#also if you have any comments on the music choice hit me up and tell me why im wrong or so so right

[gennyrthewriter]

waiting on the second round of edits for book 2 is AGONIZING.

so, to stay sane while i wait around for the blorbos on my pages to become perfect, i made Spotify playlists for book 1 AND book 2!

Each song corresponds to its respective chapter, mostly based on vibes, but there are some meme picks in there. THE PLAYLIST FOR BOOK 2 IS SO HYPE LISTEN TO IT TO GET HYPE FOR THE HYPE BOOK

And of course, here's a link to the Amazon page for book 1

[disregardcanon]

this probably seems like a weird question from your end,but why do fanfic writers care so much about comments? aos already tracks hits and likes, sorry ""kudos"", so why are comments such a big deal to the point that people will stop writing?

okay, so i'm going to take this question very seriously and i promise it's not to make you feel bad. this is a comprehensive explanation of reasons that comments are important for me, both as a writer and as a reader

engagement vs numbers game

seeing trends

buy-in

community building

engagement vs numbers game

let's look quickly at two different fics of mine. this is the kudos count for a fic called Of First Kisses and Burnt Lips

it's old. it's been up on ao3 for almost 11 years now. 258 people liked it enough to leave a kudos, 12 people liked it enough for a bookmark, and it's been clicked on 3,859 times.

i have no clue what almost any of these people on ao3 THINK about it. beyond "huh. sure. i'll kudos that". compare this to its crosspost on ffn, where i got 5 reviews

3/5 mention it being cute. 3/5 give appreciation to me for taking the time to write it. 2/5 praise the writing itself from the attention to detail with grammar to the craft. 1/5 is an "um..." which is hard to decipher but appreciate and 1/5 is a silly reaction, but it's a reaction! look, someone felt a felling reading my thing! that made me giggle!

looking at the stats here from a purely numbers perspective, my fic DID better on ao3. it got a lot more kudos than it ever got faves or reviews on ffn. but those ffn comments are still what i think about when i remember this fic.

sure, a shear number like hits or kudos can be comforting and motivating. i'm definitely not telling you to NOT leave kudos! but the fics that i've come back to, recently, are the ones where i don't have a lot of kudos but i do have a few people who are invested in the stories and leaving comments to tell me

2. seeing trends

lets look at a few of the comments on my fic The Maid of Honor Made Them Do It

so just in these two comments, we see both commenters hone in on the same detail: my choice to include a special christian music playlist that this characters' friends made for her. a few other people in this thread mentioned that same detail, so i know this bit really worked well! it's great feedback that lets me know that a good chunk of readers agree with my characterization here.

these readers zoom in on specific details that they really liked! things that made them laugh, the absurdity of the concept, enjoying reading it, and that they could see it staged, which is a HUGE compliment for a work in a fandom for theater.

i've always had trouble with imaging where characters are in a space, how they're occupying it and moving, and how to use that for characterization purposes. however, i got more than one comment on this fic about how people could see it staged! that means that i'm improving in an area that i've always struggled with. that's huge. it makes me want to keep working on this thing! it makes me feel like what i'm doing here matters, because lots of people are picking up on similar things! they're invested enough to give me a comment! and it makes me want to keep writing for the hatchetfield fandom because some people are invested in my work here. that is BIG! seeing trends in the way that readers experience your story helps a lot with writer buy-in for a project and also for writers self-analysis.

as a commenter: this helps me JUST as much. when i really dig into what i enjoyed about a fic to tell the writer about it, that helps me analyze and articulate the strengths and things i might want to take away from the storytelling, and that makes my writing better too!

3. buy-in

this is a comment on a series that has less than 100 kudos across three fics, but has thoughtful, appreciative comments on each work. it's called Melting Pot

the commenter deleted their ao3 account. they may be one of the people who commented on the next fic, which i posted recently. they might NOT have been! honestly, it doesn't matter that much to me. this person gave me a gentle and nudge about a fic that matters to me and mattered to them at the time, and they were part of the push i needed to get back to it.

from a commenter perspective, i know that hearing a kind word can help someone keep up their motivation to write, even when i can't write in depth comments the way that i like to!

just recently i only had the time to comment "nice update" on a favorite fic of mine called Teeth That Turn. but they know that i come and i read and they know and talk to me by (user)name. because they know i care about this thing they care about! and it's way more fun to do something like this when i know i can chat with the author about theories and thoughts and ideas. and this isn't a "wow aren't i so cool other writers like me! tehehe" bragging thing, it's just evidence for the case of why comments matter?

if i didn't want this to be a two way buy-in, i'd ONLY read published fiction, you know? we're all playing in the sandbox on the playground and i like what they made. they like that i like what they made :) we're scheduling a play date to fight with sticks after school my mom said it's okay!

4. community building

now i know that i just mentioned above here why i like being a commenter and how it helps authors, as well as why i like HAVING commenters as an author. i'm still arguing those things as a lead up to this section, where i have two other points to make about community building here too.

1. you can comment on OTHER comments! if you go through and read to see what other people are saying, you can agree with them. you can add some commentary! sometimes you can make a joke! and i've only ever had fun responses from something like that. authors tend to love that their fics are getting such a response that people are talking to each other about it! like look!!!!!! my thing got you to talk to someone else about it holy shit?!??!

2. commenting on fics in your fandom builds you a good reputation and makes other authors you comment on more likely to read YOUR fic. i'm not going to post any screenshots on this one because it would be embarrassing for everyone involved, but there have been authors that i really admired who gave my stuff a try after i commented on theirs. and they've told me that's why they tried it! like obviously it's not just networking or whatever, but it's really nice to have someone give your stuff a try because you've been enthusiastic and thoughtful about theirs.

and you make friends this way! fandom friends! who want to talk about your blorbos! you get to go on little play dates in cyberspace with cool people who like what you like. you don't ever HAVE to be a writer, of course. if you don't want to throw your hat into the ring or make art or edits or gif sets or anything, that's cool. no one ever has to participate in fandom outside of their comfort zone! but if you want to, you know that you'll feel more welcomed if you have some people in your corner for it, and making friends in a space, screaming about how much you love the characters you love, and remembering that fic authors especially are just fans too will help you feel like you "deserve" to exist in the space. maybe you don't write, but you go here too. you've got a space in the fandom and your comments don't have to be, like, perfect literary essays for authors to appreciate them and get a motivation boost from them still existing and us being able to go back to them and go!!! look!!! i don't suck!!! this person liked what i did so i'm okay! :)

[talas-first-lady]

Additional Wynonna Earp Vengeance thoughts

This is going to be all the spoilers. You have been warned.

First of all, things that brought me a lot of joy:

The first scene up until things went bad. Nedley. Mercedes. Being buddies. Everything Mercedes was wearing including her monogrammed fanny pack of fishing lures.

Mercedes being like “the face. Kill me if you must but do not harm the face.” And hey, props to Mina for listening?

Bunny Loblaw cameo. The woman just gets better every time.

Any and all Wayhaught physical activity.

The entire Wynonna and Doc intro in Tombstone. That was just pure 100% Wynonna perfection.

“No we will NOT be redoing those stairs. They are very important to me for reasons.” - Nicole Haught

Every comment from Wynonna about how drunken brawling is actually precisely what Mercedes would have wanted at her wake (although I think Mercedes would have wanted more male strippers tbh).

I am typing this as I walk my dogs and we just passed a gold penis-shaped piece of confetti on the sidewalk outside a bar. Mercedes Gardner: never truly gone.

There was some quality Earp sister time that I did enjoy although it was slightly off (see Waverly discussion).

I am very much not up on current music so I didn’t get 100% of the references but Doc talking to Waverly about Megan Thee Stallion is what I came for.

Wistful comment about friend from Arizona. Thank you, Doc. Sorry your new bf was a tool.

The conversation between Wynonna and Nedley at the cemetery was perfect and should have happened years ago.

The fact that no one for a moment doubted that the three people Wynonna loves most are Waverly, Alice… and Nicole. I will be a Wynnaught shipper till the day I die.

Wynonna going to hell was pretty badass.

Nedley hitting hellhounds with his truck.

No pyramid schemes!

Now for the complaints.

At no point did they convince me that Mina was actually worse than all the demons they’ve faced before. Really? Sure, she doesn’t follow Revenant rules, but they’ve dealt with Bulshar. She does not remotely compare.

I also didn’t really buy the backstory stuff: Wynonna trying to impress a bunch of mean girls by summoning a demon for them? Taking them to the homestead at all? None of that felt true to her. I also don’t know why the group home girls were just suddenly back in Purgatory. (Also Dawson’s Freaks is the STUPIDEST.)

I think maybe Mina would have worked with a full season of build-up, but this was just not enough time.

I’m really pissed off about Mercedes surviving everything just to be murdered as a plot device. I love her, ok? She deserves better.

I am less pissed about Doc because I think they handled it decently - one last epic shootout, burying him in the spot where he wanted to raise Alice, the symmetry with burying Dolls (on the same hill, I think?), letting him come to terms with aging and dying. But it was so unnecessary. And so rushed: we never got to see anyone’s reaction but Wynonna’s (and Jeremy’s wildly out of character non-reaction). He was such an important character and we never got to say goodbye properly.

Not enough Jeremy.

Nicole’s attitude towards Wynonna up until that big don’t tell Waverly moment just made me so sad. I love their dynamic. I don’t know what happened.

In general, it felt like Nicole majorly backslid.

Biggest problem, though: Waverly. And I’m going to be upfront here and say that I was never as enamored with Waverly as a lot of people are. But I did like her and this didn’t feel like Waverly.

I think it’s fantastic that Dom has come out and become more comfortable in their skin and that they didn’t force them back in the girly Waverly box for this.

But I think they changed too much. Physically, the hair, the nose ring, the tattoos, the wardrobe choices (the wifebeater? The bolo tie?). But there was also her behavior. Jumping into a bar fight aggressively after relatively minor provocation was a lot. There was nothing of the light, bubbly Waverly left aside from a craft room. It just felt like part of her died. Like something happened over those 5 years that traumatized her worse than the stuff we actually witnessed. And Nicole being so unconcerned about it.

Anyway, that’s most of it?

[darkhymns-fic]

A Lovely Way to Spend an Evening

Husk used to like dancing, once upon a time.

Amazing how certain people can ruin such things for you.

Fandom: Hazbin Hotel Characters: Alastor/Husk, Charlie Morningstar, Angel Dust Rating: M Word Count: 4421 Mirror: AO3 Notes: I caved in and wrote fic for the funny swearing cartoon. Please note that this story contains depictions of abuse and power dynamics, as well as implications of violence. More tags are listed on the AO3 mirror. Grumpy cat man does not have a good time here (or even a choice).

--

Husk raised an eyebrow as he processed the information that was passed to him. (No, he couldn’t have heard that right.)

He was still cleaning up a shot glass with a less-than-clean rag, but his movements slowed, keeping his eyes level with the princess of Hell who stood in front of his bar. The eerie glow of the wooden walls fell over her hair, coating it in a green sheen that reminded him of poison dripping down the strands. A bitter but familiar taste settled on his tongue.

“…A dance party?” he finally asked her.

“Yes! For everyone in the hotel! There’s gonna be balloons and camaraderie and so much music!” Charlie was bouncing up and down on her toes. If she got any more excited, she’d probably jump straight up through the roof. Not like it would’ve been the first construction hazard the hotel had, or even the last. “It was Alastor’s idea! He said it would be a really good morale booster!”

Not a whisker twitched on Husk’s face, but he could feel the cracks in the glass forming underneath his hand. Another one for the dustbin. “Of course it was.”

Too low for Charlie to hear him, not that he wanted her to. She was riding on cloud nine, which was an achievement for a Hell-born denizen. “I just gotta get all the decorations set up! Oh! And Alastor told me to invite you specifically! It’s going to be so much fun!”

Thankfully, Charlie turned away then—to check up on all those decorations, the bright balloons, and streamers, and what looked like a disco ball (?) up top that was just gonna break the beams of this shack of a building. Because by then, the glass Husk was holding had shattered to pieces.

With a growl, he picked away at the shards embedded in his fur, one by one. Just a few of them were stained in blood, their color gaining a sickly green hue from the glow of the bar.

What a painful way to start the night.

--

Before anyone had even hit the dance floor, Husk was already shit-faced. But he wasn’t blackout drunk, and right now, that was his ultimate goal. Cheap booze was hardly good for anything else.

He could barely care whatever music was playing—but by the way Charlie was twirling and shaking her arms like an excitable chicken, it must have been some of that new pop stuff Husk never took much of a liking to. Much of the scene was a blur to him, still staying put behind his bar, hoping to be forgotten for his boss’ new…interest.

(Awful to think, but some men craving for freedom, for anything, become desperate. He knew this too well.)

Alastor was doing all he could to encourage the princess with a bleeding heart; holding up his mic to comment on her dancing techniques, to cue applause at just the right moment, always telling her the same thing. “Wonderful! Just a wonderful performance!”

Even so, one could barely call this much of a party. Hazbin Hotel’s guests were so few—still only two total—but that Sir Pentious was also doing some of the dorkiest moves Husk had ever seen, and still falling face-first on the floor despite having no legs to trip over to begin with. Somehow, Angel Dust’s moves weren’t as X-rated as Husk would have expected on any other day. Instead, the guy was lending a pair of hands to Niffty, letting her lead yet still somehow controlling her rabid movements to pull him across the floor, also avoiding any sudden bites she would randomly decide to do.

There were times, also, when he would see Alastor reach out a hand to Charlie. He’d lean on his cane, mouth close to the mic head, humming a little ditty reminiscent of the jazz lounges back when their bodies weren’t made of fur and weird demon magic. It wouldn’t be the first time Alastor danced with the princess, but then an arm would reach out, safely guiding Charlie away from him.

Surprising that the same arm lacked a spear in it, one with a suspicious glint to it that Husk recognized but bit his tongue from ever mentioning. Vaggie’s one eye burned brighter than most firepits, and Charlie, innocent soul that she was, thought her girlfriend was just impatient for another close dance.

“Aw, Vaggie! Did you wanna try the Lindy Hop together?”

Another glare, her and the red demon’s staring contest looking ludicrous underneath the shifting lights of the spinning ball overhead. “Yeah, sure thing, hun.” And then she broke from that gaze, her expression changing to softness as she looked at Charlie in the blink of an eye and just that. It must have been love, not that Husk knew anything about it anymore. “I’ll follow your lead, if that’s okay.”

Alastor kept his smile as they both moved away, slowly pulling back his hand as his fingers curled. But a close listener could hear the static, garbling slowly in a crescendo. No, his boss didn’t like being denied his playthings.

And if he wasn’t being entertained this very second, then he’d—

“Hey, ya gonna join us? This dance party’s not half bad.” Angel Dust leaned on the bar, grinning as he took his usual seat. He hid it well, but Husk noted how his chest shifted with his heavy breathing, using his second right arm to discreetly wipe away the sweat from the fluff. It took all one had to keep up with Niffty, even from a guy who claimed to have amazing stamina.

Crossing one leg over the other, Angel kept up his smile, but it lacked the biting veneer from other times. An honesty that could be seen, even with Husk’s somewhat blurry sight. “I mean,” Angel continued. “If ya feel like sucking off that bottle instead of something with a little more taste.”

Husk didn’t take offense to such jokes anymore (just for show, which he also knew all too well) but he still didn’t move. This was the closest to safety he got. Besides, the bottle wasn’t even empty yet. “Nah, got two left feet. Wouldn’t work out.”

At that, Angel Dust laughed. “Didn’t stop our slithery friend over there! Or even Niffty! Though, uh…”

A quick look from them both showed the tiny Niffty now crawling along the walls, heading for the disco ball and then clamping it tightly with her entire body.  

“Yeah,” Angel nodded. “Think she’s got the hang of it now.”

Husk shrugged. He slid a glass to Angel that was half-full, a motion he could still do even with slightly trembling hands. “Don’t let me tie you down, kid. I’ve seen your moves.” He allowed himself a smile, one he could say he even felt.

Angel took the drink, one that could barely buzz a chihuahua, and gave Husk a smile back just as he stood up. All limbs, and a smile that hid back its usual gleam for fatigued eyes. “Alright, but if you change your mind, I bet I could teach you how to move it.”

Husk could barely count the minutes since Angel left and the party continued. The soundtrack for the dance eventually changed from the generic pop to a swing number—one that Husk could probably mouth the words to if he still had any hope inside him. And sometimes, he did feel it. Staying in this hotel was misery at first until the faces became more familiar, more concerned, and less like the eyes of something that hunted and searched for that moment of weakness.

The music was as grainy as his vision, so heavily textured and straining on the ears that he kept trying to pick it up, even as it changed. The vocals. The soft melancholic chorus in the background. It lacked the instruments of the previous songs. Weird choice for a dance. So much did he focus on it, all while holding a whiskey bottle with both hands because now he wanted some of the good stuff. He stared into the warped glass as he listened for so long that he forgot how there was no safe place for him. Just for a moment, but that was all it took.

A shadow fell over the bar. Over him. He knew who it was. Husk tipped the bottle to his lips and took long, long drink.

“Husker! My dear friend, didn’t you get my invite?”

It was a while before he answered. He slammed the bottle onto the mahogany surface, twisted his lips. Already empty, he needed another. “Yeah, I did. What about it?” Whiskey made him braver, but also careless. “Gotta keep serving the guests, don’t I?”

He heard the familiar chuckle, frizzled and slightly skipping, as if the vinyl had been scratched. “While it is good to see you still keeping to your deal, you have to understand it’s rude to RSVP and then not show.”

He wrenched the cork from his new bottle; wine this time, because this felt like as good of a time to switching things up as any. He watched the mist curl from the opening with all the fascination of a man pointedly avoiding the signals around him. “I am here to anyone that’s got eyes. Besides, I never promised Charlie I would actually dance.”

“Oh? You saying our little princess is a fibber?”

“I’m saying you only hear what you want. All the damn fucking time!” A hard grip, and then, he made the mistake of raising his head to see. (Never look into his eyes, you fool.) “Why don’t you take your dumbass musical project and just shove it along with that stupid mic of yours?! At least then I can just—”  

Something tugged him forward. Cold yet hot at the same time, just around his neck and clenched tight. He gripped the bar, claws digging in to keep himself from slamming his forehead into the wood.

Suddenly, his vision was crystal-clear.

The eyes burned into his. Red as the fiery sun over the sea, as the freshly split blood over a forest floor. A grin that was impossibly wide for a living thing, but neither of them were alive anymore, so all he could do was wait for when those same fangs would bite down on something else other than pride. Strange, twisting shapes curled from behind, appearing from behind the Radio Demon, like some demented crown of thorns.

“Silly Husker. That wasn’t a request and you know it.”

Oh, he knew it.

In the chaotic lighting of the room, from that fucking stupid disco ball, to the blinding streamers and balloons, and even a few rave sticks Husk caught Sir Pentious waving around, no one would notice the subtle green of the chains. How they burned into Husk’s neck, rubbing it raw until the fur would fall off, leaving him bruised beneath.

He shook again, keeping himself upright as much as he could. All to not be humiliated again, and this time in front a crowd. They would hate seeing him that way. They would demand Alastor to stop.

But the crushing indignity was too much to endure that.

“Fine,” he hissed out. “Do whatever you want.”

“Why, gladly!”

The chain vanished. Husk was left gasping, his fingers pressed against his throat to feel for any mark. (Just his property and nothing else). But he saw the hand now held out to him, palm facing upward. Those seemingly delicate fingers moved back and forth, and there was the familiar static, the usual dead air, but also…if one could turn the dial just so, the faint cacophony of screams that echoed in the distance, only to be drowned out by grainy noise.

“Shall we dance, dear Husker?”

Any choice he had once, he’d already made a while back.

Husk said nothing as he slid his hand into the other’s, claws carefully dulled to not scratch. He was practically pulled over the bar, his wings flapping in surprise. Red and black feathers circled around them both, and then he was tugged in close, looking up at the man with the smile that had now considerably shrunk—to look charming, almost. But always sharp and ready to bite.

“Now look lively, my dear. It’s as if your feet are encased in cement!”

The voice slid through his chest, like poison once more, carefully given to him in small doses over the years. A hand placed itself at the small of his back, his feet nearly lifted off the floor. An arm kept his wings closed in, so that they couldn’t stretch, like a straight-jacket forcibly put on him. Those wings were one of the few things he even liked about his form here in Hell, even if he sometimes found them to be an eyesore. But nothing else now could catch him from falling.

Nowhere to stabilize himself except in Alastor’s arms.

Anything to make him feel helpless. Vulnerable. Nothing more than a pet.

That’s all he was to him.

Alastor leaned in slightly, moving Husk’s free hand to clasp onto the taller demon’s shoulder. Husk sighed, but he followed through. Resigned. Better to be led through and survive the night without much damage. (Why even fight it?)

Just barely on his toes, and feeling the sharp nails dig just against his fur, they started their dance across the floor.

This wasn’t the first time they did this.

It was easy to fall into the motions. The thing that Husk had to begrudgingly admit was that Alastor was a pretty good dancer. He moved his feet with a grace that could be easily followed, and Husk did so. The trail of a footstep following the other, their hands joined together, leading him to the right or left with barely a pull. And with the grip behind his back, fingers circling into his fur, making Husk swallow hard.

Eyes started to follow them now, even with the awful-as-fuck lighting. He caught a glance of Niffty to the side, how she stopped trying to gnaw on Sir Pentious’ tail as she stared gleefully at her boss and co-worker getting close on the dance floor. He could hear Charlie make her excited little noises of happiness, commenting on just how sweet it was to see them demonstrate to everyone how to dance. Yeah. Sure. Anything to keep the princess oblivious to the rot beneath. At least Husk was sure Vaggie wouldn’t explain much more.

Maybe, just maybe, he thought he saw Angel Dust in the far back. Hard to tell, because the effects of all his drinking were slowly making its way back, his fear replaced by numbness. But seeing Angel’s expression, it wasn’t pity. It was an understanding between two losers at the bottom of the barrel, witness to another form of degradation. Sold souls that could do nothing else but share the pain from across the room.

And then he couldn’t see Angel anymore. Because Alastor suddenly dipped him, so low to the ground that Husk found himself clinging tighter to the demon. His fur stood on end, his hat dangerously close to falling off. But Alastor leaned in close, his sharp teeth just at Husk’s ear, his breath parting the fur as gentle as a caress.

“This is a lovely way to spend an evening. Can’t think of anything I’d rather do.”

Husk widened his eyes. The music playing in the room, its echoes finally reaching his drunken skull. Oh, this absolute fucker.

The guy’s face really was made for radio.

Alastor lifted him up again, twirled him with barely a thought for Husk, who could have vomited from motion sickness. Wings flapped open, desperate for freedom, only to be closed in again by Alastor bringing Husk close. Another lean, and the song played again, closer, on the speaker that was Alastor’s mouth, with a voice that wasn’t his but that age-old recording.

“A casual stroll through a garden, and a kiss by a lazy lagoon.” Alastor’s grin could be felt against Husk, and how so often was he told how soft his fur was, to touch and play with. “Catching a breath of moonlight. Humming our favorite tune.”

Husk bristled. His claws bent inwards, so close to Alastor’s neck. It would be easy to at least draw blood, right in front of everyone, to show that this demon, horrifying as he was, can still be wounded despite it all.

Except, Husk had already tried that once. Back when the deal had still been fresh.

Alastor turned to face him, his smile so manic, so very daring.

Husk did nothing, instead continuing to listen to the song that Alastor played, dictating their movements. The same song that Husk remembered hearing on the radio so many years ago.

“I want to save all my nights and spend them with you. I love spending all with you…”

--

It felt like centuries before the party was finally over.

Husk could barely stand to be back behind his bar, let alone in the hotel lobby. The balloons, which half were already deflated, were a fucking eyesore and that damn ball up top or whatever did eventually fall—on Sir Pentious. But if the guy could survive an attack from the Radio Demon absolutely demolishing his ship and half of his egg boys, then it was clear the snake was indestructible.

Maybe Husk was a bit jealous.         

He didn’t want to deal with seeing anyone, even when Alastor, finally, finally let him go. Still, their clasped hands lingered, and Alastor leaned down as if to kiss his knuckles, Husk frozen in place at the very thought. And then, fingers laxed in their hold, allowing Husk to pull back, his fur on end and his wings frazzled, the feathers out of place.

The song had long stopped playing but still he heard it, deep in his skull, as if someone had shoved a phonograph there, the horn of it directed right inside his ear.

A quick exit, before anyone could reach him. Hypocritical maybe, but he didn’t feel like voicing his troubles right now. Not when it just fucking happened right in front of everyone, with only one of them even getting a hint of what it was all about.

Alastor and his stupid games.

But even when Husk retreated to this room, he could barely relax. The room was just one in a hundred in this empty hotel, but one that Charlie had been so happy to lead him to that first time. She had pointed to each pillow on the bed and even to all the little mints that were stacked on top. She had even been hyped for the shaded lamps on the bedside table, despite the bulbs long weakening. Overkill, like much of what she did. But earnest, and genuine, and one that truly did see the good in everyone despite how each sinner had earned their keep here.

A complete difference from the Radio Demon that had just materialized at his side, a whisper of a soft, nostalgic melody his only warning.

“Oh, Husker. I didn’t peg you to be an early sleeper.”

Followed immediately by the door slamming shut.

Husk didn’t dare turn. Not yet, not until he reached for the cards in his pocket. They could be as sharp as knives, as strong as wire. He was drunk, and tired, and maybe he was past his limit at having himself played around with in front of everyone like it was all just normal.

But, before he could even pull back his arm, something held him in place. A blink. The lamp in his room flickered, and he caught the antlered shadow on his left wall, grabbing at his own. Of fucking course.

“Bad kitty! And after I let you keep your little toys.”

A quick squeeze and Husk sucked air through his teeth, dropping a flurry of his cards to the carpet. Then a violent turn, and the manacle appeared once more around his neck, the sickening green creating valleys and crevices all over Alastor’s grinning face.

Still, that godforsaken melody kept playing.

Then a pull.

Husk choked. He reached for the links, clung to it, even as they burned off his fur. His wings stretched wide, flapped once and then twice. All he could do to keep his ground.

Alastor leaned his head to the side at a painful angle—unclear if he even felt anything while doing so, or maybe he did because he could, relishing the crack of bone and the rupture of blood vessels. All while he held onto Husk’s leash, keeping it taut.

It wasn’t enough to make Husk shut up.

“You fucking psychopath. What more do you even want from me? I already danced with you! I even let you just… touch me like…” Husk could barely speak, but he glared at the Radio Demon with all the rage and humiliation he felt deep within whatever he had left of his soul. “I know you get off to this shit!”

The demon leaned in close. The sight of it was compressing, losing full shape, covered over with black marks and strange symbols that he had never understood. Antlers grew and took shape, their sharp points reaching out to Husk like an embrace. But, they stopped just short of his face, just over his eyes, making him terrified to even blink.

In corrupted static, the music garbled and off-key, Alastor whispered. “And so do you.”

Husk’s grip on the chain loosened. He gritted his teeth. Fuck. This was it. He was going to die, with his agony broadcasted all over Hell.

Another quick pull, and Husk lost his grip completely. The shadow from behind him had grasped at his wings, stinging in the pain as tendons snapped like twine, and suddenly he couldn’t extend them anymore. Another avenue of possible escape, already taken away from him.

Then he was pulled forward again to the real Alastor, a hand grasping his own, fingers interlaced. Husk trembled. Would the Radio Demon start by breaking his hands, going through each limb slowly until he couldn’t even move anymore?

Alastor pulled taut on the chain once more, straining the metal. But they would never break, no matter how much Husk wished for it. It was close to his face, and he wondered if Alastor was going to bound and gag him, burn off his tongue, so that his screams would have no words.

That is not what happened.

Instead, Alastor took the chain and wrapped it carefully, almost delicately around their clasped hands. Husk grimaced at the touch, burning yet freezing all at once. Alastor showed change in emotion at all. Still smiling wide, the antlers retracted back like tentacles. The discordant melody shifted back to harmonious, no longer warped and out of tune. The record played, undisturbed.

Husk blinked. His eyes moved to their hands, tied together by the chain, before going back to Alastor. “What…are you doing?”

A hand reached for his back, pulled him close until his nose was pressed against the front of Alastor’s suit. A finger pushed against a suspender in what could have been seen as playful, and a thumb rubbed circles into the fur, searching for the skin beneath.

“You’re just lovely when you dance,” Alastor said so softly, just against his ear. The teeth nipped just so slightly, tugging at his fur, at him. Husk shook, and he wasn’t sure if it was entirely from fear. “And the night is still so young.”

His wings still ached from the sudden clipping of his feathers, and his hand was half-burned from the links pressed against his fur. Even so, he didn’t step back. He felt his feet just almost leave the floor, their bodies pushed even closer than before in the hotel lobby.

He didn’t say anything. It wouldn’t have mattered anyway.

And he even used to like dancing, once upon a time.

Husk’s body felt like a rag doll, pushed and pulled to go wherever his owner wanted. The chain kept them bound, even if it was already connected to his neck. In the quiet of his room, they slow danced to what had once been one of Husk’s favorite songs as it played in its vintage soundscape.

It was nothing new at all. In fact, it was very much the usual. The playing of an old ballad or a jazz rendition when Alastor was near him. The subtle brushing of knuckles against his own when walking by. A quick pat over his head. A tug of his ears, done so lightly that Husk sometimes wondered if it was imagination. A patting of the shoulder, the hand lingering just a moment too long. A finger rushing down his side. Even a delicate pull of his tail. After all, Alastor would tell him, it was just so very soft.

Husk had pushed back at first. He had groused and cursed, hating to be ridiculed. He still did so now, like the fucking genius that he was, the current pain in his wings reminding him with glee.

Sometimes, Alastor would laugh and be on his way. Other times, not so much.

Husk forgot that he couldn’t pick his battles—for there was none he could win.

He gritted his teeth, letting his body be swayed, shivering at the hot breaths along his neck. The dim lights of his room swam in his vision, and soon, he was falling more against Alastor, pulled in by warmth that could turn scalding at any moment.

(Perhaps dancing was what cured the loneliness, in a way. He really was pathetic.)

He looked to their joined hands, engulfed in green that seemed all encompassing. Then he stepped in something wet, tracking it in the carpet. Too apathetic to the thought that they were dancing out patterns with his own blood.

“This is a lovely way to spend an evening,” sang Alastor, in that same recorded voice. But also, Husk could hear Alastor’s own, as if the demon was singing along in his own private booth for his loyal listeners. “Can't think of anything I'd rather do.”

Husk breathed carefully, letting himself fall quiet. When he made his deal, he was never promised he’d understand the Radio Demon or his motivations. He knew, in the end, that he didn’t want to anyway.

The night blurred, until the pain had all but numbed, and their song was all he could hear.

[norwegika]

ITTSSSSS TIMEEEEEE for bachelors yapping time continues! Imma be going over what I think should change about the bachelors after you marry them :3 this will all be going off the assumption that there is now a 20 heart limit and 1-3 additional cutscenes

Spoilers for stardew relationships btw

Alr first my favorite bachelor: Alex. I’m thinking although Alex always stays in shape he does give up on his dreams of being a professional grid ball player, buttttt I think it would be really nice if he starts a workout club for the dudes fr, where they work on personal fitness, getting stronger, and now Harvey could have a place to get fitter while feeling less embarrassed! Maybe when he starts it you get a little quest to gather stuff to make workout equipment and he uses an additional wing of your house to do so. I also think it would be nice if he starts working as a gridball commentator so that he can still enjoy his favorite spot. A cutscene for both of these ideas would be nice

Next is our favorite recoverin alcoholic: SHANE I personally love Shane so much he’s amazing. I think as you progress your relationship with Shane he could help Pam get her addiction under control. Of course though, his main pursuit after he marries you would be the chickens! I’m thinking he would either join Marnie at the ranch and start helping out there or he could be the “coopmaster” at your farm, and he could do the same thing as an autopetter and auto grabber, but all eggs harvested by him would be one quality grade higher, and if you have blue chickens they would produce “Blue Eggs”, which would sell for a lot more and produce “Blue Mayo”, which could be a loved gift for Shane and maybe Jas. His new cutscenes could be a scene where a blue chicken lays the first blue egg and a scene where he talks to Pam about addiction.

Now we got Elliot. The weird thing about Elliot is he actually does do things after you marry him. He ends up going on a tour for his book! This is amazing but I think it could be expanded on. I’m thinking he decides to write another book about life in Pelican Town and after a while it’s a cult hit. He becomes quite famous and gets visited by paparazzi in a cutscene where he talks to you about the burden of fame but how it’s all worth it with you by his side (aww). You could also after that get fan mail delivered to your mailbox? Could be fun and maybe another secret could be added from that. In addition to all that, I think marrying Elliot could give you an exclusive book power? I don’t have any ideas specifically but that would make sense ✨

Harvey: Harvey, after you marry him, would still work at the hospital, but he would no longer charge you for services like reviving you, and you would have a special cutscene where he tells you “you make me worry about you too much when you go into the mines” “I love you too much” or something like that. I also think that he would start talking to the people who fly above the valley and begin to be known as the Stardew Valley Navigator, and maybe you would meet one of the pilots and he would take Harvey for a ride in the plane :3 also I feel like as his relationship with you progressed he would no longer love coffee because he isn’t overworking himself so much :D other ideas include a slight health increase when married to Harvey and maybe a scene where he impresses the A.S.S trio with his knowledge of jazz

Alright next up is Sam! First up, I think Sam needs to start getting bigger with his music. After you reach 16 hearts, he should get an offer from a minor record company who really liked his sound in the “Happy Junimo Show” soundtrack. They offer a deal where he sells them one single and if it works out they could get him signed. You receive three choices for the genre, and he submits it and waits. A week later, he hears back from the company, who really enjoyed it and offer him a contract. This leads to another cutscene at 18 hearts where he performs his first single as the opener for a music festival. After that, you can always hear that first single on Sam’s boombox. Sam brings you up on stage and says “This song is dedicated to my amazing partner, [name]”, and the cutscene ends.

Sebastian: Sebastian is too edgy bro but I’ll make this shit work lemme lock in rq

Sebastian, of course, starts to breed frogs! I think that could be really cool if you could get a cutscene where you now have a frog that roams the farm looking cute, maybe collecting mixed seeds and fiber and delivering it to you while you’re in bed? I’m going to be so fr I can’t think of stuff for him lol he’s a lot harder ngl… Maybe a garage addition to the house? Where he works on his motorcycle once a week?Ngl this is mid he’s too emo lol LMK IF YOU HAVE BETTER IDEAS

[thatseventiesbitch]

Do you think any of the Donna criticisms is valid? Or do you think fans are being to harsh. Also I find it cringy that some fans bleep out letters in the characters names. Like grow up

Thanks for the ask!

I think Donna, like every other character, has her flaws but I have not seen any recent discussion in the fandom about them. The "criticisms" I have seen recently are not ones I believe the show/canon supports. I don't think the newer fans are being too harsh, just inaccurate. They are coming to conclusions not based on canon, but on their own interpretation. Which is fine. It's just not my thing.

The greatest hits:

Donna thinks she's better than Eric.

No, she doesn't. There's little to no evidence of this in the series. On the contrary, Donna is one of the people in Eric's life who builds him up and helps him develop his self-confidence. She tells Eric - and others - constantly what she likes so much about him and their relationship. She doesn't take him for granted - she is obsessed with that boy! People who say otherwise are just cherry-picking (or they truly don't understand the show).

In her own words:

"You wanna know how I feel? Fine, I'll tell ya how I feel. [Opens to random page of her diary] Today at lunch I was looking at Eric when he didn't know it and I just couldn't believe how much I love him and how lucky I am to be with him." -S3E22

Donna never apologizes/the show puts her on a pedestal and acts like she never does anything wrong.

Simply not true. Donna is actually shown to be very reflective and can own her part in conflict (especially with Eric). Just off the top of my head:

S2E20 "Kiss of Death", she and Eric have a conversation where she admits she overreacted and explains why she thinks she did

S2xE6 "Vanstock", she admits she overreacted and tells Eric he's a really great boyfriend

S4xE7 "Uncomfortable Ball Stuff", she apologizes to Eric at the end of the episode and they both agree to figure out their new normal

S4xE27 and S5xE1, she apologizes to Eric for Casey and her role in their conflict all season

S6xE21 "5:15", she admits Eric was right about Mitch and goes to support him in fighting him

S6xE18 "Do You Think It's Alright?", at the end of the episode she admits Eric was right and forks don't matter, she just got all caught up in the wedding stuff and trying to follow the book but she's just doing that because she feels lost and overwhelmed

I could literally just keep going on and on and on! (One thing about me, is I'm gonna bring receipts 😂)

Donna's a bad friend to Jackie.

I do think Donna misstepped at points throughout her friendship with Jackie, but I also take into account how difficult it can be to be Jackie's friend and the kind of friendship Jackie returned to her.

For instance, Donna did tell Jackie that her relationship with Kelso was unhealthy and that she deserved better. Jackie straight up did not want to hear it, and insulted Donna for telling her the truth. Donna didn't initially want Jackie to move in during season 6 but look at why that might be. Jackie moved in and insisted Donna accommodate her (loud ABBA music to feel the vibration on the bed, anyone? 😂), read her diary and left mean comments in the margins, painted her own name on the bedroom wall, etc. Is that all for humor? Of course. Does it help me understand why Donna wouldn't want Jackie to move in with her? Yes. And in the end what happens? Hyde confronts Donna about the situation Jackie is going through and why Donna made her feel small by asking her to move in the way that she did, and Donna reflected upon the situation and changed her mind, did the right thing to help her friend.

I also think far too much is made of her being impulsive and/or destructive when she's under stress.

Yes, she responded to one isolated stressor (the disintegration of her parents' marriage) with those traits - the skipping school and failing classes for attention, making risk choices with Casey, etc. But I would argue that's not Donna's MO, it's not how she always or even usually responds to stress - by blowing up her whole life and making risky choices. For instance, when Eric didn't show up to the wedding. She was pissed and sad, but she sought comfort from her mom - she didn't go on a bender, run away from town, sleep with someone random, marry a stripper *cough, cough*. That's not how we see her respond when she briefly thinks she's pregnant. It's not how we see her respond when Eric decides to go to Africa. Etc.

Anyway.

In the case of Ms. Pinciotti, there's also a small but persistent faction of fans who think Eric can do no wrong and is some tragic victim, and Donna, of course, perpetuates poor Eric's persecution. I've always suspected that kind of attitude is rooted in internalized misogyny. But I don't think we need to open that big ol' can of worms on a lovely Friday afternoon. 😆

*I don't think I've seen the bleeping out of characters' names. I am not sure why one would do that?

[mamthew]

Some thoughts on Metaphor: ReFantazio. I avoid spoilers for the most part.

It’s maybe impossible to overstate how much I love Persona 5. It’s my favorite game of all time, and directly started me down the path to being a radical. It’s got some flaws – many of which were fixed in its rerelease, Persona 5: Royal – but it’s such a fantastic package in terms of story, gameplay, art design, music, and thematic resonance that it’s hard to fault it for them. I’ve played and enjoyed subsequent P5 material, but none of them are nearly as devoted to a political message as the original, meaning that even though they’re all good, they ultimately fall short of what I love about the initial game.

Metaphor: ReFantazio is a 2024 RPG by a good number of the folks who made Persona 5, and you can immediately tell. It has a very similar art style, uses many of the same sound effects, has a similar battle system, and is built around the calendar/social links/social stats system that the Persona series is known for. It is essentially a Persona game, but set in a fantasy world rather than contemporary Japan, and without Persona’s emphasis on Jungian psychology and the tarot. It’s also thoughtfully political, but in a way that’s maybe less engrossing and blisteringly relevant than Persona 5. That said, what it does have to say is worth engaging with, as it uses its more traditional fantasy setting to comment on the ideological underpinnings of RPGs as a genre and games more broadly, as both an artistic medium and an industry.

In many ways, Metaphor is “Persona does Final Fantasy.” It’s clearly an homage to Final Fantasy at its core. It may have Persona 5’s battle system, but it’s got FFV’s job system, and it’s reworked the “one more” mechanic to feel more like the Brave/Default system from Bravely Default, or the Conditional Turn-Based system from Final Fantasy X. The job system is especially interesting. There are 14 basic jobs, with each job having 1-3 class change upgrades that unlock at specific Social Link levels with the job’s corresponding character. Every party member can use any job, but have very individualized stat spreads that make certain jobs more viable than others. For example, Strohl starts with the Warrior job, which hits hard and doesn’t do much else. He could use the Mage job, but his physical attack is like double his magic attack, so that would probably be a waste of his massive attack stat. That said, some players might opt to train him through Mage anyway, because at level 20, Mage gets a skill that increases MP by 15%, which they could equip to Warrior so he can use more of his big hits that spend MP. I, on the other hand, trained him in Pugilist, which has powerful physical moves that spend HP instead of MP. It’s a bit more risk/reward, but Strohl has considerably more HP to spend. And that’s one of the seven party members, each of which has their own unique stat spread.

That customizability is fun and rewarding, but limited by the use of a Persona calendar system. I’m less inclined to experiment and try training characters in weird directions when I only have ten in-game days to reach the end of the current dungeon and only have about an in-game year to reach the end of the game. Due to the FOMO brought on by the time constraints, I spent about eight hours just mindlessly bashing enemies in old dungeons in order to unlock all the jobs, which was pretty decidedly unfun, and I ultimately only got to play around with maybe half the fully upgraded jobs in the end. Persona’s time-management (which often translates to some occasionally brutal resource management in dungeons) has always ratcheted up the games’ tension and forced a level of deliberateness in decision-making. That works fine in Persona, but dampens the freedom of choice I associate with job systems. The calendar generally feels like a weird thing to keep. On one hand, the narrative and mechanics have been built around it, but on the other, part of what I enjoy about the calendar in Persona is the mundanity of it. The changing of the seasons, interspersed with real-world holidays, as experienced by a protagonist who is attending high school and therefore at the mercy of the calendar, all help to complement the familiar contemporary setting of a Persona game. In Metaphor, there are no seasons or holidays, the weeks have five days instead of seven, and the one-year cutoff for the action is arbitrarily enforced by a spell rather than by familiar societal norms, so the days tend to blend together. This calendar has all of the anxiety of Persona’s system with none of the novelty, and that’s not a great place to be in.

That said, what Metaphor loses in variety from the calendar it gains from its much larger world and its travel mechanics. Each chapter of Metaphor is set in a different city, and the characters must travel to each city using their gauntlet-runner, a land-based version of the classic Final Fantasy airship complete with a pilot who’s clearly Atlus’s take on a Cid. Each city has several dungeons, landmarks, and surrounding towns that the party can travel to and explore as side-jaunts to juggle as options within the time-management system. Some of these can take several in-game days to reach, but traveling has its own activities that raise social stats, craft items, or even develop social links with party members. In Persona 5, many of the side activities had their own unique content but wasted precious days to do, and travel-time feels like a way to alleviate some of that sense of waste, by limiting you to just “bedroom activities” like reading books, cooking, tending to plants, doing laundry, cleaning the floor, bathing, or inviting party members to hang out. You have to go to the extra dungeon either way, so you’re stuck on the gauntlet-runner either way, so you might as well raid the pantry, use the shower for a small Exp bonus, cook some fermented meat with Hulkenberg, do some laundry with Heismay, and then read a fantasy novel while you’re there. Much of the traveling system feels like an iteration on the central premise of Persona 5: Strikers, allowing the characters to go on a road trip and see a bunch of cities but without the dearth of things to do outside of dungeons from which Strikers suffered.

Metaphor is in most ways an improvement on Persona 5. It’s a much bigger game, with a more strategic battle system and prettier visuals. That said, its dungeons are generally a bit less interesting. They’re more straightforward, without the verticality that made especially Persona 5: Royal’s dungeons shine. They’re also less colorful, less surreal and – I guess a bit ironically – less metaphorical. That makes sense, since all the dungeons are actual locations within the game’s world and must therefore follow the world’s logic, but it’s weird infiltrating a giant fantasy airship and being struck by how much duller it is than Persona 5’s Diet building – a real-world place known for being boring. The music, too, is less interesting than Persona 5’s. It’s still technically solid, and there are certainly some bangers, but because the soundtrack is aping Final Fantasy in genre and instrument choices, it’s much less engaging than the acid-jazz of Persona 5. Metaphor also has less to do than Persona 5 or especially Royal. The game doesn't require that you grind up relationship points with social links, which cuts out a lot of the frustration of the social link system, but also means that there's no reason to take characters on dates or to the movies or to play darts. The world feels less varied because the activities are much more clearly laid out by which social stat they increase.

Both this game and P5 are punching way higher than their weight class in terms of budget and team size. They’re both essentially AA games that have been catapulted into the AAA space, and both are a generation or more behind in terms of actual graphical power. Both games made up for that discrepancy with stylish artistic flair, and while that papering over succeeds in both games, the stylizing of Metaphor feels less relevant to the game than with Persona 5. Persona 5’s intentional use of color and effects make it feel both pulpy and like agitprop material, which are two of its major artistic influences. Metaphor’s stylings, however, mostly make it feel like Persona 5, which clashes a bit with its more classical fantasy setting. I’ve seen a number of people complain about the game’s graphics being outdated, and I think the fact that it retreads so much stylistic ground is why the unimpressive graphics are more noticeable this time around, even though it’s much better graphically than any previous Atlus entry. The game’s reuse of many Persona sound effects aggravate this issue. Those sound effects feel punchy and contemporary, and work great in the context for which they were created: a game that turns rpg genre conventions on their heads by using a contemporary setting. Here, in a game that’s purposely leaning into more classic genre conventions, they instead feel lazy and out of place. The game clearly had great sound designers; there are plenty of new sound effects as well as the old. I wish they’d had those sound designers replace the reused sound effects as well. The game's localization, however, does set it apart from Persona 5. Metaphor is another JRPG to outsource its localization and English voice work to the UK, rather than the states. Most of the characters are voiced by UK voice actors, and they all do an outstanding job. Honestly, the weakest link voice-wise is the protagonist's voice, which was clearly directed to try to be fairly flat and unaffected. Still, I'm just so happy to have a voiced protagonist that I didn't mind all that much.

Metaphor opens by posing a question to the player: does a story have the power to change the world? I figured when I started the game that this question was referring to Persona 5, and the difficulties of creating a story with a specific, clear political message and having to deal with its audience agreeing with the message and longing for that change but not working to bring it about – or even worse, a chunk of its audience refusing to acknowledge it as political at all. While Metaphor was clearly inspired by that initial tension, it addresses a much broader question than that: why do video games – works in a medium that tends toward fairly radical political theming – seem to attract audiences that refuse to engage with their theming? Much of the game’s use of Final Fantasy elements is in service to this question, since Final Fantasy is sorta the seminal RPG. The game’s antagonist, whose name is frustratingly spelled Louis and pronounced Luis, represents in some ways the ideological underpinnings of Final Fantasy and is even designed to look like the FF1 Warrior of light, with long flowing white hair and curved horns. The main plot of the game involves a powerful spell that forces the kingdom to hold a democratic election. When the king is assassinated, his voice thunders down from the sky that the crown will go to whomever the most citizens believe in their hearts should be the next king in about a year’s time. The protagonist enters the race because he opposes the two frontrunners – Louis and the head of the very racist Sanctist church.

The protagonist often reads from a utopian novel and communes with the novel’s imprisoned author, a man named More, probably because he represents the demand that society improve and offer us more. The novel discusses the workings of an idealized version of our contemporary liberal democratic system, and all the party members fight in some way to try to realize that system. The novel itself was banned and all its copies burned, while More was arrested and sentenced to exile for writing it. While both the protagonist and Louis love the book, they had vastly different takeaways from it. The protagonist and his party see the book as calling for a society built around caring for its citizens, protecting and providing for those without the means to protect or provide for themselves. Louis, on the other hand, sees the book as calling for a society built on “true equality,” where all are forced to fend for themselves and only the strong survive. In both cases, the circumstances of one’s birth theoretically don’t matter, and leadership isn’t decided by a bloodline, which makes both visions look preferable to the world of the game: a heavily racially stratified monarchic theocracy. With the crown up for grabs, both characters have the opportunity to try to realize their visions of this utopian system, if they can convince the populace to back them.

This conflict is, deliberately, the conflict at the center of liberal democracy: is our system meant to be more individualistic or more collectivistic? Does the “liberal” mean that individuals must fend for themselves without a societal support structure? Does the “democracy” mean that the strongest must sacrifice the fruits of their advantages to provide for those without the same advantages? That the game takes the side of the whole over the part is unsurprising, given that it was made by the folks who made Persona 5. And hey, that’s the side I agree with more, so no skin off my back. But, using liberal democracy as the basis for its core theming makes Metaphor feel considerably less radical than Persona 5 did. Most of the oppressor/oppressed relationships in Metaphor are ones for which we have answers, which stands in stark contrast to the real-world-inspired conflicts in Persona 5, and when the characters look to the utopia of the novel for a solution, they’re looking to the answers we already have. And as Persona 5 already told us, those answers are insufficient.

That said, what feels backwards about the game’s theming becomes more interesting when we consider it instead as a metacommentary on the politics of RPGs. Louis, the villain who looks like the Ur-FF Protagonist, is an individualist to the extreme. His vision for a perfect world is one where all compete to live and only the strongest survive. That’s barbaric to most folks whose brains haven’t been poisoned by weird sectarian internet communities, but it’s also pretty much how RPGs operate: you keep fighting guys who are weaker than you to make yourself stronger until you’re the strongest, and then your character uses that strength to change the world the way they want. This is – crucially – also how this RPG operates. The protagonist might oppose Louis’s vision, but he still has to do so on Louis’s terms. It turns out that the conflict at the heart of liberal democracy is also the conflict at the heart of many power fantasies: we imagine ourselves being strong enough to make the world fairer, but in doing so, we engage with an individualistic framing. When looking at the metaphor of Metaphor, we can think of the protagonist as the story of a game and Louis as the narrative told through its mechanics; ultimately, what a story says is still constrained by what the game does. So the question of whether a story has the power to change the world is complicated by the introduction of the constraints placed upon a story by its medium. Why didn’t Persona 5 change the world? Metaphor implies it’s because its audience is primed to see its brand of power fantasy as apolitical – not even about the world to begin with.

I think increasingly often about a time I got into an argument with the admin of a Persona 5 Facebook meme page. He’d posted a meme complaining about people’s need to inject politics into Persona 5, an otherwise apolitical game. I found this absurd. The game in which you infiltrate the Japanese Diet building to stop a fascist from stealing an election is apolitical? The game where the personification of humanity’s tendency toward rebellion leads the party into battle to destroy the god of wealth at the center of a panopticon? It was beyond comprehension. But an art form that constrains most of its narratives to center around accruing power through conflict in order to elevate oneself as an individual has maybe inevitably attracted an audience that’s allergic to the idea that fiction can and usually does say something about the real world. And when I say “allergic,” I don’t simply mean “unwilling.” We’ve crossed into a political moment where the arbitrarily-defined level of “woke” in a piece of media determines whether a chunk of people will deign to engage with it at all, but based on my googling, Persona 5 is hilariously considered “not woke” (though Royal is simultaneously both “woke” and “anti-woke,” the remake of Persona 3 is too “woke” to bear, and Metaphor ReFantazio is under scrutiny but they seem to be leaning toward “not woke”). So the line in the sand is whether or not a game comments on the real world, but that line is drawn by people with shockingly low media literacy.

One element of the story that confused me clicked into place once I considered this angle. The game’s world is plagued by huge and brutal monsters called “humans.” In the game's world, the word “human” refers only to these monsters, while the sentient denizens of the game’s world call themselves “people,” or refer to themselves by their fantasy races. It’s bizarre to hear characters talk about “humans” and mean big weird giants that massacre towns and aren’t recognizably human at all. But when we consider this through the lens of a metacommentary on games, this choice comes to make sense. In an RPG, the player is a human roaming through a world of non-humans. They’re infinitely stronger than everyone around them, and in the end, only the human’s decisions matter. Everything exists to placate the human, and if the human refuses to engage with a story on its terms, then that pretty much destroys everything the story is trying to do. Those characters who exist solely to make the human feel something become fodder, to be ground up and discarded by the human. If we look at the relationship between art and audience from the perspective of the art, the audience becomes something like a kaiju, applying its own warped reading to the text, forcing it to submit to that reading. A story only gets to change the world if it first wins that battle with the human, and humans are getting increasingly combative. Obviously, there’s story reasons for the word choice that I won’t spoil here, but they align pretty nicely with my reading.

I really enjoyed Metaphor. It took me 110 hours, and I managed to complete all the social links, beat the extra boss, and unlock every class with the protagonist. A run that doesn't do those things probably could finish it in like 85-90 hours. Either way, it's shorter than Persona 5. I still prefer Persona 5; its politics are much sharper, obviously, but it also has a much bolder and more unique style. But anyone who really enjoys Persona or old-school Final Fantasies should give Metaphor a shot, since it's a pretty fascinating merging of the two, and it uses those associations to comment on the video game medium, the purpose of art in fomenting societal reform, and the shortcomings of liberal democracy. And if you haven't played either, it's a long, complex, standalone RPG in a new ip, which makes for a pretty good jumping-on point to Persona, from which it takes many of its mechanics.

[elliotts-personal-property]

I Think I Love You (Joe Elliott x Reader)

A/N: Hey y'all, as promised here's the Joe one shot. Feeling super nervous rn, considering this is the first time I’ve posted my writing on here. I'd love to hear your feedback so I can improve on my writing. I'm open to any and all constructive criticism and encourage it! Anyways… I won't keep stalling for any longer. I hope y’all enjoy this one!!

Warnings: Mentions/references to making out/smut but nothing actually explicit happens.

Ps, if you really want to feel the vibe of this one shot I'd suggest listening to "I Think I Love You" by The Partridge Family while reading this💗

With love, Kris<3

-

Sheffield, 1982

I'm sleeping

And right in the middle of a good dream

Like all at once I wake up

The poor guy had been tossing and turning all night.

Joe couldn't get his mind off of you.

Just the thought of you disrupted his sleep.

From something that keeps knocking at my brain

In his eyes you were perfect. You were the only girl in the world he wanted. Of course that also meant you were the one girl, who in his eyes, had got away. The one he could never have. Why? Because you were his best friend.

For months upon months he was stuck in this endless cycle.

It went a little something like this:

He'd think about you so much so that he'd convince himself that he had to go tell you.

Then he'd work up the courage to say it.

He'd find the perfect time to confess but then start to reconsider his choice. He always would hold it back when he decided it wasn't a good idea after all.

He'd then go back to thinking about how perfect of a moment it would've been and mentally kick himself for not saying a thing.

And the cycle would repeat.

It went on and on and on.

Before I go insane

As a result of this, he hadn't had a good nights sleep in a while.

That night was different though.

I hold my pillow to my head

Something had finally snapped.

And spring up in my bed

He had known how he felt for a long time. But he had never actually come to terms with the gravity of it.

Screaming out the words I dread

I think I love you

All at once it hit him like a brick wall. He realized he truly loved you.

-

On the rare occasion that your best friend felt brave he'd indirectly hint at something more. After a while of not getting any knowing looks from you he just assumed that you were oblivious to all of his side comments. You in fact were not.

After a while you started to get impatient with him.

You wanted to shout it out loud, right in his face, "Dear God Joe just ask me out already!"

Recently those side comments from Joe had stopped. You would've said something to him if he hadn't stopped. But now you weren't even sure if he still cared, or if he had just given up and moved on. It would be stupid to lose your friendship over this. So you stayed quiet just to be safe.

It was a shocker to both you and everyone else how you two hadn't gotten together already.

There were so many signs. It was only a matter of time.

-

This morning

I woke up with this feeling

I didn't know how to deal with

Another night of restless sleep had gone by. It was worse than usual, so much so that by dawn he had already come up with a plan.

He knew what he had to do. He was going to tell you the only way he could. In the only unique love language he knew, through music.

If he was gonna do it, it had to be big and flashy. Joe wouldn't have it any other way.

He couldn't let his feelings lie dormant anymore. No, he thought, this time will be different. This time I won't back out.

And so I just decided to myself

I'd hide it to myself

And never talk about it

He had kept his feelings to himself for the past few years. Joe wanted to tell you, he really did. But in the back of his mind he worried about ruining the relationship you guys already had.

Joe loved you so much that he was willing to hide his feelings just so you wouldn't walk out on his life. He didn't want to lose you over some feelings he had. Ones that he couldn't guarantee you'd reciprocate. So, he believed it was best to keep it to himself.

And did not go and shout it

When you walked into the room

I think I love you

Joe didn't just think, he knew.

Joe was dead set on what he had to do. He just needed to get a few things sorted. First off was getting the guys on board with it.

-

Joe gathered his closest friends together. They were less like bandmates and more like brothers to him. He knew they would help him out. All it would take was a bit of convincing.

"Can you please help me out?" Joe pleaded.

He assured them about his plan.

"It's just one, and it'll be real quick."

"Alright, fine," the bassist answered for them all, "What song is it anyways?"

Joe told them his song of choice and they all gave him odd looks.

Sav cocked an eyebrow at the song choice.

"The Partridge Family? Are you serious?"

Phil chimed in, "You really think a band like us should be playing a song like that?"

Steve rested his hand on his head, "Everyone's going to make fun of us."

Joe tried to defend his choice, "You know it can't be that bad. We're playing in a pub for god's sake. It's not like the whole world's gonna be there."

The rest of the guys seemed unconvinced.

"Come on guys, you said you'd help me. Please?"

He kept on.

"Just help a bloke out, alright?"

And on.

"Please I promise I'll never ask for anything ever again."

Rick half-whispered to Sav.

"You know he's never gonna let it up. Not until we say yes at least."

Sav knew he was right. Joe wouldn't stop bugging them until they agreed.

"Okay fine, but it's only one song."

Joe nodded enthusiastically, "Mhm yeah, just one."

It was settled, they would help. Now all that was left was to get you there.

-

I think I love you

So what am I so afraid of?

The thought of telling you was exciting to him, yet terrifying.

I'm afraid that I'm not sure of

A love there is no cure for

His heart raced as he drove over to your place.

I think I love you

Joe was already cheery about just the thought of you going.

Isn't that what life is made of?

He hadn't felt this excited over something in a long time.

As he pulled onto your street he tapped on the steering wheel. It was due to the mix of both the pure joy of excitement and an ever growing anxious feeling that was building up inside.

Though it worries me to say

That I've never felt this way

-

Believe me

You really don't have to worry

"You'll be there tomorrow, right?"

"Of course," you answered with a wide smile, "You guys go on at eight, right?"

God he loved your smile. It could light up any room.

He melted just looking at you. Anytime you spoke to him he lost all train of thought.

You snapped your fingers to get his attention.

"Joe?"

"Oh- um, yeah. Eight, we'll be on then."

I only wanna make you happy

After you said yes he began going through that same cycle again. He started doubting his whole plan. Wondering if it would work or not.

There was no way he could back out now though. For the past few days they'd been practicing that song, not stopping until Joe felt satisfied with the final product.

He wondered if you would stick around after all of this.

Would you tell him to "beat it" and move on with your life without him? Or would you stay there by his side?

And if you say, "Hey, go away"

I will

Joe crossed his fingers, hoping for the best outcome possible.

But I think better still

I'd better stay around and love you

He was determined to make sure you stayed.

Do you think I have a case?

Let me ask you to your face

Do you think you love me?

Tomorrow night he'd get the long awaited answer to that question.

I think I love you

-

You arrived early, wanting to make sure you were right up front. This is what you always did. It was your way of showing Joe you cared. You mindlessly tapped your fingers against the small stage, waiting for them to come out.

Meanwhile Joe was there fixing himself up in their tiny dressing room, (if you could even call it one). It was fairly small. The owner had "renovated" one of their small back rooms into a "dressing room".

He stood in front of the vanity mirror fluffing out the rest of his hair. Joe was doing any and everything in his power to keep his mind off of the plan. He looked at his reflection as he told himself to just smile and hope for the best. Whatever happens happens, it was no longer in his control anymore.

After waiting for what felt like forever the guys finally came out on stage. As Joe got on he stopped in front of you and sent you a quick smile before turning his attention to the other patrons of the bar.

You cheered along the whole time as they went through their usual set list. It didn't matter how many times you'd seen them, you were always captivated by their showmanship.

Time always seemed to fly by whenever you watched them play.

By now you had memorized their set list and were almost sure they were closing out now, having just played Wasted. They always saved it for last and were just about ready to leave.

That was before Joe had something to say.

The cheering in the room died down as Joe placed the mic back in its stand. He adjusted it right to his level, getting ready to speak.

"We have one last song for you all tonight. We're gonna take a little change of pace if that's alright with you."

He took a glance around at his bandmates, giving them all a quick nod before adding on.

"This one goes out to a very special someone. Someone who means the world to me."

His eyes drifted down to the people in the front row, moving one by one until eventually landing onto you.

"This is for you, Y/N."

Taking one last deep breath in he calmed himself before counting the guys in.

All of them started in, "Ba, ba ba ba, ba ba ba ba, ba."

You giggled at the ridiculousness of it before fully realizing the gravity of this song.

You knew what it was the second they sung the first line.

You hadn't heard it in such a long time and had practically forgotten about it, forgotten how much you loved it. It was always one of your favorites, and Joe had known that for a while now.

All thoughts completely left your mind when Joe began to sing.

"I'm sleeping,

And right in the middle of a good dream,

Like all at once I wake up,

From something that keeps knocking at my brain,

Before I go insane,

I hold a pillow to my head,

And spring up in my bed,

Screaming out the words I dread."

The rest of the guys joined in on the next line.

"I think I love you!”

This was his confession.

His eyes couldn't help but drift towards you.

"I think I love you."

While preforming Joe tried to keep his attention with the rest of the audience equal, but he kept on letting his eyes go back to you, like some sort of magnet that couldn't be pulled apart.

If him dedicating this song to you wasn't the most obvious thing, you'd say his looks alone were enough to tell you that this was for you.

You couldn't help but feel a smile tugging at your lips. Your cheeks started to feel sore from the excessive smiling.

"So what am I so afraid of?"

Every time his eyes caught yours you felt your heart skip a beat.

"I'm afraid that I'm not sure of a love there is no cure for."

Joe really did care about you, deep down inside he did, he always did.

Soon the song came to a close with their repeated "I think I love you's" becoming more and more quiet as they faded off.

They all came front and center, taking a short bow together as the crowd in the bar cheered them on.

The girl next to you had to have already been out of it.

"You're a lucky girl, huh?" she practically yelled into your ear. You couldn't blame her though, she was standing directly in front of an amplifier the whole time.

It snapped you out of the trance you seemed to have slipped into.

"Oh-uh yeah," you smiled.

"Look," she said, swinging her arm to point at the guys in front of you.

The rest of them were making their way off, leaving through the stage left.

Joe was the last one still up there.

You stayed staring at him in disbelief, not even knowing what to do. He had finally said it... or well sung it, same difference. What was there you could do?

He tilted his head to your right gesturing off to the side of the stage, to what you only could assume led to their dressing room.

He flashed you a quick smile before sending a subtle wink your way.

If it was anybody else, you'd say you were surprised by their actions, but for Joe? Well that's a different story.

With both of her hands the girl next to you latched onto your arm.

"Ooh looks like someone's gettin' some action tonight!"

Your cheeks flushed red and you prayed to god no one else heard.

Immediately you turned to Joe, hoping he hadn't heard the girl's remark.

His eyes darted away from you. Before Joe left you saw him trying to suppress his chuckling, but ultimately failing. His smug smile was the last thing you saw as he walked off the stage.

Of course he had to have heard it, why wouldn’t he?

The girl let go of you when you told her you had to leave. She told you something along the lines of, "Have fun tonight!" before you left.

You went around the corner finding the door that you guessed led backstage. The door was locked from the inside and there was no way of getting in. You didn't worry though, knowing that the guys would come out soon enough.

After a couple minutes of waiting by the door an ecstatic Rick swung it open. The rest of the guys shuffled their way out, but with their lead nowhere in sight.

You turned your attention towards the last member to come out.

"Is he?"

"Third door to the right," Sav answered before you could even finish asking your question.

"Thanks."

He gave you a warm smile, still holding the door open for you, letting you slip through to the back hallway.

"See you in a bit," he said, letting the door shut behind you.

Even though there was no reason to, you counted to yourself as you passed by each of the doors.

One...

Two...

You felt your heart race as you got closer to the last one.

...Three

You stood there for a moment trying to see if you could hear anything on the other side. You didn't and knew it was time to stop stalling.

After taking a deep breath to compose yourself you rested your hand on the cool doorknob.

Here goes nothing.

You slowly opened the door as quietly as you could and after shutting it watched the scene play out before you.

He stood there in front of a vanity mirror facing away from you. He hadn't noticed you but you could see his face clear as day through the reflection.

Joe was humming a tune while brushing his hair. You immediately recognized what song it was.

He was humming the one he had just played. His tone was full of pure joy.

Once he was done he ran his fingers through his hair, trying to shape it some more.

The man in front of you looked fine already but seemed to be getting ready for something more.

He adjusted the collar of his shirt before picking up a small bottle of cologne. Adding just a spray to his neck and one to his wrist before turning around.

Joe's humming abruptly stopped and his eyes widened.

"Oh… you're here?"

You'd been caught staring.

At this point any embarrassment that you could have had got washed away whenever he decided to dedicate that song to you.

"Sorry, I-"

"Don't be," he cut you off.

He set the bottle down and slowly approached you, seeming to take his time with it.

You watched carefully as he took every painfully slow step.

You didn't know where to start, but knew you had to say something.

"You guys were great."

"Thank you."

You had to bring it up, you couldn't bare to wait any longer.

"That song you played. Did you?"

You stopped, taking a quick glance around, noting that it was just the two of you in the room, before finishing.

"Did you really mean that?"

His gaze softened at the question.

"Yes."

He paused before stepping closer, leaving barely any room between the two of you.

"I meant every word of it."

Your heart sped up with every word he spoke.

"Y/N I mean it."

His hand moved up to tuck the loose hair behind your ear.

"I think I love you."

You had been longing to hear those words for such a long time. Never in your lifetime did you think it would happen, but it finally did.

He said that to you, and you only.

After all this time, you heard those three words you loved the most.

"I love you."

His hand moved down to cup the side of your face. You lightly nudged your face against his warm palm. Closing your eyes you took a deep breath in, wanting to smell more of the cologne that rested on his wrist.

When you opened your eyes his hand moved down to carefully tilt your chin up.

Your eyes faced him now.

"I love you too."

This was the moment. The moment you waited forever for.

Heart racing and eyes wide you both slowly drew in closer. It felt like the longest seconds of your life, waiting for him to connect with you.

You looked into his emerald green eyes before letting yours flutter closed.

Soon enough you felt the feather light touch on your lips. It felt like heaven to you.

You brought one hand up, letting you fingers run through his light brown hair.

You felt Joe's other hand reach down to the small of your back, gently pulling you closer into him.

All you could do now was relax your body and take in the overwhelming smell of his cologne.

After what felt like an eternity, the two of you finally pulled away from one another. You already missed the feeling of his soft lips on yours.

You refused to back up from him, leaving hardly any gap between you two.

His warm breath fell on your lips as he mumbled, "You don't know how long I've wanted this."

"Me too."

Joe's hands dropped down and his fingers latched onto the belt loops of your jeans before lightly tugging at them, pulling you closer.

Your hips were pulled forward and you lightly bumped against him before falling back and resting mere inches from him.

Joe's eyes quickly scanned over your face as if he was looking for a cue of some sort.

Though you had never seen this look on him before, you knew exactly what it meant.

"Please Y/N."

That short plea was more than enough to get you going.

Your arms almost instinctively wrapped around his neck, letting him know you were okay with it.

"Come on," he said, slightly lowering himself to reach the back of your legs. He lifted you up and stepped back to sit in the armchair placed in front of the mirror

Your legs were pinned close on either side of him, resting between his outer thighs and the arms of the chair.

Without warning the two of you crashed into each other once more, desperate for each other's touch.

He hummed into the kiss, making you relish in the feeling he gave you.

-

You didn't know exactly how much time had gone by, but you knew a decent amount had passed.

Slowly, you drew away from his neck and let out a shaky breath, still wanting more. It had now been a little while since you first got in there and you knew it would only be a matter of seconds until someone barged in looking for two of you.

Your eye contact with him continued as you calmed your breathing.

Lightly pushing yourself away, resting your hands on his stomach, you finally spoke up.

"We should go. They're pry wondering what's taking so long."

Joe thought about it for a second. Seemingly weighing the pros and cons of both staying and going.

"Who cares? Let 'em wonder."

You planted one last quick kiss before making an offer.

"How about later, yeah?"

A wicked smile spread across his face, already thinking of what was to come, "Yeah."

You pulled yourself off of him and tried to fix the newfound wrinkles in your clothes. After getting up he did the same and you stayed there fixing yourselves up.

Just as the two of you were about to walk out you stopped him.

"Wait."

He turned to you.

"You’ve got a little…," you trailed off as you brought your thumb up to the corner of his mouth.

"Something," you finished as you wiped the last bit of red lipstick off of him.

Feeling content with how the two of you looked, you set off out of the dressing room and back down the hallway.

He held the door open for you and led you out into the main room.

You both scanned your eyes around the bar floor trying to find the guys.

Joe grabbed onto your hand and held on as he guided you through the crowd. He led you over to the round booth where they were all seated. As you approached the booth he gave your hand a light squeeze before letting go.

It took only one glance at the you two for the teasing to start.

"Woah!" Phil exclaimed, "What happened in there?"

"Nothing," Joe replied making his best attempt at a deadpan tone.

"You sure about that?"

The rest joined in on by adding "ooohs," sounding exactly like a group of kids in elementary who just found out one of their classmates was called into the principals office.

This was only the beginning of the never ending teasing that was to come.

Phil raised his eyebrows, "Just couldn't wait until you got home, huh?"

Joe rolled his eyes at his bandmates teasing.

Sure you had been gone for a bit, but you knew there had to have been something else causing their reactions.

You looked between yourself and Joe quickly noticing the culprit.

Though you had made sure to get all your lipstick off his face you forgot to check the collar of his shirt. The sloppy kisses had caused you to completely miss his neck in some spots and just get his shirt. The shirt in question being a white one didn't help your case.

There was no sense in trying to rub it off now, and not like you could anyways.

Rick and Sav scooted around to make room for you and Joe.

As you sat down you both noticed all the other guys were already starting their night off with their drinks in hand.

Joe looked around at each and every one of them, "You started without us, aye?”

"We waited for a little while, but you guys took too long," Sav replied.

Joe turned to face you, "How 'bout a round?"

You smiled, "Sure."

-

Thank you so much for reading!! I hope you liked it💗

[next-autopsy]

A/N: Well, hi there! Please enjoy this offering, I love reading your comments, so feel free to drop one for me. Thanks for reading x

Based on the actors portrayal/hbo show and written with no disrespect to the real life veterans. Also all images found on Pinterest.

TW: hmmm....none really?

Tags: @malarkgirlypop, @panzershrike-pretz

Made of Glass

Chapter twenty four: Perfect Timing 

“Run that by me one more time?” If the whiskey Frankie was drinking hadn’t cost so much, she would've spat it out after hearing those words form Bernadette’s mouth. 

“Don’t be weird about it. Joe and I are just going for a walk or something. I’m only telling you so you don’t think I’ve been kidnapped, okay?” 

“Uh huh….’walk’… sure. Have fun.” Francesca smirked, she did not for one second believe Birdie and Joe were going to end the night with a simple walk.

Birdie waved off her friend, rolling her eyes at the insinuation. The woman made her way back to Liebgott, who was waiting for her right where she left him.  

“Everything good?” He spoke when he saw Birdie approaching. 

“Yeah…” The pair began heading for the door, “So, where are you taking me, Joseph.” They hit the cool outside air and Birdie wondered which direction they should start walking. Was is presumptuous of her to head back to the barracks? Joe turned to the right, so she followed.

“There’s this place down the road, real nice for dancing… I figured you'd enjoy a proper spin and not whatever that guy was doing…” He joked, chuckling before letting his mirth slip, becoming somewhat serious, “You can call me Joe, ya know?” 

“I know… but Joe is Joe.” She was referring to Toye, it was eerie calling them both the same name, especially after realizing she had feelings for one of the men, while the other was like family.

“Well, only my mother calls me Joseph.” Spoken matter of factly. Hearing the formal version of his name after not hearing it for so long was bizarre. 

“Then you can beee….” Birdie thought for a moment, finger on her chin, “Joey.”

“No. No way. No one calls me Joey, that’s stupid.” Lieb looked over at the girl, her bottom lip pushed out comically as she puppy dog eyed him. It took two seconds for him to cave, “Fine, you can call me Joey. But if any of the guys start up that nickname, I’ll get you.” His threat was a joke, he wouldn’t actually do anything. Maybe he just wanted something special between them.  

“Ooo I’m so scared, Joey.” Bernadette taunted, a wide smile plastered on her face.

“Yeah, you should be.” He watched her grinning at him and felt lightheaded, he mirrored her dopey look before abruptly stopping in his tracks. 

“Here, this is the place.” He looked up at the name marked above the door, just to be sure. He had been to this pub a few weeks before with Tipper, Floyd and Grant, who had instantly found women to fling around the dancefloor, while Joe sat at the bar wishing she was here. 

And tonight, she was.  

“Fancy.” Birdie deadpanned. The place didn't look like much, dim and dusty. The entryway was not well kept and while Birdie didn’t typically mind, she enjoyed banter with the man who brought her here and wanted to poke fun at him a little. He understood her jest and smiled at her, 

“Hey, don’t judge a book by its cover and all that.” Joe swung open the door and the muted chatter livened up. As Birdie stepped inside, she heard the swing music more clearly and grinned. She loved to dance, with the right partner, of course. 

“Come on, I’ll get you a drink.” Joe steered her towards the bar, they were both nervous, a drink would help ease them into the situation neither of them ever thought they would be in. 

“Whiskey?” Joe queried, even though he knew the answer. He noticed the southerner would accept most beverages, she wasn't really picky, but if she had a choice, the lady would always go for a whiskey. 

“Neat.” She confirmed, somewhat stunned, how did he know her ‘go to’ drink? “Here.” She offered him some folded up bills to cover her drink and some, but he shook his head.

“You're kidding, right?” Eyebrows raised, “Put it away. I’m not taking your money, doll.” The nickname made her breath hitch. She had not expected that from him, yet it sounded familiar, like it was an everyday occurrence. 

“Doll?” It was her turn to raise her eyebrows. 

“Well, if you're gonna call me Joey, I gotta have a nickname for you.” She didn't argue, the warmth in her cheeks and dizzy feeling in her stomach wouldn't allow it. She could accept the pet name; doll, but only from him.

After sipping away and finishing their liquid courage, Joe extended his hand to her, “Dance with me?” 

She paused for a moment, trying not to seem too eager, before accepting his invitation. 

The music that played was fast and upbeat, Birdie was sweating by the end of the first song, though she enjoyed it more than her previous dance. Joe knew what he was doing on the dancefloor, the steps came naturally to him, like he was born for this.  

Both soldiers were glowing, this place had really brought out a euphoric feeling and it showed. Smiles never left their faces as they spun around each other, stepping quickly and holding hands the entire time. 

Joey and Birdie had sat at the bar having danced through several songs and eventually growing tired. They didn't even order another drink, they just sat and chatted, sharing their pasts, presents and futures. 

Birdie learnt his five siblings' names: Mary, Elizabeth, Anna, Barbara and Stephen. She found out he had worked with his father (also Joseph) at a barber shop and then drove cabs after getting his license, he told her that's what he wanted to do when he got back to the states, driving wasn't just a job for him. Joe really enjoyed it, seeing the streets he grew up on and meeting all sorts of unique people. She knew he lived in San Francisco and was beginning to fall in love with his depiction of the city; she wanted to see it for herself. 

Joe had asked her about her family, which she gladly yapped on about. He understood the closeness she held with her relatives and he found himself wishing he could meet them all one day. Bernadette proudly spoke of her new goddaughter; Gracie and Joe’s heart warmed at the thought of Birdie cradling a newborn. She went on to tell him about her childhood on the ranch, being raised with real live animals in her care gave her a great sense of responsibility. 

It was well past midnight when the barkeep called for the last drink, the music was cut off and patrons started trickling out of the building, swaying their way home. 

Their talk was cut short when the barkeep all but shoved them out, shaking his head at the pair before shutting the door in their faces, muttering about young couples.

Birdie checked her watch, it couldn't have been that late, they had only been there…. Five hours?! How had that happened? It was just past 4AM and neither of them had slept yet. Plus she and Joey had up and left all their friends and disappeared, there were bound to be some invasive questions. Birdie did not look forward to Toye and Guarnere’s reactions nor any of the ladies, especially Frankie. 

“Joey…” She sounded out softly, gaining his attention. He turned to look at her and froze, the only light came from a nearby street lamp and the moon. The silvery glow did wonders for her. Joe wished he had a camera so he could document the events of this night, the dancing, the chatting and now her standing in the middle of a barely lit street with the moonlight reflecting in her eyes; he never wanted to forget it. 

“It’s really late.” She spoke quietly, the world around them was asleep and she didn't want to risk waking it. 

He could kiss her. It was the perfect moment, they had just shared an amazing evening, growing closer. And now, he was looking at her and she was looking at him and all he wanted to do was lean down and kiss her. Feel how soft her lips were, taste her and allow her to do the same. 

He glanced down at her lips and back to her eyes, watching for recognition, did she feel it too? 

Birdie saw his silent inquiry and her eyes widened, pupils dilated. She, too, flicked her gaze to his lips and back up, telling him to proceed.

It was the perfect moment and as Joe moved to lower himself to her, she let her heels raise, ever so slightly, onto her tiptoes to meet him halfway.

“Heeyyyyy. I know y-you guys- two. Both of you two. I know yoooou.” They broke apart, the trance worn out at the interruption, fading into embarrassment. 

Nixon stumbled toward them, missing entirely and toppling over into a heap in the middle of the road. 

Immediately, Bernadette was by his side, picking him up off the floor and attempting to balance the inebriated man. Nixon babbled incoherent nonsense, only one or two words could be understood. Joe would have laughed at the lieutenant but he was still processing the almost kiss. 

She had leaned in, hadn’t she? Did he imagine that, surely not. No, she definitely would’ve kissed him back if only they had a few more seconds. 

“Little help here, Joey?” Her voice called to him. Shaking his thoughts away, he joined her on the other side of Nixon, ducking under his arm and hoisting him up. 

“Where are we taking you, lieutenant?” The question wasn’t answered as Nixon flopped over, unable to give the directions to the house he was billeted to. 

“I know where we can take him. It’s not far.” Birdie told her Joey, and they set off down the road with the drunk held between them, pretending nothing had changed. 

Except everything had. It was all either of them could think about, the almost kiss. 

Birdie was lost in her own world. Should she have allowed it to get that far? They had both been drinking, surely the ability to think clearly had been blurred somewhat. Had he really wanted to kiss her or was he just tipsy and lonely? Did she really want to kiss him or was she just convinced she had a crush on the man? Was everything going to be weird with them now? Had this night messed up their friendship?

The house she was looking for came into view, she pointed it out to Joe and they brought the semi unconscious man to the doorstep, before she stepped forward, leaving Lewis to be held up by Joe and raised a hand to knock. 

“Wait.” Joe whispered, “what if we wake someone?" Birdie gave him a pointed look and knocked at the door thrice. 

“That’s kinda the point, Joey.” He just smiled at her use of the new nickname, that was a good sign. He hadn’t told her to stop using it or started to pushed her away, so maybe whatever was happening between them was still salvageable.

The front door swung open and revealed Richard Winters, he was bleary eyed and in his pajamas. 

“Birdie? What are you doing here? It’s…” He checked his watch, “0440!” He then seemed to notice the two men behind her, one slumped over the other and sighed. 

“Bring him in.” 

A/N: ooo okay things are getting interesting! What do y'all think? Do you like the nicknames? I'm still not sure how I feel about them...

I guess Nixon has some perfect timing... Joe and Birdie- not so much

~ Nex ~

Chapter twenty five: A sleepover

Update: I haven’t been writing for a few days, I will be starting up again soon though so don’t think I’ve abandoned this story! Just having a little break, love y’all!

[thiccpettybitch]

🕸 Bitter Sweet - Ch. 7 Miguel O’hara x F!Reader 🕸

Hey guys!

First off, thank you so much to everyone, for your lovely comments, support and vaguely loving yet threatening ask for when Ch. 7 will be out! Here it is baby! I hope you enjoy it! 🥰

I will be taking a small break when it comes to Bitter Sweet, just to finish a few chapters, as I like being ahead of the curve and have time making any changes, I find necessary. I also have a bunch of asks and request from you guys, that’s right! I have them and they are in the works as they fit in well with some of my WIPs.

*Sweats heavily as over 12 WIPS stare at me write another chapter for Bitter Sweet*

So do not worry, I will NOT abandon it I just have a few other projects to get out, with Bitter Sweet being more of a longer chapters, yet more… infrequent? Thing? I dunno, I say this and you might get five more chapters this week, (don’t quote me, I live by the grace of my unmedicated ADHD lol.)

Keep the requests coming in, keep commenting it LITERALLY makes my day! Love all the likes- oh and we hit 1000 LIKES?!?! Thank you so much! I love you guys and please enjoy this chapter! 🥰

At the bottom you will find a visual representation of Miguel under his mask! During the end of the story~ The art was done by the wonderful: @shuploc . If you haven’t already please check out their art, it’s amazing! Go leave them some kudos and enjoy their art!🥰

Part 8

As you made your way to school, music streaming through your earbuds, a cheerful tune filling your ears, the warm sun caressed the side of your face, bringing a smile to your lips. It had been a while since you felt this genuinely happy.

Feeling light-hearted and carefree, you practically skipped your way to school, replaying the events of the previous day in your head.

Gwen held on to your wrist, inspecting the braided bracelet. ‘’Did he tell you why he gave it to you?’’ she asked.

‘’Not… really? He just said it would be something for me to smile at,’’ you said shrugging.

As you both grabbed your books, getting ready to head to your separate classes, Gwen kept giving you these mysterious and knowing looks. Finally, unable to contain your curiosity, you turned to her with a raised eyebrow.

‘’Why are you looking at me like that?’’ you asked, confused.

Gwen shrugged, the books in her hands shifting, ‘’I dunno’, you just look… happy.’’ Rolling your eyes playfully, you bumped into her, and she responded with a nonchalant shrug. Eventually, it was time for the two of you to head to your respective classes – you to science and her to math.

You stepped into the science class, clutching your books against your chest. Your eyes scanned the room, and there he was – Miguel, sitting at a double desk, his head resting lazily on his hands as he cast a casual glance in your direction. Your heart skipped a beat for a moment as you debated where to sit.

The question nagged at you: Should you take the seat next to him? But then, you wondered if you might be too eager, and if he wanted some space, not to spend every class together. A frown crossed your face as you swiftly made a decision – the desk in front of him seemed like a safer choice, right next to... Reilly.

As you walked past Miguel's desk, out of nowhere, he nonchalantly kicked the stool next to him. The stool flew at you with surprising force, smacking you in the side. It didn't hurt, but the suddenness of it shocked you, causing you to nearly drop your books as you caught the chair to keep it from toppling over. Miguel glanced at you, his head still propped up on his hand, seemingly amused by the whole incident.

Placing your books on the desk, you settled into the chair, but not without catching the disapproving look your teacher shot your way. You quickly fixed your hair, trying to keep a low profile as you quietly hissed.

"Could have just asked me to sit next to you," you mumbled under your breath, feeling a bit flustered by the whole ordeal.

Miguel, ever the cool and collected one, just shrugged with a mischievous smirk playing on his lips. "You're the one who decided to sit down. I didn't say anything~," he teased, clearly enjoying the moment.

Feeling a mix of annoyance and embarrassment, you turned your head to give him a sharp look. As you gathered your books, preparing to stand up and move elsewhere, Miguel acted swiftly. He grabbed hold of your chair and pulled it back, effectively keeping you in place. His smooth and effortless movement left you momentarily stunned.

Leaning in, Miguel's gaze remained fixed on the front of the class as he whispered playfully into your ear, "don't disrupt the class, tontita." Despite trying to ignore the shiver that went down your spine, you couldn't help but feel a bit rattled by his proximity.

As if sensing that something was amiss, Miguel continued in a hushed voice, "You feel alright? Your face is a bit red." The slight concern in his whisper made you bite down on your lip, trying to keep your composure in check.

"I'm... fine," you managed to respond, your voice wavering slightly as you felt him leaning in closer. His proximity was almost intimate, his lips teasingly brushing against your ear.

He tutted playfully, his voice dripping with warmth and affection. "Don't lie to me, amorcito. Clearly, something's got you feeling very nervous."

You nervously licked your lips, trying to avoid his intense gaze as you glanced out the window, trying to focus on anything but him, or the way he was eyeing you.

"Or is there another reason your heart is beating that fast, hmm?" he teased, his fingers gently resting against your wrist, the sensation made your eyebrows furrow, and you turned to look at him.

His voice turned hushed, and the Spanish words flowed effortlessly from his lips, sending shivers down your spine. "¿Te pongo nerviosa?’’ he asked, eyeing you curiously, ‘’¿Te gusta cuando hablo en español?" he asked, and you struggled to catch the meaning behind the words, too busy focusing on your breathing.

Turning your head to meet his gaze, you couldn't help but be mesmerized, your breath catching in your throat. His head tilted slightly, a small smirk gracing his lips as his eyes roamed over your face, lingering on your lips.

Then, he spoke again, his thumb tracing gentle circles over your knuckles. "If you wanted me to whisper sweet nothings to you in Spanish, all you had to do was ask, amorcito." The way he said it, the warmth in his voice, it made your cheeks flush, giving away your feelings.

Class seemed to fly by, and by the time the bell rang, you were almost as red as a tomato. Grabbing your books, you hurriedly left the room, trying to compose yourself.

The rest of the day was a blur as you attempted to focus on your other classes, though your mind kept drifting back to Miguel. As you made your way to your final class, your heart pounded in your chest. You flinched when you felt a hand on the small of your back, gently guiding you into the Spanish classroom.

Miguel was behind you, and even though he didn't make direct eye contact, a small smirk played on his lips. He led you to your usual table, but just as you were about to sit down, he playfully moved you to the side, letting you take the seat by the wall and the window.

Huh?

Maybe... this was a perk? You couldn't help but wonder if he was trying to show you how much he cared by being considerate. Now that you two were a bit closer, maybe he wanted to be nicer and show a sweeter side of him?

But, as you glanced down to the hand he had on your thigh, your thoughts quickly shifted. Sitting there, perfectly still, he made sure no one would notice, especially since you were on the inside of the table. That's why he gave you his seat, you realized.

The sneaky bastard!

He was hunched over, his head resting on his hand as he used his other hand to point at different Spanish words and prompt you to say them. Your thighs instinctively twitched, and you tried to discreetly close them, feeling a rush of embarrassment wash over you. You dared to glance up at his face, and he met your gaze with a small, almost innocent look – well, as close to innocent as Miguel could manage.

However, his hand on your thigh didn't move; it didn't trail or retreat. It just stayed there, driving you crazy. He wasn't blatantly groping you, but he wasn't keeping his hands to himself either. The internal struggle was real – your body ached for him to move, to touch you, and you found it hard to concentrate on the Spanish lesson. Your cheeks grew an even deeper shade of red.

Trying to maintain some composure, you cleared your throat and managed to continue with the lesson, but his proximity and the teasing touches kept you on edge. Every time his fingers lingered on your thigh, your heart raced, and your mind went blank. It was a mix of excitement and frustration, all happening while you were surrounded by other students and trying not to make a scene.

Despite your best efforts to focus on the Spanish words, your thoughts kept drifting back to Miguel and the tantalizing tension between you two. You silently prayed for the class to end soon, eager to escape the moment and get some fresh air.

"Why are you doing that?" you hissed, glancing up at him.

"Hm?~" Miguel hummed, sporting the same nonchalant and innocent look on his face.

Pfft, innocent my ass!

"Your hand, why... what are you doing?" you asked, feeling a bit awkward about bringing it up.

"You want me to move it?" he replied, his tone taking on a touch of seriousness, as if he wanted to assure you that all you had to do was tell him, and he'd comply.

Your cheeks flushed a darker shade of pink as you slowly shook your head. "I didn't say that... just... if you're not going to..."

"Well, you haven't asked me to do anything. Not yet, at least," he responded in a husky tone.

If your cheeks got any hotter, your head might just pop. Suddenly, he used his other hand to flick your forehead, and you blinked, looking at him with confusion.

"Enfoca esa cabecita tuya. Say that word for me," he said, pointing at the paper.

Despite the teasing and playful banter, you couldn't help but feel a flutter of excitement mixed with nervousness. Miguel's presence had an undeniable effect on you, leaving you unsure of how to react to his teasing yet tempting advances.

The rest of the lesson followed a similar pattern. Miguel would point at words or sentences, and you'd do your best to repeat them in Spanish or explain their meaning in English. At this point, there was no denying that he knew the effect his Spanish had on you. His hand either lingered on top of yours or rested on your thigh, serving as a constant reminder of his presence beside you – a tall, broad, and undeniably handsome man fully invested in, well… you.

Glancing up, you caught him staring at you with a certain glint in his half-lidded eyes – a mix of mischief and alluring darkness. You couldn't help but wonder what he was thinking, but with the way his thumb softly stroked the inside of your thigh, you had an idea- or two.

The atmosphere was charged with a tantalizing tension, leaving you feeling both flustered and strangely exhilarated. Miguel's proximity and subtle touches had your heart racing, and you found it increasingly challenging to concentrate on the language lesson.

---

Walking away from your locker, your bag hanging off your shoulder, you stared straight ahead, your heart hammering inside your chest. He was walking behind you, a silent agreement that you were going to walk home together. There was something so mysteriously exiting about the fact that he didn’t join you at your side, but instead just walked behind you, close enough that you could smell his cologne.

Swallowing hard, you stole a glance back at him, and instantly, your cheeks flushed with heat. The way he looked at you was intense, his eyes devouring every part of you. You felt a tingle of nerves as his gaze traveled up to your hips and ass, his eyes half-lidded with an alluring smirk slowly forming on his face. You watched as his canine tooth teased with a slight peek, you found yourself momentarily entranced, and in that split second, your steps faltered, nearly causing you to trip. Swiftly recovering, you straightened up, forcing your gaze forward.

Finally, he caught up and walked beside you, emitting a small chuckle that made you feel a tad embarrassed. Just as you were about to break the silence, he surprised you by grabbing your backpack, effortlessly slinging it over his shoulder, and intertwining his fingers with yours. Your face turned bright red, and you were acutely aware that people passing by were stealing glances at you, which only intensified your blush.

---

As the train gradually slowed down, approaching your stop, he gently lifted your hand, planting a tender kiss against your knuckles. Handing you back your bag, he smiled at the way your eyes fluttered, nervously taken aback by the sweet gesture.

"Get your ass home, amorcito," he teased, and you found yourself simply nodding in response. As the train pulled away, you watched him smile slightly, and you let out a deep breath, slowly shaking your head in disbelief.

Making your way home your head was filled with one thing and one thing only; Miguel O’hara. His eyes, his hair, his skin, his face, his hands- oh god his hands… The way he smiled, the way his canine would stick out almost looking like a fang, his body, his voice-

The list went on and on, and your brain started slipping into more impure thoughts. You wondered what it would feel like to have his hand against your bare thigh, to watch his half-lidded and lustful eyes look at you, perhaps from a different angle – looking down at you, running his tongue over his lips and those inviting fangs, as he smirked. Imagining him looking down at you, head tilted to the side, with one hand in your hair as you--

"Y/n!" you heard your name being called out and turned around to see your aunt standing there, enthusiastically waving at you. You hadn't even realized you were already outside your home, but there she was, heading towards her car.

You watched as your aunt made her way into the car, a friendly smile on her face as she waved you over. Intrigued, you made your way over to her, "aunt May, where are you off to?"

"To the bank, sweetie. I need to get some paperwork done and sort out a loan," she replied, her expression showing a mix of determination and mild concern.

You furrowed your brows, wondering why she needed a loan. "Do we have money issues? I could get a job and help out if you need me to."

Her smile softened, and she shook her head. "Oh, no, dear. It's not that serious. They've just been taking their sweet time with your uncle's pension is all, and it's been a bit frustrating. But don't worry, we'll figure it out."

You opened the door, tossed your bag in the back, and joined her with a reassuring smile. She looked at you, pleasantly surprised, and asked, "You're coming with me?"

"Of course! I won't let any snooty banker mess with you," you replied, your smile mirroring hers, as she started the car.

---

As you sat there, observing the bank clerk giving you the most fake and greasy smile you'd ever seen in your life, you mentally sighed, feeling socially exhausted. This was definitely not how you had envisioned your afternoon, but you weren't going to leave your aunt to deal with this jerk by herself.

You watched as he flashed your aunt a sickeningly sweet, pearly white smile, appearing impeccably put together from head to toe. Despite his polished appearance, there was something about him that just rubbed you the wrong way. It was as if you could sense his true intentions beneath the facade as he pretended to help your aunt while suppressing whatever unkind thoughts he had. He tried to mask it with false sweetness, but his unpleasant nature was unmistakable.

"I am so sorry, ma'am, I fully understand what you are saying; however, there is nothing we can do here today, at least not from my end," he said, clasping his hands together on the desk.

"I see... well, where would we have to turn then? This is mortgage money we are talking about, a roof over our heads!" your aunt said, glancing at you with a mix of sadness and embarrassment. Had this situation been more significant than you realized? Perhaps she had been keeping you in the dark to spare you from worry. Your aunt and uncle had always wanted you to focus on your education rather than getting a job, which made sense, but if they needed help, they should have told you.

You looked up at your aunt, offering a sad yet reassuring smile.

"Well, that would be the line, right over there!" The clerk cheerfully pointed towards a line that seemed to stretch endlessly within the bank.

"We already stood in that line; we've been here for over two hours already. They directed us over to you," your aunt explained, clearly exhausted.

"Yes, well, that is the line you need to be in, so..." he replied, his unpleasant smile remaining on his face.

 "She just told you; they sent us over to you. We're not standing in a line for another two hours to be told we need to leave as it’s closing time," you said, your patience running thin. "So, help us, let us speak to someone that deals with pension stuff, specifically."

He eyed you, his smile faltering for a moment before he caught himself. Your aunt mumbled something about not being rude to him and flashed him an apologetic smile.

Ah, I caught that, dirtbag.

The clerk opened his mouth to say something, but you leaned forward, hands on the desk, staring up at him with intense eyes. "I get that this is your job, and you just want to get through the people behind us until the clock hits six and you can stamp out. But this is our home, our livelihood you're neglecting, so please. Help us."

You watched as the corner of his mouth twitched, his smile almost faltering again. "Listen here--- kid," he said, then flashed your aunt a smile, which made her eyes narrow. He leaned towards you, and you sensed his insincerity. "I'm telling you, I can't--"

Suddenly, he stared past you, a look of pure fear on his face before he quickly ducked down under his desk, leaving you and your aunt sitting there, blinking in confusion. Suddenly another desk came flying past the desk you were sitting at, and you and your aunt let out a scream, crouching down on the floor.

A man with four mechanical arms attached to his torso, laughed as his steel appendages pushed desks, chairs, and people out of his way. Your aunt crawled over to you and pushed you behind her, instructing you to keep low as she glanced around, and the bank clerk hid behind her as well.

‘’I'm here for the money, but I don't mind crushing a few of you, if  you tempt me," the man declared, turning around with an smile on his face.

A metal arm pointed towards you and your aunt as he spoke, "YOU! Open the vault!"

Both you and your aunt realized he was talking to the bank clerk behind you, the one shrinking back and shaking, holding onto your aunt's shoulder.

"I... I can't!" the clerk stammered, which seemed to send the man into a fit of rage.

The metallic arms slammed into the ground, pulling the man across it and towards the three of you. You watched in horror as one of the arms smacked into you, sending you flying to the side with a painful cry. Your aunt cried out for you, reaching for you but was pulled to the opposite side, being held down by one of the metal arms. You yelled for her as the man picked up the clerk by his arm, hoisting him above all of you and staring at him, teeth gritted together in a snarl.

"OPEN IT!"

"I CAN'T! I- I WOULD IF I COULD! I SWEAR!" the clerk cried out, but the man scoffed and flung him away, sending him towards a wall with deadly force. However, he was saved just in time as a web flew out and caught him, lowering him to the ground slowly.

"That's not very nice of you, Doc Ock. These fine people are just here to do their daily banking," a voice said.

You watched as Spider-Man dropped behind the villain, tilting his head to the side as he observed him. Doc Ock turned around, an evil smile on his face as his shades slid down his nose ever so slightly, taking in the sight of Spider-Man.

"Why don't we take this outside, buddy," Spider-Man said, his arms crossed over his chest nonchalantly.

"Oh, I don't know~ I'm here to make a withdrawal myself, and I do so hate standing in line," Doc Ock replied.

You watched as the metal arm tightened around your aunt, pulling her up from her feet and hoisting her over to him, above the floor. She cried out, and you panicked, eyes darting around in a haze, searching for anything to grab onto. Spider-Man tensed up, as if he was about to charge him, only to freeze as another arm flipped out a large sharp blade.

"Ah, ah~" Doc Ock tutted at him, "we wouldn't want to—"

His head shot forward, the metallic arm letting go of your aunt, allowing her to crawl away in fear as you swung the heavy metal lamp against the back of his head. Doc Ock swung around, a metal arm coming up and grabbing you by the throat, lifting you into the air, choking you. Your face went red as you spat at him, telling him to get his stinking hands off your aunt. He pulled you close to his face, a snarl on his face as he was about to say something.

Suddenly, he dropped you as a pair of legs flew into him, kicking him into the opposite wall. Dropping to your knees, your hand clutched at your neck as you let out a few dry coughs. You watched as Spider-Man landed back on his feet in front of you, a worrying hand held out towards you before he froze. As you looked up at his masked face, you saw him staring down at you, the eyes on his mask looking almost wide, as if he recognized you.

Did he recognize you from when he saved you before?

Suddenly, your head whipped around as a piece of the wall that had been broken off on his impact came flying towards you. You barely had time to close your eyes when Spider-Man caught it, without even looking away from you, his masked face glued to you. He dropped the piece of broken-off wall at your feet, blinking to regain himself. He looked at Doc Ock and then back at you. Grabbing the front of your shirt, he pulled you safely behind a desk and leaned close, his eyes turned into slits as if he was glaring at you.

‘’DO. NOT. MOVE.’’ He said, making it sound more like a warning than a request.

You watched, glancing past the desk as he moved forward. His fists clenched tightly, then abruptly released, fingers arching as the tip of them extended in to sharp talons. You sat there, mesmerized, as he effortlessly leaped into action, crashing into Doc Ock and sending him hurtling towards the wall. The impact shook the room, and the battle commenced with an electrifying intensity.

Your aunt crawled over to you, her hands on your shoulders, inspecting you with fear in her eyes. She rested a hand on your cheek, and you responded by placing your hand over hers, flashing a small smile. Together, the two of you watched the intense battle unfold, with metal arms flailing and grabbing onto anything they could to toss at Spiderman.

People started rushing out of the bank in a frantic frenzy, the blaring sirens adding to the chaos outside. Amidst the panic, your aunt tightly grabbed hold of your hand, urgently guiding you towards the exit. However, in the rush, you stumbled and fell to your knees, a sharp hiss escaping your lips from the pain.

Despite the discomfort, your aunt didn't relent, pulling you up as she continued towards the door. Unfortunately, a mass of people suddenly converged, bumping into the both of you, causing you to lose your balance and fall to the ground again. Struggling to keep up, you called out for your aunt amidst the commotion as people unknowingly trampled and tripped over you.

Finally, a security guard noticed your aunt's distress and quickly rushed to her aid. He helped her back up on her feet and then guided her towards the exit, leaving you behind for a moment. As you glanced up, your aunt's worried face appeared through the crowd, her arms outstretched, urging you to join her. However, before you could reach her, the tide of people pulled her away and outside.

You swiftly gathered yourself, managing to regain your footing amid the chaotic scene. Pushing aside a man who nearly trampled you, you rushed over to a nearby pillar, using it as cover while you surveyed the room. The situation inside the building was becoming even more dangerous, as canisters were shot inside the building and scattered across the floor. One of these canisters landed dangerously close to you, and you found yourself frozen in shock, unable to move.

In an instant, the canister burst open, releasing a thick cloud of smoke that quickly filled the room. Despite the haze and disorientation, you remained focused on finding an escape route. Your eyes darted around, searching for any possible way out of the suffocating situation.

You caught a glimpse of a small window to your right, determination took over, and you sprinted towards it, desperate to find fresh air. However, in your haste, you accidentally collided with a woman, sending her stumbling backward. You quickly reached out a hand to help her up. She took your hand with a shaky 'thank you,' and without a moment's hesitation, the two of you ran towards the window together.

But before you could react; the woman was pushed down to the floor, and you found yourself pinned against the wall, a metal arm pressing down on your throat, making it hard to breathe. You watched as Dr. Octavius, emerged through the smoke, his metal arms moved with eerie grace, skimming the floor as they carried him forward.

"You!" His snarl echoed through the chaos as one of the menacing metal arms lunged towards your face, giving the impression of a malevolent creature eager to sink its jaws into you. A mix of fear and adrenaline surged through your veins, prompting you to grab hold of the arm in a desperate attempt to defend yourself. However, your resistance proved futile as Dr. Octopus effortlessly lifted you off the ground, his iron grip constricting your throat and robbing you of precious air. Gasping for breath, you struggled to break free, the room spinning around you as the grip tightened, leaving you feeling helpless.

Another one of Dr. Octopus's menacing metal arms shot out, catching Spiderman by surprise as he attempted to lunge at him from behind. The villainous doctor swiftly seized Spiderman by the ribs and slammed him into the wall right beside you. A pained grunt escaped Spiderman as he collided with the unforgiving surface, leaving him momentarily stunned.

As Spiderman looked up, his eyes met yours, and he froze at the sight of you pressed up against the wall, a sharp claw held menacingly at your throat. Tears welled up in the corners of your eyes, the terror of the situation overwhelming you.

The eyes on Spiderman's masked face shot up in shock, but he wasted no time. With a growl of determination, he slammed his hand above your head, his talons digging into the wall to anchor himself in place. Despite Dr. Octopus's attempts to pry him away, Spiderman held his ground, using his other hand to grasp the claw around your neck, attempting to pry it open.

The claw emitted whirring sounds and sparks flew, as if it were a living creature in pain, but Spiderman persisted. With a forceful motion, he ripped the claw away from your throat and pushed forward, delivering a swift kick to Dr. Octopus's face. The impact sent the villain stumbling backward, his metal arms releasing Spiderman to support their master instead.

Spiderman sprang into action, showing remarkable strength as he swiftly grabbed both you and the woman on the ground under his arms, carrying you both like bags of potatoes. With incredible agility, he dashed toward the window, leaping out with ease despite the added weight of carrying two people in each arm. In a split second, he released the woman, tossing her safely towards a group of cops who awkwardly caught her.

Turning his attention to you, Spiderman was about to set you down, but his instincts kicked in just in time. He jerked his head up and shot you into the air, catching you on his back and webbing onto a nearby building. Just as he did, two clawed metal arms came flying toward him, digging into the ground where he had been standing moments ago.

"I know you're not a fan of heights, but I don't really have much of a choice, I'm afraid," Spiderman quipped as he firmly dug his claws into the building's wall, scaling it with impressive speed.

You clung tightly to his back, your legs wrapped around his hips and your hands gripping his shoulders. As he mumbled a quiet "hold on tight," you glanced back and found your hand instinctively digging into his shoulders, a small whimper escaping your lips.

Spiderman looked back at you and then glanced down at what caught your attention. There was Dr. Octopus, scaling the building behind you, his metal arms slamming into the surface and propelling him upward.

"Man... this guy just DOESN'T. GIVE. UP!" Spiderman muttered, emphasizing each word. As he continued climbing, he carefully moved you from his back to his front, ensuring you were safely pressed against him.

"We gotta stop meeting like this," he joked, then webbed onto a part of the building. Using his legs and arm, he kicked himself and you higher up the building, one hand securely holding your back to keep you close and safe.

"I... I didn't think you'd remember me!" you joked back, glancing down to find that Dr. Octopus was no longer following you. A slight worry creased your brow as you anxiously looked around.

Spiderman's head perked up, and for a moment, he stopped and locked eyes with you. "You kidding me?" he asked, glancing down to scan the area. "Who'd forget a face as pretty as yours?" he said with a playful smirk behind the mask, trying to lighten the tense situation.

The building shook, causing you to hold onto him tighter, fear gripping you as you looked up at him. Just as he leaned in, seemingly about to say something, you noticed a danger above. Your eyes shot up in panic, and you urgently warned him to watch out.

Reacting swiftly, Spiderman grabbed your hips, pulling you off him and tossing you into the air, like a cheerleader doing a basket toss. You cried out in surprise as you landed on a part of the building with a large ledge, barely able to regain your footing before witnessing one of Dr. Octopus's metal arms slamming into Spiderman, pushing him against the building and then pulling him away roughly.

"No!" you screamed, reaching out for him.

"I will be right back, promise! Don't—uh, MOVE!" he managed to get out before being pulled away from you and the ledge you sat on.

You were now perched precariously on the ledge, your back pressed against it, aware that any wrong move could send you tumbling to the pavement below. Your head spun from the height as you watched Spiderman engaging in a fierce battle with Dr. Octopus.

Amid the struggle, Doc Ock caught Spiderman and looked between the two of you before turning his head to Spiderman with a twisted smirk. "Didn't you get the memo?" he taunted, pulling Spiderman close to his face. "It's not take your girlfriend to work day!" With a forceful move, he raised Spiderman into the air and threw him into another building, sending him crashing through a window.

Fear engulfed you as Dr. Octopus turned his attention towards you. Panicking, you reached for anything around you, trying not to move too much. His metal arms pushed him off the building he was on, and he quickly approached you. His claws dug into the walls next to you, making you flinch and nearly slip off the ledge. One of the arms wrapped around your midsection, preventing you from falling but leaving you hanging over the edge of the building.

Spiderman swiftly landed on the roof in front of you and Dr. Octopus, his head moving between the two of you frantically before stopping at Doc ock.

‘’Doc… don’t. There’s no need to hurt anyone else!’’ He said, his hand held up in surrender.

You couldn't help but whimper as Dr. Octopus pulled you closer to his face, while Spiderman flinched, as if wanting to intervene but restraining himself. "Well, my dear, what is so special about you, hm~?" Dr. Octopus inquired, tilting you slightly to get a better look at your face. Your gaze darted between him and Spiderman, a mix of confusion and terror etched across your features.

‘’Nothing is! It’s just kind of in the job description to save all citizens.’’ Spiderman defended, adding a sheepish, ‘’Sorry kid, no offense!’’ Despite his attempt at humor, you cried out, feeling the pain intensify as Dr. Octopus's arm tightened around your ribs.

"NO! STOP!" Spiderman's voice rang out, a potent mix of anger and fear in his tone.

Threateningly, Dr. Octopus warned, "Lie to me again, and I'll crush her spine." He shifted you to a more visible position, causing the arm to tighten further, and you let out a whimpering gasp.

"OKAY! Okay, just-!" Spiderman growled, his clawed fist clenching tightly as he looked up at Dr. Octopus. "She... she's special! Okay?" Dr. Octopus seemed intrigued, and the arm holding onto you moved back slightly, loosening its grip, allowing you to breathe again. "How?" he asked, eyes focusing on you.

"JUST LET HER GO!" Spiderman roared, making you flinch.

Dr. Octopus turned to look at him, a sickening smirk on his face as he casually shrugged. "You got it, Spidey," he replied nonchalantly. In an instant, you felt the arm release you, and you began to fall, hurtling towards certain death below.

"NO!!!" Spiderman's desperate cry pierced the air as you fell. Time seemed to slow as you made eye contact with him, his masked eyes wide with fear and shock. You reached out for him, your hand trying to bridge the distance as your hair obscured your vision.

Reality hit, and you realized you were falling to your death.

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Find the translations on my AO3 page!

(A visual representation of Miguel under his mask! Once again thank you to the wonderful and talanted @shuploc​ . Please make sure you check out their art, it’s amazing!)

[eyes-of-rock]

Passion Play

Jack Blades X OC

Chapter One

Summary: Ren is the bassist of rock Swedish band Savage Seduction. While on tour with Night Ranger, she catches the eye of Jack Blades and her life changes.

Reblog’s, likes and comments are really appreciated!

Summer 85’

Sometimes life feels like a blur. Like it's moving at a pace, I can't keep up with. Like it's rushing by me. Like I can't even process what just happened and something new happens. It's been especially like that recently. I went from a nobody to rocking some of the biggest stages in Europe as the bassist and co-founder of my band Savage Seduction.

The other founding member is our guitarist and vocalist Gunnar. Gunnar and I have been friends since we met as kids. We grew up next door to one another and both ended up having dreams of being rock stars. Everyone always called us crazy but that fueled us.

Now here we are on our second tour of the States with another gold album and a hit song and video that's on constant rotation. It feels pretty fucking great to be back.

This time we’re touring with Night Ranger. I've never met any of the guys before but I do really love their music. I own all their albums and the last time we played the States I actually went to see them live and it was a great show. So I'm looking forward to playing with them.

That's the most important thing really knowing the band you’re playing with is good and can hold up your standards. It makes it run a lot smoother and from what I've seen Night Ranger can do that. Even if we are the opening at. We aren't as big here as in Europe, but we are making ground. Especially since it was out the second time out.

Currently, we’re backstage before the show starts getting ready. I've got my bass in my lap and I'm warming up on it. Kelly our lead guitarist is sitting across from me doing the same thing on his guitar. Jan our keyboardist and Gunnar are chatting away as they finish up their hair. Mick our drummer is hitting his sticks on the edge of the table while also drinking a beer.

You think it would be weird to be the only girl in an all-male band but it's really not. They just see me as one of the guys. It probably helps I’m not traditionally feminine either. Sure I have my femininity, but most of my interests aren't “girly”. I'm into fast cars and motorcycles. I fix an engine better than any of them. I'm a champion Archer and I did a lot of motocross. It's actually how I met Kelly and got him in the band. So you could say I fit in well with these guys.

Suddenly someone knocked on the door.

“Come in” Kelly calls over in Swedish forgetting we’re in America not our homeland and most people unless on crew probably don't understand it.

“Come in,” I call after him in English playfully hitting my stupid ass guitarist.

“Oh yeah we’re in America.” he laughs.

Then the door opens and on pours the five members of Night Ranger. Who I recognize from being a fan.

“We just came to meet you wish you good.” Jack Blades my bassist counterpart and the frontman, tell us. I must say he's very cute in person and quite tiny. He's kind of like a little mouse but in a cute way.

“Thank you, I’m Ren.” I say first before anyone else in the band speaks up. We all speak English but I happen to be the best. My father is Swedish and I was born and raised in Sweden and very much view myself as Swedish, my mother was an American. So I grew up speaking both English and Swedish. She died a few ago. Unfortunately without ever coming back to her homeland, a choice she made for a reason I'll never know or understand, but I'm here now.

“I'm Jack,” he replies, then points to my bass. It's a signature I make with Hamer. Much like himself. It's a different body shape than him and mine is a deep dark purple shade. “Nice bass.”

“Thanks, it's my signature,” I informed him to play a little riff from one of our songs to show off I guess. She's a beauty and I know it.

“I figured.” he laughs, “it's nice meeting you.”

“It's nice meeting you too,” I tell him with a smile. “We’ll be seeing more of each other I'm sure.”

“I’m looking forward to it,” he says with a charming smile.

Just as our tour manager comes back to tell us we've got 5 minutes till show time and Night Ranger all clear out to let us do our final preparations.

I hand my bass off to my tech and go and check myself one final time. All is looking good. I'm ready to rock these mother fuckers!

[sanstropfremir]

ok, so here's my miscellaneous music show stages post! idk what to even call it in terms of an 'official' title or whatever, but who cares. a lot of my fave stages already ended up in the fave stylings posts or i've talked about them in some other capacity, so this is just for outliers and ones that have stuck in my mind over the last year!

+

set design

test me - xdinary heroes, music core 220723 // the concept of the test me cb was an underground battle of the bands type thing, and i loved the set design of this specific stage because it's so subtle and builts directly out of the existing stage intrastructure. also the yellow jumpsuits are cute, so sue me.

invu - taeyeon, inkigayo 220220 // honestly, i'm just obsessed with the choice to use the led floor panels to to simulate a pool, ringed with the surrounding greenery. the rest of the designs is great but lighting effects are always gonna get me

voyager - kihyun, music core 220319 // i LOVE this ship, it's a great way to work the band into the stage with different levels all in association with the theme.

+

styling

feeling - kim wansun, music core 220108 // the only pants to every exist in the history of ever

wooah hip - mamadol, mcountdown 220127 // my villain origin story is that mamadol was a temporary project group. give us kahi back!!!!

chase - minho, mcountdown 221229 // people have slept on minho's solo which i expected, but honestly i really enjoyed it and i like how he very clearly showed that he had clear ideas that he wanted to explore than aligned with his own interests. the styling overall was not particularly notable bc it's a very naturalistic theme, but this patent leather trenchcoat really is something that only minho could pull off

what if love - up10tion, music bank 221014 // what is even happening with these outfits. i'm obsessed with xiao's shirt.

chronograph - victon, inkigayo 220130 // just looking at any pictures of hanse from any two victon eras should be enough to convince you that gender isn't real.

undercover - craxy, music bank 220819 // fun af fake chain props for the choreo, very theatrical!

focus - ha sungwoon, mcountdown 220825 // he only did one stage bc this was right before he enlisted, but did he need to bedazzle his cleavage like that? did you sungwoon??????? also this choreo is so fucking fast like holy shit you really did the damn thing even though you did not need to

me = naneun - just b, show champion 221130 // if anyone wants to fill me on on what fuck bain is wearing i'd gladly take any info. train conductor chic is all i got

dance with god - craxy, mcountdown 220224 // i can guarantee that on any given day those gold fringed pants will pop into my head at any random time

tomboy - wei, show champion 220608 // no comment

boom - minhyuk, mcountdown 220630 // no comment, but louder. again, another cb that almost made my top stylings list, but i can't keep rewarding him like this. any one of these stages gives me brain damage.

louder - tan, inkigayo 220626 // could not tell you what is going on here. a.c.e's stylist seems to be periodically working with tan and so their styling ranges from fine to excellent to batshit insane on any given day and every single louder stage is a hit. honestly all of their cbs almost made my top stylings list just for the sheer insanity of them.

alone - highlight, music core 221112, YOSEOB PUT THOSE AWAY I SWEAR TO FUCKING GODDDDDDDDD. dongwoon don't think i didn't notice you also but we're not gonna talk about it. also yoseob's collar for this stage i'm gonna be sick who allowed them do this.

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staging and/or other

this GORGEOUS staging of kim jaehwan's back then, it's one of the few times that i've seen in the round used properly in a kpop context and maybe the only time i've seen it on a music show? also great set design and it looks so good with his pinwheel lightsticks.

tbh i just picked a random ascension stage for this, bc the sheer amount of production value they put into everything they do deserves being viewed even if they didn't make any of my other lists. prop kings, literally.

dkz's mcountdown special stage of lupin, because she's a queen and she deserves the love

plus a couple of not specifically music show performances, but they they are music program performances. mostly this is here for me to pimp kbs listen up bc NOBODY watched it except me and nana and it literally had some of the best stages of the year:

kihyun's solo performance of someone's someone on k-909, bc it's soooooo cute. honestly ppl watch k-909 too they put so much production value into everything

dkz on listen up performing a remake of in the rain, featuring kyoungyoon doing a standing backflip for no reason??

seungsik, subin, and sejun (victon) on listen up having a ball and also flipping a couch over

woohyun on listen up being sluttier than he should be allowed to be

ren on listen up god i miss nu'est so BAD

ghost9 on listen up absolutely WRECKING the hundred millionth kpop song named monster

swan absolutely wrecking on listen up stan purple kiss i stg

+

that's a wrap on 2022 posts! now i'm gonna get cracking on all my backed up asks 😭

[gamersonthego]

GOTG Review: AI: The Somnium Files and Famicom Detective Club: The Missing Heir

This is the next game in my Backlog Roulette series, where each month I spin a wheel to randomly select a game on my massive backlog that I must play (though not necessarily to completion). These wheel spins occur on the monthly preview episodes I co-host with my friends on The Casual Hour podcast.

Not every game on the Backlog Roulette wheel is going to be a winner, and they’re not meant to be. Many are games I curiously picked up on a sale or remembered from an old tweet or offhand comment from a friend. 

That was the case with AI: The Somnium Files. Someone described it as a Persona adventure game, and that was good enough for me to snag it on the cheap and hold onto for a rainy day. But it only took a couple of sessions to realize that while The Somnium Files isn't really what I had in mind.

AI is a detective game at its heart. You embody Special Agent Kaname Date, an acerbic yet disaffected gumshoe with a missing eye. In its socket instead is an AI robot called Aiba who pulls double duty as a sort of Zelda Navi-like character while also giving you a host of super powers (like being able to see through objects or hacking into phone records remotely). But despite having these tools available to you, it only makes the moment to moment gameplay even more of a hunt-and-peck ordeal. 

I just couldn’t get into it, especially once my AI eye turned into a scantily-clad anime waifu for little to no reason. The writing goes into a very creepy and horny mode once this transformation occurs, and that was enough for me. Maybe if the game was more fun to play, I’d have been able to overlook it, but after already being bored and frustrated by the larger mechanics, it ended up as the final straw.

Reeeeeal classy, Date.

So instead of slogging through AI: The Somnium Files any further, I put it down in favor of a different Japanese detective game that also happened to be on the Backlog Roulette wheel. One much more stripped down and straightforward (and much less horny), Famicom Detective Club: The Missing Heir. 

FDC is a series of two mystery games that (as the name implies) released on Nintendo’s Famicom console. While the 1988 and 1989 originals never saw a release outside of Japan, Nintendo and developer Mages remade the games from the ground up to release worldwide on the Nintendo Switch in 2021. 

What a difference 30+ years can make.

Loading up the first game, The Missing Heir, the interesting mix of new and old hits you immediately. Gone is the pixel art of the 1988 version, replaced by hand-drawn backgrounds and anime-inspired character designs. The chiptune music tracks have all been updated to more modern instrumentation as well. But ever-present is the simple list of actions and dialogue options of the UI.

And it plays like an old adventure game too, requiring you to select some of the same dialogue options multiple times (or in specific, untold sequences) to unlock further options to progress the story. Occasionally, the game will highlight options in yellow to tell you of new options that have just opened up by some trigger, but that is not always the case, nor do these highlighted options always further the plot either. I can appreciate how a detective game should leave the player room to actually make deductions on their own, but oftentimes in The Missing Heir, I would end up cycling through every dialogue choice multiples times, just crossing my fingers I would finally hit upon the right sequence or frequency. Eventually, I would give in and pull up a spoiler-free guide to cut down on the repetition and get through the story.

Because unlike AI: The Somnium Files, Famicom Detective Club: The Missing Heir actually has a fun story to uncover. Originally being a Famicom game, it’s no Sherlock Holmes, but there are ample rug pulls and intrigue, culminating in a twist you can probably see coming, but maybe not in quite the way you expected. Despite being a game centered around a murder (or two, or three), it’s just kind of a pleasant little experience to work your way through. It’s even got me interested in playing its prequel, The Girl Who Stands Behind.

AI: The Somnium Files may have ended up being a bummer for me (though other people seem to really enjoy it, according to numerous reviews), I’m glad it led me to a game I enjoyed much more. And even better, I was able to trim two games from my backlog this month. That's value, baby!

[thewiseaustralain]

I need yalls advice for a mo. Pretty much every adult I speak to about this tells me it's tough love but all my friends are telling me that is abusive and/or neglectful.

So yeah I need yall to tell me if the following list of actions from my parents is abusive or not.

Telling me to harden up bc I said that ~~~body areas~~~ hurt after cycling for like 5 hours which is not something I've ever done except for that time

Told to "stop being such a bitch" when I was stressed, in considerable pain, extraordinarily dysphoric and period hormones where making me more of a mess than usual

Also been told "don't be such a fucking cow" when I had a migraine so bad half my face was dropping like I was having a stroke. Was also told "the people in Ukraine have it much worse right now so stop complaining" in the same conversation

Had unsolicited weight comments after asking if a shirt that I was wearing was pulling across my shoulders bc I hadn't worn it in a while and I could fell it was pulling weirdly

Been mocked/sternly talked to about liking sewing and having a special interest in historical fashion and historical sewing techniques. Have also been mocked/had remarks about my choice of music, film and TV

Had medical problems ignored/put aside until they couldn't be ignored anymore in my defence I was the main one doing it to myself and my family is really busy

Not gotten any support aside from an initial diagnosis about my mental health problems

Been told off for not cleaning the house 100% perfectly the FIRST time I did it

Been asked to get a towel for my dad eventhough he was closer to the towel cupboard than me. My dad has also treated me like a maid multiple other timed. See 8 as an example of other times

Called one of my best friends, who has severe phone anxiety as well as adhd, hopeless bc she didn't reply back to a text I sent at like 10pm after 12 hours

Had multiple things I know more about manslpained to me

Been asked "why don't you just hit back?" mockingly after other boys kept miming punches and slaps at me (I was 9 when this happened)

Been told to stop having tics so I suppress them anytime I am home with ANYONE

Been told "don't kick your mother, you can't do that" after I used my foot to GENTLY fend of her poking me

Been mocked and guilted about my food choices. Example 1: got a huge $20 bowl of soup when me and my dad were out, got made to feel guilty about my father spending that much money for a single meal for me that I didn't eat for the rest of the day. Example 2: been made fun of by multiple people including both my parents for my weird and irregular eating habits and been told not to eat really any of my comfort foods (which I really eat anyway)

[just-my-type-x]

Katrina gave up everything and started basing her content of off Sam once that influencer house was done. It wasnt til recently that she worked on music again and its not even backed by any music corp, it was just a friend in her room that fixed it on a laptop. She makes no other effort to keep it going, ask yourself why, because she’s comfortable. She stuck to tiktok, her first streams on twitch were filled with promises of Sam and Colby. She rarely does a youtube video without him and when she does it doesnt perform as well. she moved in and immediately started listing things she would change then the same thing with this house and told fans to buy from her store front to accomplish that. She at one point started and still does give up their filming locations and was claiming the paranormal investigation as her thing why because her own stuff wasnt working so she knows associating with him it will. Its not about when she started her career or what she did before him, no one is discrediting that she is a singer and has been working on it for years, its how she maintains her engagement up and so far its through being Sams gf. Can you genuinely tell me that without Sam she would be fine? She would have the same engagement? Same numbers? People would tune in and stay and not ask where he is because i dont think so, every other comment is about her possible marriage to Sam. just look at Devyn as an example, thought she had it and dropped merch and a channel and now her whole niche is just being coreys gf. Its not like Kat is non stop working on her own stuff either, then i would say sure shes her own independent self. The difference between her and stas is a title. She is actually a gf and Stas isnt but so far both have enjoyed the same benefits from being around the boys, trips, fancy dinners, fancy clubs only that kats benefits have an extension which include the houses. As for drinking, drinking socially is fine. When all you do is drink and it becomes a all day thing, and you find it ok to claim yourself an alcoholic as if this is not a major issue that kills people, and you know the majority of the people following you arent old enough to drink that is the problem. I remember last year when people said her and kat were hitting the bottle too much and that people had an issue with and quickly added their own experiences, but they say it in what they think is a joking cool way and suddenly thats fine, please. They are immature, the clickbait, the tweets, the baby voice, the provoking. Its all a tactic to draw the younger audience in but then she tries to act all sexy which is weird. I get if you like Kat but her being Sams gf doesnt mean she doesnt use his rise and platform for her benefit and to the point where her own content and creativity disappears because shes safe with his numbers. Her who she era and now are completely different.

Tho u’re also right, she’s doing a great job at being a tiktoker, so even without sam, that’s what keeps her going and it’s fine.

For the rest, if people really like her, they will definitely keep an eye on her. It’s on the fans who only follow her cuz she’s sam’s gf. If that works for her, that’s fine, but not everything is a success just bc she dates him. And obviously she benefits of some things, if my bf had Sam’s income he would treat me just the way Sam treats her (it’s a general saying, don’t come @ me saying that another guy wouldn’t do the same). If he likes spoiling her, then that’s fine, it’s his choice. And for real now, if she started having her own career, doesn’t matter how she got there, isn’t it normal for her to keep it going? Is she supposed to just stop bc she’s Kat Sam’s gf?

Clickbaiting is a lifestyle at this point, that gave so many youtubers a hot meal on the table every single day. It’s what sells and she knows it. Just because she makes vids with Sam doesn’t make her a social climber and that she uses him. She works on stuff and it’s not entirely her fault that she’s connected to him and obviously people assume he does everything for her to help her grow her platform. As of the redesign of the house, that pissed me off too and i knew people were gonna hate her approach 😂😂😂 and regarding the drinking, i’m way off that subject, cuz if they like showing off their cocktails oh well, but i don’t think they constantly keep in mind how old the people who watch them are.

anyway, as a conclusion, it goes back and forth, it depends on how u look at things. I don’t see her as doing something outrageous, she has a job and just lives in Sam’s shadow so everything correlates with him afterwards. She can’t stop being a content creator/singer, just bc she’s being accused of using him for views and stuff. When sam will feel like he adds too much to her bank account, he’ll back off. Sometimes we gotta keep in mind that they’ve been together for so long, it’s not a crime or even unusual saying that what’s mine is yours and vice versa. She doesn’t compel him to do anything he wouldn’t want to, let’s be honest.

[bisluthq]

Thank you for your response to the other anon about why what matyy said was fucked up and how the hair comment was an attack on blackness because I saw it and felt icky and thought it felt racist but since Twitter is more awful than ever, the replies made me doubt my own opinion.

I’ve never liked him - never vibed with his music, thought the edge lord shtick was silly when he can be articulate and if he cares like he says he does, he could use his platform more like Bono has (which has also been hit and miss, but he had good intentions) but that makes more sense than trying to be edgy for the laff and then try to claim he’s sensitive.

But I also didn’t think he was actually racist before. I thought he was a dumbass. But I didn’t think he’d actually judge someone on their skin, but he fucking went there today! And I think it’s scary how easily the mask can slip and that moment when you realise there was a mask. I’ve been trying to avoid Twitter the last 2 months but like all the men who were laughing at the ‘your body my choice’ was fucking terrifying!!!! Some of them seemed so normal or garden variety conservative but not maga extreme and then they went full misogyny and violent so quickly.

Idk I’m talking in circles but it’s like it’s getting harder to spot the threats now? And with matty i feel like I should’ve thought he was actually racist / had it under the surface even though he wasn’t at a certain level because why does someone need to get to the point of actively hurting before we (me) see their true colours?

Idkidkidk some experts are saying to build a more tolerant society we need to let people say dumbass “jokes” so their fragile egos don’t get hurt and they don’t go far right because they feel excluded, and others are saying to stop any bullshit as soon as it’s said because it’s not ok and people need to learn that asap.

Sorry I’m feeling a lot and i guess a bit concerned about *gestures broadly* everything. Not trying to write a think piece or use your inbox as therapy but I think I was in an echo chamber where things were mostly kind and it seemed like most of ours and the younger generation was so accepting and the illusion of all that has been shattered big time.

yeah. Idk I’ve been watching a lot of comedy specials lately because I’ve been feeling pretty sad about lol everything and I’ve watched a lot of Jimmy Carr and Ricky Gervais and Chris Rock and Bill Burr all four of whom are obviously edgy. But the thing is when Jimmy or Ricky make a rape joke - and they do - it’s so outlandish that you can tell they purposefully came up with a fucked up bit for a joke. When Chris talks about race like obviously he’s not racist and he’s just lampooning stereotypes. You actually can tell intentions. They don’t actually think that shit. With Matty’s “jokes” my thing is… he obviously does think that stuff to a degree or he WOULD NOT get super sensitive over it?

I also think “I was upset” is not a good reason to be racist, misogynist or homophobic. Where I live, there were several incidents where a person got caught on camera saying hate speech in “bad” situations and their excuse in these situations was “oh I was very upset, I didn’t mean it” and my response is always like “I kinda feel like that is WHEN you mean it”. Obviously if you get mugged you’re upset. Obviously you’re very angry at the person who mugged you. But if you go “I’m very upset at the X group of X word” then, wait for it, you’re just racist. Because that’s what your brain spewed up - hate. Idk man I get annoyed or upset with people of various races and various genders and various sexualities and my brain doesn’t default to slurs. I’m also not saying I don’t have fucked up thoughts, obviously I sometimes do, and I try catch myself but I also acknowledge there are micro aggressive things that might slip by because I won’t KNOW that’s what it is. I can’t think of an example - by definition - but obviously I’m not perfect and I’m the product of society. Also sometimes we have jokes/stereotypes we say out loud and ARE funny but specific people might take offense and that’s also fair right idk. I often make jokes about POC making better food than white people for example and my friends generally speaking find it hilarious and it’s certainly not ill intentioned but if someone one day goes “fuck u I’m allergic to chilli you racist cunt” I’ll be like “ok fair enough” 🤷🏻‍♀️🤷🏻‍♀️ I’d still tell the jokes because I don’t believe it’s that fucked up but I get why to someone any stereotype, even a positive one, is hurtful.

I’m also rambling but idk at a certain point when someone shows you who they are multiple times we’ve got to believe them. Matty is imo past excuses. And it’s also like I’m tired of having to be like he’s not a bad person just because he clearly doesn’t WANT to be a bad person because he could also learn. He chooses not to. So at a certain juncture we have to realize maybe he *is* a bad person and again if he didn’t mean any of this shit then why would he keep getting all bent and sensitive about it? Back to my Jimmy Carr example, I guarantee if people tried to cancel him for out of context jokes, he would have a laugh about it because *he doesn’t mean it*. The only reason to get sensitive is if you did mean it in a way 🤷🏻‍♀️🤷🏻‍♀️🤷🏻‍♀️