cure your aching.' But he won't give up and let him pushing him away.

He watch it how Husk was started to leave, he needs to said something soon, 'Take your walls and start 'em breaking now that's a deal that seems worth taking but I guess I'll leave that up to you.' He make his offer hoping that Husk accept it.

Lucifer would make this gamble and make it highroller.

'Well, it's intriguing, but to go would cost me greatly.' Fine he would entertain him, 'So what percentage of the show would I be taking?'

At smirk forms in the king face, 'Well, fair enough, you'd want a piece of all the action I'd give you seven, we could shake and make it happen.' He was joking of course, Lucifer would give him everything to his friend but a little banter never hurt anyone.

'I wasn't born this morning, eighteen would be just fine.' The sinner said with a smile, he was an gambler after all, and you can only win if the stakes gets higher.

'Why not just go ahead and ask for nickels on the dime?'

'Thirthy.' Husk wanted more, he started to walk closer to the king.

'I'd do twenty.' Please ask me for more the king mentally beg.

'Forty.' He was getting closer to what he desire.

'Maybe thirty.' I'll give you everything.

'Fifty.' His ultimate fantasy. An equal partnership. Husk waited for Lucifer finally laugh at his face.

But it never came.

He just smirks and Husk just knew that he accept his "offer."

In that moment something click in their minds and the both fly in joy, 'Don't you wanna get away to a whole new part you're gonna play.' In that moment Husk just let his body and mind going allow with the fallen angel, 'Cause I got what you need, so come with me and take the ride to the other side.'

'So if you do like I do.' Lucifer said while making some ducks made of light appear, 'So if you do like me.' Husk in retaliation pulls his hat and a little Lucifer puppet comes out.

The king smiles at the trick which make Husk smile in return and If the king wanted to see his magic he would show him one hella of a show.

Just for him.

And maybe himself.

They were flying like idiots, making magic tricks and laughing of said tricks, 'Forget the cage, cause we know how to make the key.' But it didn't matter since in that single moment Husk was free again.

He wasn't chained to him.

Him won't run this fantasy.

This moment was his.

'Oh, damn, suddenly we're free to fly we're going to the other side.' For a moment they were free of everything, from expectetion and the chains it was just the two of them.

They felt peace.

'So if you do like I do'

In synch with eachother.

'So if you do like me.'

Their spark once again was ignate.

'Cause if we do we're going to the other side.'

They were unstopable in that moment.

They were the winners.

'We're going to the other side.'

[kvetchlandia]

Henry Miller and Anaïs Nin, Paris Uncredited and Undated Photograph

August 14, 1932

Anais:

Don’t expect me to be sane anymore. Don’t let’s be sensible. It was a marriage at Louveciennes—you can’t dispute it. I came away with pieces of you sticking to me; I am walking about, swimming, in an ocean of blood, your Andalusian blood, distilled and poisonous. Everything I do and say and think relates back to the marriage...

Here I am back and still smouldering with passion, like wine smoking. Not a passion any longer for flesh, but a complete hunger for you, a devouring hunger. I read the paper about suicides and murders and I understand it all thoroughly. I feel murderous, suicidal. I feel somehow that it is a disgrace to do nothing, to just bide one’s time, to take it philosophically, to be sensible. Where has gone the time when men fought, killed, died for a glove, a glance, etc? (A victrola is playing that terrible aria from Madama Butterfly—"Some day he’ll come!“)

I still hear you singing in the kitchen—a sort of inharmonic, monotonous Cuban wail. I know you’re happy in the kitchen and the meal you’re cooking is the best meal we ever ate together. I know you would scald yourself and not complain. I feel the greatest peace and joy sitting in the dining room listening to you rustling about, your dress like the goddess Indra studded with a thousand eyes.

Anais, I only thought I loved you before; it was nothing like this certainty that’s in me now. Was all this so wonderful only because it was brief and stolen? Were we acting for each other, to each other? Was I less I, or more I, and you less or more you? Is it madness to believe that this could go on? When and where would the drab moments begin? I study you so much to discover the possible flaws, the weak points, the danger zones. I don’t find them—not any. That means I am in love, blind, blind. To be blind forever! (Now they’re singing "Heaven and Ocean” from La Gioconda.)

I picture you playing the records over and over—Hugo’s records. “Parlez moi d amour.” The double life, double taste, double joy and misery. How you must be furrowed and ploughed by it. I know all that, but I can’t do anything to prevent it. I wish indeed it were me who had to endure it. I know now your eyes are wide open. Certain things you will never believe anymore, certain gestures you will never repeat, certain sorrows, misgivings, you will never again experience. A kind of white criminal fervor in your tenderness and cruelty. Neither remorse nor vengeance, neither sorrow nor guilt. A living it out, with nothing to save you from the abysm but a high hope, a faith, a joy that you tasted, that you can repeat when you will.

All morning I was at my notes, ferreting through my life records, wondering where to begin, how to make a start, seeing not just another book before me but a life of books. But I don’t begin. The walls are completely bare—I had taken everything down before going to meet you. It is as though I had made ready to leave for good. The spots on the walls stand out—where our heads rested. While it thunders and lightnings I lie on the bed and go through wild dreams. We’re in Seville and then in Fez and then in Capri and then in Havana. We’re journeying constantly, but there is always a machine and books, and your body is always close to me and the look in your eyes never changes. People are saying we will be miserable, we will regret, but we are happy, we are laughing always, we are singing. We are talking Spanish and French and Arabic and Turkish. We are admitted everywhere and they strew our path with flowers.

I say this is a wild dream—but it is this dream I want to realize. Life and literature combined, love the dynamo, you with your chameleon’s soul giving me a thousand loves, being anchored always in no matter what storm, home wherever we are. In the mornings, continuing where we left off. Resurrection after resurrection. You asserting yourself, getting the rich varied life you desire; and the more you assert yourself the more you want me, need me. Your voice getting hoarser, deeper, your eyes blacker, your blood thicker, your body fuller. A voluptuous servility and tyrannical necessity. More cruel now than before—consciously, wilfully cruel. The insatiable delight of experience.

HVM

--

Everyone else seems to have the brakes on… I never feel the brakes. I overflow. And when I feel your excitement about life flaring, next to mine, then it makes me dizzy. - Anaïs Nin to Henry Miller, 1932

[saltygilmores]

THOUGHTS WHILE WATCHING GILMORE GIRLS: S3/EP5/8 O CLOCK AT THE OASIS (PART 3) Aka SweaterPaws, Fake Fish, The Best Okuh Ever, And Jess Mariano Is A Waterlogged Infant Kitten

Parts 1 & 2 and all other episodes can be found in my pinned post.

This scene of Rory overhearing an answering maching message from Dwight's irate wife combines two of AmyShermanPalladino favorite things: answering machines and (the voice of) Alex Borstein (Celine & Drella on GG, Suzie on Mrs Maisel. Also Lois on Family Guy). Gilmore Girls Producer: Attention, Gilmore Girls crew! It has come to my attention that our budget will not cover both Outdoor Landscaping Scenes and Fishtanks. Sacrifices will have to be made.

Finally she admits to herself that Dean is a serial killer. And casual swearing from Rory? Wow, what a delight to hear.

!!!SWEATER PAWS ALERT!!!!

What do the kids say? Unbothered. Moisturized. Flourishing? In my lane? Something like that. It's clearly a school day (since Rory is in her uniform) while it appears to be a rare day where Jess hasn't been scheduled to work in the Coffee Mines before school. Speaking of school, he's walking away from school instead of towards it and is not carrying any school supplies or a backpack. He looks happy. Just vibing in his ugly oversized clothing. Hopefully he looks up every so often so he doesn't walk face first into a lamp post.

Or that.

Blue Crush was a 2002 movie about a girl who surfs starring Kate Bosworth. Get it? Cause Rory is covered in water?

Hey. Eyes up top, Pal.

The floofy hair. The prominent draggy lip. The five o'clock shadow. Salty enjoys naming things she can see.

How many of Jess' books have been ruined with water? 2 so far. The answer is 2.

And now...ladies and Gentlemen...I present the greatest Milo Okuh Ever Okuh'D:

Get you a man who will risk soaking himself and pretend he didn't assist you with turning off a sprinkler so your boyfriend Dean won't fly into a jealous rage over it. It brings a tear to ol Salty’s eye. The episode wraps up with Lorelai attempting to end the Peyton Sanders nonsense by apologizing to Emily and taking the blame for the entire incident. Silly Lorelai, she didn't consider "What would Emily Gilmore think?" first and foremost before agreeing to go on one date with a random guy. I mean, Lorelai declining a second date with Peyton could have caused Emily to lose rank in her Tea Party Circle with Peyton's mother or some nonsense like that, according to a ridiculous story Richard just told Lorelai earlier in the episode. Let me be clear here, in case the message got a little lost- I am 100% siding with Lorelai here. She should not have to grovel like this over something so meaningless.

HOGWASH. Stop this right now Lorelai. Emily is standing just a few feet away and you're in a kitchen filled with many sharp knives and cooking implements. I'll look the other way. She even agrees to go on a second date with Peyton just to pacify Emily even though she just made it painfully clear how miserable it would make her to see this dude again. Emily is quite pleased seeing Lorelai's state of misery. Well, like I said earlier, you do only have a very small window of time before David Bowie stops performing forever, so go for it I guess. Take the tickets, then drop Hamm. Drop him like Rory dropped out of Yale. I have a final comment: Although by the end of this episode we don't see Rory at school, one would have to presume that after the sprinkler incident she either had to get on the bus and go to school sopping wet or go home and change and blowdry her hair and risk being very late to class. Either she gets reprimanded for showing up to school late or she gets reprimanded for the wet uniform and hair so she's screwed no matter what. If he didn't take an ounce of pity on Rory for her Hit By A Deer story, do you think Headmaster Charleston would buy some fantastical tale from Rory about her tardiness being due to a sprinkler, sweater paws, a neighbor with a board game fetish, and Dean the unabomber?

[prettyboykatsuki]

okay if i've already asked you this just ignore this but could you help me understand gojo better what do you love about him what intrigues you about him etc etc etc

OKAY. i had to grab my laptop bc my little paws saw an opportunity to do something other than dunk on gojo.

first of all. i think gojo is an objectively unattractive character if ur type isn't assholes. this goes doubly if u are an anime only (idk how far / if u have read the manga so i will try to avoid major spoilers). it's not really about his physical appearance but more that his personality is really annoying. he's arrogant, frivolous, and hard to understand.

and i think a lot of people do fundamentally misunderstand his character like all the time. which is normal because that's kind of the point of his behavior. it's like a purposeful misdirection, and most people who know him well can tell you that.

but who really knows gojo? other than maybe shoko, and the principal. who knows gojo forreal? it's not his students. it's really not anyone.

there's this scene from the vol. 10 extras that is probably one of the greatest insights into gojos character. not for what it says, but for what it doesn't say at all.

you'll notice how no one can say anything about him other than the fact he's the strongest. some of his students call him an idiot, and nanami goes as far as to call him flippant and egotistical. megumi feels like he's indebted to him same as yuuji.

but in the eyes of everyone in the universe, the only thing that gojo satoru can ever be or will ever be is the strongest. his whole life has been one long journey to accomplish that. to become a god amongst men.

but gojo isn't god. even if everyone imposes it on him, he won't ever be. and despite how devastatingly lonely that existence is - in the end, he's still trying to accomplish something in order to prevent his tragic fate from occuring again. even when he won't benefit from trying to twist the hands of fate because his time for happiness is well-past.

there's actually very little for gojo to do what he does. no one really respects him or appreciates his effort among society. and yet they impose responsibilities on him all the same with no remorse. he could be cold and unfair and arrogant to his students, but he ultimately cherishes them all and guides them like a real sensei. there's not any good reason for gojo to try changing all of this. he doesn't have the same resentment of a zenin. he was born with a golden spoon in his mouth and could only do what benefitted him.

but he hasn't. and he wont. despite all odds and all misery, gojo is still holding onto hope that things can be different. he is actually very desperately clinging to the remaining sense of humanity he has which is why he behaves the way he does.

in the end, his acting is just that. acting. gojo puts on the mask to put everyone at ease but his life is doomed to be lonely. all he wants is to share that burden and for things to be different. for other people not to suffer the way he did.

it's only natural to write off gojo as a flippant and arrogant asshole. that's his whole thing. but he actually isn't at all, not really. he is the strongest, certainly. but he never really asked for that.

to me, i will have a deep love for gojo because he is just so tragic. that part of him that is so desperate to share his burdens and retain the innocence of his students is deeply endearing to me. i truly and genuinely love him a lot

[burningvelvet]

I completed Anne Brontë's Agnes Grey in one day yesterday. I'm in a book hangover, but here are my initial thoughts on the novel, as well as on Anne:

- Anne is an underrated Queen, but I already knew that from The Tenant of Wildfell Hall, her second novel. If only she hadn't died at 29! Agnes Grey was her first foray into novel publishing, and proves how much she developed her talents in the interim between itself and Tenant, which most people would agree is much better.

Yet, for a debut novel, Grey is nevertheless impressive. Her acute observations and descriptions of social experiences are some of the most clear I've ever read, and she was as adept in her satire as Jane Austen. After reading both her novels, Emily's only, and more than one of Charlotte's (Jane, and currently 1/4 through Villette) I can say she's certainly the most moral and progressive Brontë, and maybe even the most socially intelligent. There's a lot of humor in this book, and despite some of the dark themes, it never feels miserable.

Anne was a remarkably resolute woman, which comes through in both her heroines; even when they are oppressed and trapped in the most dire situations, they consciously refuse to adopt a victim mindset, instead trusting in their own strength and resilience. After enduring much suffering, both heroines trust in their faith, focus their energy on creating good lives for themselves, and by doing so achieve happiness in the end.

Anne Brontë's heroines are true examples of female stoics in the original philosophical sense, capable of great empathy and feeling as well as self-control and self-discipline. The Anne Brontë heroine has a quiet confidence about her. She champions moderation and common sense, not because she is boring or easily written off by the misogynistic epithet of "prude," but because she has witnessed true chaos and experienced true misery, and these things have served to make her more calm because she does not internalize them but triumphs over them. She has decided to learn from life's lessons and seek a life of tranquility, simplicity, and faith.

- This novel has everything! We've got the (literally designated) not-so-reformed rake in Sir Thomas Ashby (and what a rakish name that is), we've got some demonic children, we've got a sexy country parson, religious discourse, depictions and poignant criticism of classism, sexism, marriage, animal abuse, etc.

- Mr. Hatfield is basically Mr. Collins from P&P. Matilda rejecting him was golden.

-- The beginning of this novel, summarized: "I can't wait to meet these amazing children I've heard so much about! Gee, I really hope they aren't sociopathic animal torturers! What are the odds, am I right?"

-- No wonder the Brontë's didn't succeed in setting up their own school -- being a governess or teacher was simply horrible back then, as it largely still is today, and I think for the most part some of them simply weren't cut out for the job to begin with -- which is saying nothing bad about them or their abilities. Maybe if they lived today they would have done well as teachers or professors with a little more modern structure and having workers rights, etc...

-- I like the short length of this novel! It goes by very fast, and I read the first 100 pages or so myself very quickly, and the rest in audiobook format, but this is very rare for me. I've become accustomed to the Brontë family "language." I'm glad I didn't start with this novel though; I think it's easier to appreciate Agnes Grey after reading their "greatest hits" (Tenant, Jane, and Heights). It definitely isn't my favorite Brontë novel but then again I don't have a favorite. They each fulfill slightly different functions yet have many overlapping themes, so it's difficult to rank them.

-- I think one of the reasons this novel may not be as popular as it could be is because the first half of the novel is generally bleak and this may cause people to give up. The narrator's life generally improves in the second half of the novel, but still, Grey does not have as much dramatic "umph" as does what I hereby dub the "Brontë Greatest Hits Triad" (Heights/Tenant/Jane) which all will prefer. Still, the novel is worth reading for any Brontë fans as it is good and contains many of the Brontë tropes we all know and love. It also stands as a marked contrast to Anne's second novel The Tenant of Wildfell Hall, and makes me appreciate that novel so much better.

[sdyd]

* THE MODERN PROMETHEUS. sentence starters from mary shelley's novel, frankenstein ; or, the modern prometheus. from the original manuscript, the original published edition, & the 1831 revision. feel free to change pronouns / terms / tense / etc.

do you understand this feeling ?

I desire the company of someone who could sympathize with me.

I shall do nothing rashly.

remember me with affection, should you never hear from me again.

I will not rashly encounter danger. I will be cool, persevering, & prudent.

will you have the kindness to inform me whither you are bound ?

I have lost everything, & cannot begin life anew.

you may easily perceive, [name], that I have suffered great & unparalleled misfortunes.

with what interest & sympathy shall I read it in some future day !

the world was to me a secret, which I desired to discover.

it was the secrets of heaven & earth that I desired to learn

no youth could have passed more happily than mine.

do not waste your time upon this ; it is sad trash.

I believed myself totally unfitted for the company of strangers.

have you really spent your time in studying such nonsense ?

I am happy to have gained a disciple.

remember, I am not recording the vision of a madman.

a resistless, & almost frantic impulse, urged me forward.

you must pardon me, if I regard any interruption in your correspondence as a proof that your other duties are equally neglected.

how can I describe my emotions at this catastrophe ?

how glad I am to see you !

it gives me the greatest delight to see you.

you look as if you had been watching for several nights.

how ill you are !

what is the cause of all this ?

oh, save me ! save me !

I dare say you wish to be indulged in a little gossip.

are you always to be unhappy ?

my dear friend, what has happened ?

even cato wept over the dead body of his brother.

I am afraid, tears instead of smiles will be your welcome.

I do not know what you mean.

no one believes it, surely ?

did the murderer place it there ?

I cannot go alone.

I did confess, but I confessed a lie.

I hope you do not believe I am guilty.

I cannot live in this world of misery.

Do you think that I do not suffer also?

men appear to me as monsters thirsting for each other’s blood.

I would sacrifice my life for your peace.

devil ! do you dare approach me?

begone, vile insect!

I expected this reception.

all men hate the wretched.

abhorred monster !

be calm ! I entreat you to hear me.

have I not suffered enough?

I do not wish to hate you.

I was benevolent & good ; misery made me a fiend.

make me happy, & I shall again be virtuous.

you, my creator, abhor me ; what hope can I gather from your fellow-creatures, who owe me nothing ?

cursed be the day, abhorred devil, in which you first saw light !

relieve me from the sight of your detested form !

I ought to be thy adam, but I am rather the fallen angel.

I stared back, unable to believe that it was indeed I who was reflected in the mirror.

was I then a monster, a blot upon the earth, from which all men fled, & whom all men disowned ?

cursed creator ! why did you form a monster so hideous that even you turned from me in disgust ?

pardon this intrusion, I am a traveler in want of a little rest.

I thank you, & accept your generous offer

at length the thought of you crossed my mind.

to whom could I apply with more fitness than to him who had given me life ?

I do not intend to hurt you.

I am content to reason with you.

if I cannot inspire love, I will cause fear.

I will work at your destruction, nor finish until I desolate your heart, so that you curse the hour of your birth.

this is what it is to live !

where does he now exist ? is this gentle & lovely being lost forever ?

does it now only exist in my memory ?

I could pass my life here.

I had rather be with you.

hasten then, my dear friend, to return, so that I may again feel myself somewhat at home, which I cannot do in your absence.

had I the right, for my own benefit, to inflict this curse upon everlasting generations ?

what is it that you intend ?

do you dare to break your promise ?

I can make you so wretched that the light of day will be hateful to you.

beware ; for I am fearless, & therefore powerful.

I will be with you on your wedding night.

villain ! before you sign my death-warrant, be sure that you are yourself safe.

why do you answer me so roughly ?

why did I not die ?

are you better now ?

I am sorry that I am still alive to feel this misery & horror.

can I do any thing to make you more comfortable ?

on the whole earth there is no comfort which I am capable of receiving.

persecuted & tortured as I am & have been, can death be any evil to me ?

a fatality seems to pursue you.

do you not love another ?

it is your happiness I desire as well as my own.

if I see but one smile on your lips when we meet, I shall need no other happiness.

you are sorrowful, my love.

this night is dreadful, very dreadful.

why did I not then expire ?

I am satisfied, miserable wretch ! you have determined to live, & I am satisfied.

for many months this has been my task.

my reign is not yet over.

learn from my miseries, & do not seek to increase your own.

do you think that I was then dead to agony & remorse ?

you throw a torch into a pile of buildings, & when they are consumed you sit among the ruins, & lament the fall.

but it is even so ; the fallen angel becomes a malignant devil.

you hate me ; but your abhorrence cannot equal that with which I regard myself.

soon, I shall die, & what I now feel will no longer be felt.

[thecrowsnestp5]

THE CROW'S NEST 07 — TAICHI

...Well, calling him a member of The Crow's Nest is inaccurate. Taichi is more of Shido's worker than Akechi's—though they have their own deal. He's underqualified for any position so high up, nothing but a clumsy, inept airhead. It's not like he doesn't know that, though; it seems someone else doesn't.

"Please, please, please let me stay here. I don't wanna go back to sleeping on my brother's couch, it'll be so embarrassing! I'll get ya anything you want! ...Whaddya want?"

Shido's "personal secretary", he tried to say, but he gave up on the word 'personal'. That's what he is. He's also Kiyoe's uncle, an astonishing discovery, seeing as how the rest of that family is so exceptional, intelligent, skilled, admirable, and he's just... Taichi.

Apparently, Kiyoe's father had to bribe quite a few people just for the chance of Taichi getting a job. He's not even very good at the one he got—sure, he can remember to tell Shido about important messages and appointments... if he manages to stay sober the whole day. Taichi had to beg to get hired, and he was begging again to be made to look good.

Akechi used to think he was pathetic, deserving every ounce of misery he got. Easy to crush, like a bug. He agrees... eventually.

Taichi, and Akechi's taking a page out of a certain vulgar friend's book for this one, is a bumbling idiot who can't fight against anyone, not even himself. He gives in to his urges easily, often found drinking instead of working, and generally weak-willed when someone starts bossing him around. Maybe he's a good assistant in that regard.

At the very least, he doesn't have a stick up his rear. Taichi is well-meaning, although he fumbles with his words very often, and he has an infectiously cheery attitude. Akechi can't fathom him being Kiyoe's uncle; and such a caring one, at that.

Taichi cares about Kiyoe. He's proud of her for everything she's done, and he doesn't want to disappoint her. He knows he's not the greatest person in the world, but he still wants to be a great uncle. He knows he doesn't have a lot, but he has Kiyoe. The only reason he's trying so hard to keep his job is to keep her happy.

Akechi thinks he's pathetic... yet he agrees to help.

[umlewis]

'I'll make Seb's life a misery' Lewis Hamilton discusses rivalries with Sebastian Vettel and Nico Rosberg and reveals why he will NOT join Ferrari [part 2/2]

In the second of our two-part exclusive interview, Lewis Hamilton talks with SunSport’s Formula One man Ben Hunt

While Hamilton is battling against Vettel for the title, he no longer has to fight it out with his former team-mate, Rosberg. The two had known each other since they were kids, but their relationship turned toxic at Mercedes, and when quizzed if he was happy Rosberg retired, Hamilton added: "It has not made things easier for me but it has made the environment a better place to work in. When you remove a negative and then replace it with a positive, it is like having a circuit-board and you have a bad fuse, that’s the whole frickin' unit gone. When you replace that fuse, the whole thing works again. I am still pushing myself to new limits. He could be here and I’d still be driving like this and he knows it. It’s like when you have been in an unhealthy relationship. You only stay in it because you love that person. It is not until that relationship ends and you get further down the line you realise, 'Shit, that relationship was not good for me.' We are now positive as a team. The hurricane that was built within this team is now blowing towards Ferrari." If he wins the title here in Austin, or next week in Mexico, Hamilton will equal the four titles held by Vettel and Alain Prost; however, he would become the only British driver to achieve the feat and this will cement his place as the nation’s greatest. Sometimes in his post-race interviews his sincerity is missed, but Hamilton says being a British-born four-time champion would be incredibly special. He said: “It definitely means a lot. What does it mean to me winning a fourth world title? It is difficult to say until you have got it because you don’t know how you will feel. It is a strange sport, because people complain and say that I’ve won it because I’ve got a great car, but every single world champion has a great car. It is not like tennis where it is down to the athlete. Here, it is down to the team. It is about the driver being able to exploit that complete package. But to take a step ahead of the other great drivers in Formula One, I would be very, very proud. I don’t know if you even notice but when I am on the podium and when I look back and see the British flag, I am very proud of it and I hope people see that. It is a very humbling experience."

[rainbowsky]

Happy Pride! 💖🌈🦄

Happy Pride, everyone!

I wanted to celebrate Pride this year by sharing some great up-beat queer anthems - songs from some of the groundbreaking queer artists who have been raising their voices to make the world a better place every day. Let's celebrate diversity together! 😘

Domo Wilson - Bisexual Anthem

Domo Wilson should really be the one to start the Pride festivities this year, with this amazing, amazing, amazing Bisexual Anthem. Songs like this are rare - great message AND good song. This woman is fucking brilliant. (Sexually explicit lyrics).

Brenda Fassie - Vuli Ndlela

Africa's first openly gay pop star Brenda Fassie is an incredible talent. Her voice, her style, everything about the way she sings is utterly captivating, compelling and packed full of emotion - whether it be joy or misery.

I discovered her a while back and had that tragic modern experience of falling in love with an artist and then immediately being pitched into grief as I learned about her difficult life and too early death.

Some of you might be familiar with the Chinese term, 'jaiyou' which literally means 'add oil' or more generally, 'go for it!' Vuli ndlela is a similar term that means 'make way!'

The song is about sticking it to gossipy neighbours on her son's wedding day (because they thought he'd never marry and find lasting love), but over the years it has become a popular anthem of empowerment and encouragement.

Troye Sivan and Gordi - Wait

Who can resist a dreamy, sweet duet with two queer darlings?

Muna - Pink Chiffon (feat. Phoebe Bridgers)

I've shared this song before on my blog but it's such a sweet, catchy, up-beat song it deserves to be shared again.

Beth Ditto - We Could Run

One of the greatest - and most consistently and criminally underrated - voices in music.

Kehlani - Altar

This isn't an artist I've followed in the past, but this particular song is so infectious, I absolutely love it.

Shae Diamond - I Am Her

In her own words:

"My name is Shea Diamond, Singer/Songwriter based in NYC by way of Flint, MI. I was born into a gender role that I did not accept & I didn’t feel like myself. Desperate to find the financial means to transition to my true gender, I committed a crime in 1999 & was sentenced to 10 years in a men's prison. While incarcerated, I found a community that shared my trans experience - it was there where I found my voice. I began writing “I Am Her” as a statement to a world that said I shouldn't exist. I wrote it as an anthem for all those that felt shunned for simply being who they were. In 2009 I was released from prison. Shortly after my release, I moved to New York City where I found a studio to record “I Am Her” and the means to create a video for my song."

Ria Mae - Bend

Canadian pop sensation Ria Mae, yet another criminally underrated artist whose work speaks for itself. Let's give her some love as her home town and province have been suffering intense and dangerous wildfires, and destruction to homes and wildlife habitat.

Janelle Monae - Lipstick Lover

I don't even need to say anything about this song that this stupid-ass 'age restriction' bullshit doesn't already say. 😅

It's worth the trip to YouTube.

Erasure - A Little Respect

I'll close this off with one of the best gay anthems ever written, and one of my all-time favorite songs. Never has it felt more relevant than it does today, with all the hate being thrown at queer people, all the backward redneck laws, all the churchy dicks trying to destroy the lives of people they don't understand. Like the line in the song:

What religion or reason Could drive a man to forsake his lover?

What indeed?

Happy Pride everyone! 💖

YouTube playlist of these songs.

[hersterical]

soul lore in Buffy is finally beginning to make sense in my head (give me a break, I didn’t watch the show until COVID and didn’t start taking part in the fandom until at least a year after that). A lot of this is basic stuff the fandom’s been saying for years, this is just to help get my thoughts in order before I fall asleep and lose the train of thought.

There are a few important elements but I think the two biggest ways the lack of a soul influences a vampire is 1. No moral compass and 2. No empathy (as we see mostly with Spike but a few others as well, they can have sympathy but no empathy). I also don’t get the impression that soulless vampires are capable of true, selfless love. Again looking at Spike, whenever he loves someone pre-soul it always felt possessive or like he wanted to be possessed by someone. Sure, he sincerely wanted certain people he cared about to be happy, but he didn’t want them to be happy just for the simple sake of them being happy. At best he wanted them to be happy because being around them makes him happy and it’s his happiness that truly mattered to him. So if there ever came a time where the happiness of the person he cared about didn’t make him happy anymore, then he wouldn’t care about their happiness. This is mostly based on Spike because he’s the vampire we have the most opportunity to understand while he doesn’t have a soul. To me it seems that all soulless vampires could be placed on a scale from Spike, who possesses the most amount of sympathy and derives the greatest amount of happiness from the happiness of others, to Angellus who doesn’t have a single ounce of sympathy and actively takes joy out of the misery of others. Most seem to tend closer towards Angellus’ end of the scale and I wanted to explore that a bit.

Before I do that though there are some important things of a more physiological nature that would influence vampires both with and without a soul. The first is that I’ve always gotten the impression that a vampire’s primal, predator instincts are more heightened and animalistic than humans. The way I see it there are two main explanations for this: 1. Those instincts come from the demon that possesses the body or 2. Something about becoming a vampire allows them to access the human’s dormant predatory instincts. I’m no evolutionary scientist so I can’t say how likely that second one is, but no matter what it’d be far from the hardest thing this show asks the viewers to suspend their disbelief for. The other thing about vampire physiology has just little enough evidence to support it that I would probably have to classify it as a headcanon. I am convinced that human blood is an addictive substance to vampires based on how secretly being fed Connor’s blood influenced Angel.

With all that said, I’d like to take this opportunity to explore the after-life span of an average Joe vampire.

Imagine you wake up and it is dark, cold and suffocating. But none of that bothers you because more than anything you are hungry. No living being has her possessed this great hunger that you are experiencing right now. Not even being capable of conscious thought at this point, you start clawing. Eventually you dig your way up to the surface where you either have your sire waiting for you, holding in their arms the greatest smelling meal you’ve ever smelt in your whole life, a human, or no one and you need to find something to eat yourself. Even if you find a small animal to eat that’s not enough to satiate your all consuming hunger. No matter what you’re going to get your first taste of human blood as a vampire that night. And it is the greatest thing you have ever tasted. Sure, you had to kill someone to get it, but you don’t care. As you finished eating and stared at the corpse of a human being whose heart is no longer beating because of you, the closest you get to regret, shame, or guilt is the surprise that you don’t feel any of those things.

That was the best thing you’ve ever experienced but you still don’t have a particular desire to kill people. You might even avoid it for a bit in order to avoid attention or out of habit. But even if you actively don’t want to kill another human for whatever reason, you can’t get the taste of their blood off your tongue. The thought of human blood consumes you every waking moment of your life, which is quite a bit considering you don’t need to sleep anymore. But whether it be in a day or a week or a year, you will kill another human. This time you do care. Not that they’re dead, no. But in that moment as you took their life force and made it your own, you have never felt more powerful or in control (ironic considering vampires actually tend to lose control while drinking human blood). Even with all of this great supernatural power you’ve been gifted with, nothing is as powerful as taking a human life. And the blood itself. It feels almost like your rapidly fading memories of warm sunlight on your skin, gentle instead of burning. You’ve never been particularly power hungry before so even though that part might be cool, it doesn’t hold a candle to the sensation of drinking blood. Whatever hesitation you might have had towards killing humans is now gone. But that still doesn’t necessarily mean that you want to though.

You go and visit your loved ones from when you were alive, but when you get there all you can think is how weak you were. How dull the life of a mortal is. How nice the warmth of the sun was on your skin. How it felt to be loved. How it felt to be willing to give your own life and happiness for the sake of someone else’s. It fills you with rage, disgust, and even jealousy for your old self. You take your power back and get rid of any reminders of who you used to be.

Time goes on. Decades pass. You feed, you travel, and you learn. And you grow bored. What was once an exciting after life is nothing but pure drudgery. Even the taste of human blood is becoming common after so long of living off nothing but that. What hasn’t gotten old is the chase. The hunt. That power you once got a taste of but didn’t particularly care for at the time is the only thing that can make you feel anything. Humans are no longer tasty little juice boxes, they’re your play things. The adrenaline from the hunt turns your hunger for blood, into a hunger for power over people.

Eventually the chase grows stale. It’s just too easy. You try to spice it up by toying with humans. Making them scream or beg. But it’s still not enough. That’s when you hear about it. A hellmouth. A slayer. Both together in the same place. One of the greatest sources of power for a demon alongside with the greatest challenge any vampire could hope to face. It’s more powerful than any siren call, how could you possibly resist. Sunnydale is waiting for you.

You get there and between the influence of the hellmouth and the group think of a ridiculous amount of vampires and other demons, it feels as exhilarating as the dance floor of a crowded nightclub. Which is funny because the local nightclub is where you do most of your feeding.

You lead your latest victim out into the back alley, and start feeding. You are once again growing bored even on a hellmouth with the prospect of facing a slayer. It’s just too easy. These are your thoughts when you hear someone clear their throat. This surprises you enough to pull you away from your meal to see a small, blonde girl who’s dressed for a night of dancing. Dessert. Except something’s off. She tilts her head and outs on a mock pout as she asks if she could just get one night off. You don’t like her attitude, her face looking far too smug for your taste, and her blood is singing out to you like no blood has ever done before. You feel almost as hungry as the night you crawled out of your grave. Tossing aside the barely alive human you were just feeding on, you eagerly lunge at the small woman.

She punches you in the face. Hard. You fall to the ground and scramble back up as quickly as possible as you’re filled with a sudden certainty. “Slayer!” You snarl with equal parts shock, anticipation, and fear.

“Is that part of the vampire handbook or something? You guys really gotta get some new material.” She says in response.

How dare she? The insolence! You’ve drained the life out of hundreds of humans before her. You are immortal. Invincible. And she just dismisses you like you’re nothing? She will learn. You are the night, you are fueled by the life-force you’ve been draining out of humans for decades. You’ve seen things this little girl couldn’t think up in her worst nightmares. You have purged yourself of all weaknesses and now you will obtain the greatest power any vampire could ever hope to possess, the blood of a slayer.

You run for her, your claws reaching for her.

You are immediately impaled. As you crumble to dust you hear the last words you’ll ever hear: a half-hearted quip about you not being the dance partner she was hoping for tonight.