#and as a way to paint people who try to do something as like. naive and ignorant.

[regulationlistener]

its really so absurd to me that even among people that believe climate change is real the popular belief seems to be "and anyone that tries to do anything to mitigate it is annoying and an idiot" like what are you talking about

[petew21-blog]

I hate myself

I just hate my reflection now so much. His face looking back at me. I know it's my reflection now, but I still can't get used to it.

I never planned on swapping bodies with Zahir. But after what my father did, I had no choice

My father was not always a good parent, but he was great with money. He established a very fine hotel, which he planned on turning into a family business. None of my siblings were interested, because they all had their lives and their jobs. My siblings are all much older than me. I was foolish enough to think that they didn't want to help my father. But after many years of helping out instead of studying, I found out throughout that my father was a monster. He never treated people with respect, bullied his employees, and had many homophobic and transphobic comments to people, which didn't help the business, but he didn't really care as long as he had enough income.

I was closeted. And afraid to come out to my father. I knew our relationship would change after that, and I was right. After coming out to me, he never treated me the same. But he still kept me around to help him. Again, I was too naive to think that he was trying to be a better person. Nope. He got himself a new wife to impregnate and get another son. And after that he disowned me. As if I was nothing. As if I didn't help him enough to hold the place together.

I was furious and depressed. I kept checking the news of the hotel every single time I had a bit of free time. He pretended that he managed well, but it was all crumbling. And then he promoted Zahir. One of my friends who worked his way to the top by kissing ass and lying. Sorry, ex-friends now. He presented my ideas for the hotel as his own the second I left the building.

I hated him. I hated both of them from that moment. Revenge was on my mind daily now, but I had no idea how I would even attempt that.

I stumbled upon a website. It claimed to change your life for the better. Yes, you needed to pay a LOT. But I was desperate. I'm sure you understand. I sent the money and waited

I felt a nauseating feeling in my stomach. I closed my eyes. Something was happening.

I opened my eyes. YESSSS. I was back in my apartement at the hotel. Fuck yeah. It worked. I have my life back

But then I noticed some of my stuff was misplaced. The paintings on the walls were down, much more garbage on the ground than I was used to. I had a really bad feeling. I looked down

"What the fuck" a strange voice now escaped my throat. Manly, but not mine. And down below was a different view than I was used to.

Abs. I never had abs. I would kill to have abs like these, cause the gay community is so toxic about your body.

But I knew this wasn't my body. The skin was darker than my own. Maybe the website gave me a better body along with improved life

I went to the bathroom. And the second I saw my body I thought I was gonna vomit right at that spot.

Zahir

Fuckin' Zahir

That stupid freaking website turned me into Zahir

This must be a horrible joke. I turned into my enemy. A homophobic fucker who worships my father.

I looked at myself. His curly hair, his beard. I have to admit Zahir is not a bad looking guy. Maybe it could be good to be in his body. He is hot, has a great body. Maybe I could score some cute guys looking like this. And maybe I could convince my father to let me take over the hotel. I would be happier and so would my father

Ok, let's see what this body can do

I took off my new clothes. Zahir's hairy legs, hairy balls and a pretty nice dick were now available for me to explore. I entered the hot shower.

I flexed the muscles. "Oh yeah. Not bad" I touched every ridge that I now possessed. I sniffed my hairy armpits. The reeking smell hitting my nose. If I were in my body I would have been already hard at that moment

I got down to my dick. Playing with the foreskin. Feeling the weight of my new hairy balls. They were a bit larger than my own. I started jerking my new dick. Thinking about being in a new body and fucking some hot guy with it. But no matter how much I tried I couldn't get it hard.

"How do you like being impotent?" a very familiar voice could be heard behind me

I turned around and saw my old body standing in the doorway

"Zahir..."

"Not anymore, honey. I'm you now. I have to say, It's gonna get some getting used to being in your fat gay body, but nothing that a few regular trips to the gym wouldn't fix"

"Wait, you're okay with this?"

"Are you kidding? I'm now in the body of your father's heir. All I need to do is come to him and tell him I'm straight and sorry. He'll welcome me with open arms"

"Zahir, you can't do this. You can't ruin my life like this"

"Ruin your life? Honey, look at the body you now have. You should feel lucky to be looking like me. And I can't wait to tell your, sorry MY FATHER, about you stealing money and leaking secret information. He's gonna be so pissed when he finds out"

"I didn't steal anything. You can't just pin shit on my and expect it to work"

"Maybe you haven't, but I have. And I got all the evidence. Anyway, i see you're busy getting to know your... not really working manhood, thanks for that as well by the way. And I hope to never see you again. ZAHIR"

"So that's my story. That's why I hate looking at myself in the mirror"

"Right... Maybe start with something more believable next time I ask about your backstory"

"Whatever. You asked"

"Hey, the guy that was here the last time asked for you. He said that he would leave a good tip if he could piss on you"

"He knows damn well that it will cost him more. No tips will change that"

I took a shot of vodka. "Alright, let's do this. Gotta earn those money"

I looked back in the mirror at Zahir's face. God, I hate myself so much

[demonicbaby666]

Where I Don’t Belong

One shot | Supergirl Masterlist | Masterlists

Fandom: Supergirl

Pairing: Kara Danvers x fem!Reader

Genre: angst & smut

Words: 3.7k+

Warnings: 18+, minors DNI, jealousy, spanking, oral, fingering, strap-on use, degradation (like a little tiny bit), daddy kink, overstimulation, implied squirting, top!Kara, bottom!reader

Summary: Never one to deal with rejection healthily, you find yourself moving from bed to bed, night after night, trying to find solace in the bouts of pleasure strangers offer. But when Kara, the person who drove you to commit such deeds, confronts you, the trajectory of your evening is completely altered.

A/n: I'm rewatching Supergirl, so reap the benefits, peeps, cause after this, it's back to my JJ fic! Also, @rafesgfs didn't let me smoke until I finished this, so it's thanks to her that this was completed today <3

Festering shame that started the night at only a simmer boils over and burns your whole body, sets your skin alight and sloshes the alcohol sitting in your empty stomach in tight circles, like that of a washing machine. It's fucking filthy. Hot, sticky and filthy being pressed up against a stranger, grinding against a hardening cock in hopes that maybe the moderate length of it will taper the resounding feeling you hold for another. 

Everyone deals with rejection in their own way.

Sweat marks your forehead, and the bitter smell of stale spirits permeates your nostrils. Somehow, you convince yourself all you know is the music and the empty promises the body behind you has to offer.

You hear him mutter something, groan in your ear at how you feel so good, how he can't wait to fill you, stretch you. The churning in your gut intensifies, and your throat is thick with bile. You force yourself to moan–ever the obedient woman. He wants to feel wanted; you want the same. It's easy to use each other, get lost in a bit when there will be no consequences, knowing the following morning you'll be gone, and two people will have a hollow sense of satisfaction buzzing between only their legs. It's what you tell yourself; 'It's easier this way', 'You're doing what you need to cope and survive', and 'You're only human'. 

The dancing - if it can be called that - continues with your eyes shut as you try to alleviate the steady burn of desire coated in sticky shame. Addled with flashing lights, the black behind your eyelids brings you little comfort, but you're no longer naive to think anything really will, other than sex, that is. 

It's mucky, the alleyway by the side of the club. The thick air smells like bad decisions and cigarettes, yet you haven't the mind to care. His lips are rough on your neck, stubble rubbing uncomfortably against your collarbone, and you're beginning to pick apart the scent of his sweat under the worn-out notes of cologne. Crazed hands palm at your breasts so manically it becomes hard to derive any pleasure from the act - you force yourself to try. 

Between all the frenzy, your purse slips past your shoulder, landing on the soggy ground, and you find yourself welcoming the reprieve the opportunity garners. 

You spin around, trying to squint past the inebriation to locate it. It's landed short of a murky puddle, and you thank your lucky stars that there were only a few specks of dirt littering the suede material. The effects of endless nights spent dancing and fucking echo in the cracks of your worn-out muscles, your squatting position not helping to dull the ache at all. You know the longer this position is held, the more it'll hurt to stand up, but your reflection stares at you on the surface of brown water, holding you hostage with a haunted picture painting its canvas. 

Sleepless nights tug at the bags under your eyes, leaving the skin gaunt. The colour does not show, but you know, under your concealer, it's tinged purple. There's no shine to your face; highlighter only takes you so far in accentuating your cheekbones and brightening your false smile, never filling the devoid look of a rejected, broken heart. 

The matter of fact is, even if your body is feeling the brunt of unfavourable coping mechanisms, it's better than lying awake in bed and relying on benign hope to see you through the dark hours of the day. 

Brushing the muck off your bag, ready to discover how you would end the night, you look to where your companion should be waiting. It would either be a cheap hotel or his place, never yours; there was something too visceral about doing a stranger in a bed that not even alcohol could mask. 

Except when you turn, it is not a gruff face you find but, "Kara?" 

Confusion marks your face, the question of where your soon-to-be fuck had gone evident because before you can quite finish, let alone begin to ask, Kara's already opening her mouth. 

"He's fine." 

"Where?" 

"What?" she feigns ignorance, picking at a pristine nail. 

"Don't be coy, Danvers," you spit out, trying to sound as authoritative as a whisper would allow. Angry as you might be, no amount of rage or blood toxicity could divest you of the need to keep her secret. "Where is he?" 

She doesn't even try to hide it—the disgust. Her face is awash with it, and her grimace would sting if she hadn't so wounded you already. 

"He's lucky I didn't-" She startles as you step forward, palms jabbing at her chest and knocking her back. If it weren't for the shock of your sudden strike, you're sure she wouldn't have budged at all, but you take the small victory point all the same and continue your mission of forcing Kara off her high horse. 

"You didn't what?" you ask through gritting teeth, "Beat him to a pulp? Drop him off the top of a building? Kill him?!" 

Aware you were now raising your volume to a level bystanders would be able to hear, a fact proven by the far-off looks of a group of young women, you reined your fury in, taking a deep breath and squaring your shoulders. 

"Do you know what you've put me through?" she asks without malice, her choked voice chinking your amour. It seems a genuine question, born from betrayal. Her eyes are wide and waiting, incredulous to believe you'd ever knowingly hurt her in the way you supposedly had. 

"What are you talking about?" 

"Every night," she begins, her jaw twitching. "I have to listen to you with them." 

"You're the one that said we wouldn't work. I'm trying to move on," you sigh.

There's a change in her, a nerve hit, partially hidden by the darkness of the night, but you can sense the change. You see it dance in the narrow shadows of her face, the street lamp illuminating the crux of her soured expression. It's the same stance she's practised over the years, standing before a foe, sizing them up that she now models. Her pupils dilate as her gaze turns predatory, and her nostrils flare to accommodate the substantial drags of air she inhales. With a single stride forward, purpose chiselling at her grinding jaw, fingers move to your hips and hold you firm enough to leave bruises. 

She pulls you into her. The bump of your hipbones clashing against each other vibrates down your legs and weakens your knees, leaving you at the mercy of Kara's hold. 

"By sleeping with the whole of National City?" she seethes, her sharp remark losing more and more of its potency with each puff of exhaled air landing on your lips. 

"What was I supposed to do? You made it perfectly clear you don't want to fuck me!" you yell, the pugnacious timbre of your voice unrecognisable in your ears. 

Gasps bounce off the narrow walls of the alleyway, and incoherent whispers promise gossip will follow you and Supergirl for the next few weeks. You can see it now: a hot news story, the presenter dissecting a blurred image of you and Kara, berating, conspiring, and alluding to anything that will bring in more viewers. 

"I never said that." 

She has you off your feet in less than a second, one arm wrapped around the back of your knees and the other raised skyward. You're off the ground, soaring up and up, till the bodies below turn to ants and the city their humble colony. 

"Kara," you screech, throwing your hands around her neck and holding tight. "What are you doing?" 

"I think what I'm doing is pretty obvious." She's got a smug smile tugging at the corner of her lips that's both titillating and vexing. 

"You're being obtuse on purpose, and it's not nearly as cute as you think." 

Kara at least has the decency to look a little sheepish at that. 

You know the city's landscape well enough to gauge where you're headed. Once a sanctuary, the lofty apartment greets you with its open windows and dim lighting. The TV is on. The faraway laughter of a sitcom audience grows louder the closer you get, igniting a flame to shed light upon shrouded memories once untouched by melancholy. Buttered popcorn still lives in the cracks of that grey couch, the longevity of their stay prolonged by a burning need shared between two people to laugh a little louder and forget the world around them for a little longer. 

You're helpless to the flood of emotions that sweep over you the instant your feet touch solid ground. So much so that when Kara grows bold, dragging you closer by your hips and crashing her lips onto yours, you do nothing but cling to her. 

She's warm like the first fire forged on winter's night and as dangerous as the spitted flames that crackle through damp logs, leaping towards any surface they might set alight. No matter how often the licks of fire eat away minuscule patches of skin, the brief bouts of pain they elicit will always win out in favour of staving off the cold. 

The delve of Kara's tongue into your mouth seeks to devour you, plunging your stomach into the fiery pits of hell, and you let yourself believe, not for the first time, that the only way you'll ever feel alive is to live in heated moments like these. 

The strangers you'd laid with took and took, using your body in much the same way you used theirs, imagining you were someone else, or happily viewing you as no one at all, just a body bred for pleasure. These dalliances may have been brief and fleeting, but they were safe. By morning, it wouldn't matter if expectations weren't met; there would be no discourse about seeing one another again. The sex was transactional. It was a dynamic you'd never have and would never want to have with Kara. What you feel for her runs deeper than one-night stands and self-destructive choices.��

"Stop." You step away from the blonde, unaware of how close you are to the edge of the windowsill, until it's too late and the sharp corner of brick bites at the back of your ankles, knocking you off balance. 

You want to fall, feel the wind against your back as you wait for the inevitable end. Kara doesn't let that happen. She doesn't even allow you the grace to right yourself before her hands are back on you, this time at your waist, whooshing you away from the cool breeze of the open widow. 

"Are you okay?" she asks, holding tighter than strictly necessary, eyes frantically searching for any signs of distress. 

"I'm fine." There's an urge to have her closer again, to feel her pressed firmly against your front, trace the seam of her lips with your tongue and discover how pliant the Kryptonian would become under your touch. 

"Tell me you don't want this," she whispers, lowering her gaze from your eyes to your lips. 

"I-"

"Tell me you don't want me, and I'll take you home. Pretend that none of this ever happened." 

You want so badly to do that, to rein in your desires and do the sensible thing that would save you from bludgeoned heartbreak. 

"You know I can't." 

A beat passes, charged, and laden before the both of you pounce. Kara drags you forward, melding her mouth to yours, encouraged by your hands at the back of her neck. 

"I've missed you," she mutters between kisses, holstering your legs up around her hips. 

It's a puzzle how she manages to continue winding you up into a mess, nibbling and suckling at your neck whilst simultaneously navigating her way through the apartment, all the way to her bedroom. On her unwrinkled sheets, she sets you down, prying herself away long enough to rid you of your clothing. There's a flicker of something dark in her eyes as she casts her eyes up and down your naked body, stopping at the places you know your previous lovers had marked. 

Cords strain in her throat, and you know she's fighting to keep sane at the sight of her property being tarnished with ugly bruises and clumsy scratches. You yank her forward, digging your fingers into the space between her gold belt and the blue fabric of her suit, aimlessly trying not to think about how vulnerable you are sitting stark naked whilst she presides over you, judging you for your poor decisions. Pleading silently for clemency, to be absolved of a crime you never knowingly committed, you stare up at Kara. You urge her to see the fidelity in your heart that will always gleam brightly in your eyes the second she comes into view. Her features remain stoic.

"You knew, didn't you?" 

"I don't-" She cuts you off, ripping your hands away, flipping on your stomach and pinning you down to the bed. 

"You knew that I would be able to hear you. That I would be listening to the sounds of you getting fucked over and over again." The harsh bite of her palm rings in the gelatinous flesh of your ass. 

A perverse pang of pleasure shoots straight to your core, tearing a muffled moan out from your throat. 

"You like that, don't you?" Kara questions, her self-satisfied lilt a clear sign she's already aware of the answer. "You want me to punish you, don't you?" 

"Yes," you weakly admit, burying your shame in the sheets below. 

"Don't move." 

A gust of chilling air is all that's left of Kara. You can feel her moving around the room in bursts of movement, hear the drop of her clothes, and the opening and closing of drawers. A niggling need coaxes over your limbs, tempting them to wriggle and writhe with each new sound that piques your interest. You're getting wetter by the second, imagining all the ways you'll finally find your release with the only person you've ever wanted it with, the imagery enticing enough to send your want into overdrive and your hips angling forward, seeking any friction you can get against your aching clit. 

"Don't even think about it." The blonde tuts, her presence welcome as she settles behind you. A hand clasps around each ankle, and Kara drags you back with little care for the hiss you make as cotton brushes against your sensitive nipples. "Get on your hands and knees." 

You follow her orders, waiting for her touch that never comes. Instead, Kara crouches down, keeping a hair's width away from where you need her most and blows lightly over your sex. You shiver, trying your hardest not to flinch as her breath cools your warm slick. 

"You're dripping," she comments lowly, teasing a single finger through your slit. 

It's impossible not to lean back into the much-needed touch and command more with the insistent rise and fall of your hips. But Kara's prepared. She withdraws, maintaining her proximity to you. Another puff of air bristles against your cunt, this time colder. 

"Kara, please," you beg, shaking with ardent need. 

There's no warning to her tongue delving into your pussy, no preemptive to her harsh approach and fast licks. Left to your own devices, your arms give out. You're left crying into a pillow and gripping onto sheets as Kara runs a muck of your mind and body. The pressure's teetering on the brink of being too harsh, and no matter how much you try to pull away–ease the sting of her pointed tongue against your clit–Kara holds you open, gripping onto your thighs like a vice. 

Your moans carry. They vault through the bedroom and ring between the obscene wet sounds coming from between your legs. There's barely time to release another before lips surround your bundle of nerves and drag the abused bud into a waiting mouth. It's painful and perfect all at once. There's no break from the pleasure. It's all-encompassing, surrounding you like morning fog seeping into the pores of your skin, covering every inch of your bare body in a blanket of sheen sweat. 

A scream tears from your throat when Kara plunges two fingers inside you, and you use the last dregs of sanity within you to bite down on your arm. She's picking up speed faster than you can adjust. The brief milliseconds between every jagged thrust dwindle until all you feel is a constant vibration, a never-ending hum expanding over the entire length of your sopping cunt. 

The coil in your stomach is wound so tight you can feel your muscles contract, and the pressure grows rigid like a metal rod along your spine. With one sharp slap to your ass, you break. Moans are pouring out of you, and your pulse is racing, but where you expect relief to flow, you only find more tension. It doesn't stop. The roaring waves of pleasure keep growing and growing and growing till you're screaming and shaking and begging for reprieve. 

"One more," Kara pants, replacing her mouth with a thumb. "Give me one more baby." 

How anything can hurt so much yet, yield such strong undercurrents of insurmountable bliss is mind-boggling. You're in limbo, stuck on the edge of euphoria and torment. It's a fine line that Kara forces you to walk, but with no other option, you absorb yourself into the pleasure and leave behind the bite of overstimulation. 

You know you can, that you'd cum however many times she wanted. You've been riding the aftershocks of your orgasm for no less than a minute, and already you recognise the signs of your impending release. It happens fast, but what it lacks in duration, it makes up for in magnitude. Every part of you quakes, from your wobbly lip to your unsteady knees, that collapse beneath you. Thankfully, the sturdy mattress catches you, greeting you with its cool exterior–a welcome change from the heat emanating off your body. 

Floorboards creek behind you, dulled by the non-stop thud of blood pumping through your ears. You want to tell Kara that she needs to stop. You need a break. The command dies on your tongue, melted into a contented sigh by the warm lips pressing along your spine and the puffs of cool air following each peck. 

"Tell me when you're ready," she croons hot and heavy into your ear, sending another chill down your spine as she continues her mission of being your personal air-con. 

"I don't know if I can," you reply, turning to face her, but the action is cut short when you feel the end of her prodding at your entrance. The only thing left for you to do is whimper. 

Kara doesn't push any further. The tip of her faux cock leisurely slides between your slit, swinging up and down. Warmth circulates low in your stomach, and small jolts of gratification swing like a pendulum against the walls of the enclosed area. Her hands clasp around your waist, and you brace yourself for impact, expecting Kara to sink into you. The chime of your rough breathing fills the silent space. Nothing happens for a few seconds, then Kara firms her grip and guides you onto your back. You let her, unopposed to finally seeing her golden locks, shimmering eyes and bright smile. 

She's hovering, holding herself on sturdy arms and waiting for the go-ahead. Even now, with desperation etched into her features, looking almost pained at having to wait, Kara still puts you first. Your wants, needs, and desires all outrank reason and logic. It doesn't matter that all she's known the past few years is heroism and gallantry–that she yearns to separate herself from all of it–she'll be Supergirl for a few seconds, applying that restraint she's had to use since the day she landed on earth. She'll hold herself back for you. 

Looking into her crazed eyes, you nod. She's held back long enough for you, her family, and the world. 

"I'm ready." You place your hands on her lower back, pulling Kara forward till she's fully seated inside of you, stretching you so wide it almost burns. "Fuck me like I'm yours." 

The world fades away as you watch Kara's eyes harden, two piercing sapphires eclipsed by blackened lust and an impassioned demand to possess. Immediately, she begins pummeling into you at a brutal pace. 

"I heard what you called them," Kara grits out, her eyes red, her hips stilling the moment her cock roots itself as far into you as it can get. "What you cried out when you imagined they were me."

"Don't stop," you plead between guttural breaths, scratching at her impenetrable skin. 

"I want you to say it. I want you to tell me how you're going to cum on daddy's dick." 

This is all so unlike Kara, and that very thought–that this version of her is all yours and only yours, that you get to see her feral and unencumbered by the scruples of morality and duty–has you beyond desperate. 

"Yes." You hiss at the blunt edge of Kara's hip, knocking against you as she forces herself impossibly deeper. "I'm going to cum all over your cock, daddy." 

Your complacency draws rewards. Kara is back to pounding into you. 

There's something new occurring within you, a sudden pressure forcing Kara out. You can't understand it, not between the shudders running rampant through your body, so strong they feel more like convulsions. Her thumb is steady and swift over your clit, circling the swollen nub till everything becomes too much, and all you see are blazing white lights scattering and interspersing themselves across your vision. 

You can feel your cum rush out of you, spraying onto Kara's cock the moment she leaves you. With every added second, her thumb stays working over your clit, and the push to release everything in you is flooding through the bedsheets, soaking the material through to the mattress. The white lights fade, and Kara's face emerges for only a brief moment before all you see is black. 

—

"Kara?" 

"Mmh." 

"I won't wait forever for you to be ready," you say quietly, fingers skimming through the valley of her breasts. "I can't." 

"I know," she sighs, burrowing her nose into your hair and inhaling. She closes her eyes, and you feel her puckered lips on your scalp. "I know." 

Taglist: @iliketozoneout @homo-oddity @noahrex @lovelyy-moonlight @yeaiamme2 | Click here to be added to my taglist

[kunigamiau]

“ harvey, nobody knows what I see. ”

ryusei shidou x reader

highschool au.

𝄞⨾𓍢ִ໋ ⊹ ࣪ ˖ ⋆˚꩜｡⟢ ˎˊ˗

— ❤︎ —

—

you were never a fan of moving away, far too attached to every house you had the chance of living in, to the memories it brought and most importantly to the people you met. that’s what you learned to realise each time you moved away, you weren’t stupid, even as a child you had realised your weaknesses and made sure to never let yourself truly go because everything was temporary.

at least it was until you met him. the blonde haired peculiar boy at the school you were attending. In your younger years you wanted nothing to do with him. you were opposites after all. He was loud, eccentric and boisterous, you were quiet, reserved and contemplate. well until you had no choice but to.

The first interaction between you was when you were peacefully trying to read your book on the bleachers on a warm summer day, basking in the soft rays of the sun. it was going well until- you promptly woke up with a ball straight to your face, knocking the air out of you as you slightly jerked back. The gasps around you made it all the more embarrassing, your friends were nowhere around you and hearing everyone else either holding back laughs while others were still shockingly watching could do nothing but make you want to crawl inside a hole and never come back out. and that was when he approached you, it was silly but the one thing you remember is how he tripped running over to the bleachers.

“ Shoot, I am sorry ? ” The way his tone was unsure made you look at him with a bewildered but honestly speaking, amused look. After a few more seconds of the seemingly on going staring contest you had going on with him you couldn’t help but let your lips curve upright, a giggle erupting from your mouth, making the equally bewildered boy look at you in a daze, not sure of what to do. let’s just say in that moment two souls tied to one another, because from that day on you were inseparable.

school bleacher conversations were your thing now, whether it would be that you came to watch him practice or you would spend time together revising after school, enjoying the summer time, it was a habit that neither of you denied once it started. bike rides home were idle. you watched the sunset on the back of ryusei’s bike as he talked your ear off about another one of his shenanigans or arguments he had at his football practice despite you being there; he deemed it necessary that you understood his side of the story so those ‘wannabe pretty boys’ as he calls them, don’t try to sweep you off your feet by painting him out to be the bad guy one of these days. to which you would just roll your eyes at and continue listening to him with no sign of refusal.

time with shidou passed faster than you imagined, to the point where you only realised how bad your resolve had broken when your parents gave you the impending news.

moving away. again. except this time you weren’t as neutral. you had finally met someone you wanted to have around, someone who made your life better even without knowing. so like any other naive child you had straight up denied. you didn’t want to move, you wouldn’t move ( it didn’t work. ) So in your antsy frenzy, that night you had made sure to give something to your best friend that wouldn’t let him ever forget about you.

“ What's that ? ” the blonde asked with a curious glint in his eyes as he cotninued to snack on the sweet poki sticks. you replied by looking down, giving him the news. to which he took better than you expected, except from the pout adorning his face now. "Dumbass, why were you nervous to tell me ? ” you simply looked at him huffing “ well ryu’ you don’t exactly- ” but you don’t get to finish your sentence as he pats your head suddenly, “ and why would you think.. I would forget you.” he mumbles the last part more quietly, looking down at his lap with a conflicted look. hearing that, you couldn’t help the smile painting your face as you took his hand putting the morganite, handmade bracelet into his palm. the boy simply looks down at the sudden coldness he felt before immediately doubling down analysing the bracelet. “ I made it ! ” you exclaim proudly, showing off your wrist which had a matching one on. seeing that, he couldn’t help the blush coat his cheeks as he immediately put it on himself. “ ryu.. are your cheeks red right now ? “ you say in a teasing tone that easily gets shut down by him pulling you in a headlock ruffling your hair to which you can only squeal at, giggling as silly bickering erupts from both of your mouths.

That was a very long time ago, now at the prime age of seventeen you’re preparing for yet another new high school, in your third year. it sucked that you had to move in your final year but you reminded yourself that it isn’t something you hadn’t grown accustomed to. In the time of growing up you had met, adored and left a lot of people, yet the one that stuck to you the most was your one and only childhood best friend. moving in and out of Japan had you going insane, and as much as you wanted to keep in contact with everyone, you couldn’t manage it and gave up early on. shidou being no exception of that, which you greatly regretted. Each step you took on the strangely empty Tokyo streets towards your brand new school had you feeling nervous, it was like first grade all over again, every single time. you just couldn’t help the nervous feeling in your heart, especially since you are a third year at a new school, which is not a bad thing, just rare and attention inducing. you dreaded how the day would unfold immediately as you see the huge gates with the name in bold blue writing.

to your surprise your classes were not half as bad as you thought they would, homeroom was simple. you were glad third years here weren’t as curious and judgemental as you imagined. As you walked in, you were immediately greeted by a teacher who led you to the office. There you met your classmate and the student council president, Isagi Yoichi, who was nice enough to take you to your shared homeroom and even let you meet his friends later on after introducing yourself to the new class. now you were currently facing a predicament, due to you starting in the second week; you weren’t able to pick a club so now you, isagi, his best friends bachira, kurona and hiori whom were all your classmates were trying to figure out what club you could join. since it is mandatory. “ What if she joins as our manager ? I mean we don’t have one and it wouldn’t hurt. ” hiori says, trying to improve the defeated mood of the group. “ manager ? “ You say curiously, eyes focused on him, turning to bachira as he exclaims happily “ yea ! we’re all in the football team, isn’t that super duper fun !? ”

he says while putting his arms around the three other boys who just groan in response to his hyper behaviour. "You know what ? That doesn’t sound all too bad. “ you say with a hum as you noted down ‘football team manager’ on your notepad as one of your ideas. “ That's great ! then you can just come now since practice is about to end for the others ! ” yet again, bachira shouts joyfully, this time around getting up and joining your side immediately pulling you up to which you yelp to the sudden force as he just continues giggling pulling you over, leaving the other three boys just looking at each other before sighing and following along you and bachira. It seemed like a great idea before, amazing even but as you’re standing in front of the gym which was booming with noise you could only mentally curse for agreeing, crowds were not your thing; yet these days it’s all you’re a part of. “ It's fine ! Our team isn’t bad ! Even if some people are a bit questionable, they’re alright. “ isagi says, trying to reassure you despite only sparking your nerves more. as you take a step forward towards the door having mentally prepared yourself you immediately open the door while speaking to the four boys,

“ you’re right ! what could go so wrong aha. "

But as if the universe was watching you, ready to prove you wrong and you opened the door a ball is immediately in contact with your face. hard. groaning at the impact you immediately shut your eyes gripping your nose which you were sure was bleeding with how painful the hit felt ( it was not ! ). gasps immediately surround you as you are approached by isagi and bachira from behind you along with kurona and hiori who just look concerned. but before they can even speak, sudden steps approach you, slightly leaning down to your height,

“ Shoot, are ya’ okay ? ” and as if the interaction couldn’t get any weirder a sense of deja vu takes over you as you immediately look at the figure facing you with wide eyes. “ ryu? ” you mumble, shock taking over your senses as the pain you had just faced dilated. you notice his blonde spiky hair, with hot pink tips adorning it, the sharp eyeliner that complimented him even more, along with his freakish height, he had always been taller than you but now the difference seemed even more dramatic. shidou stares at you for a little while longer before finally putting the pieces together and calling out to you, “ n/n ? ” he mumbles, and it truly felt like the world had reduced to only you two as you stare into his eyes with a soft look, tears brimming slightly in your orbs as he immediately takes a hold of your shoulders hugging you tightly. you immediately hug him back, ignoring the awkward atmosphere that was created by your emotional reunion. you didn’t care. what matters most is you had met your best friend all over again, and you weren’t going to let him go again. The other guys could only stare in slight amusement and shock, seeing shidou’s usual fiery, rude, and unpredictable persona immediately crumble down with you was surely a sight to behold.

And with a promise of a hangout date, you were sent back out as the boys were told to go change. to which you were immediately bombarded with questions from your new classmates and few members of the team, “ so you and shidou are dating ? ” bachira asks innocently for the nth time. “ no you idiot," she clearly said that her and antenna freak were childhood best friends. If you had listened-” the two toned hair only booped the black haired male whom you had learnt his name was itoshi rin who only irked at bachira’s touch immediately chasing after him as they ran away from the rest of the group. “ Gotts to say.. you and Shidou are an interesting match. ” hiori says, his accent seeping through slightly, which you found endearing. “ Tell me about it. “ you reply with a sigh, a lazy smile playing on your lips

“ so, that’s y/n huh ? " the red head spoke up to the blonde as he was putting his jacket on. shidou could only mumble a ‘yes’ followed by a nod, looking down at the bracelet on his wrist. "She seems nice enough, treat her well. " sae adds with an amused smirk on his face. The blonde would be on cloud nine at the interaction with the male right now, however he could only smile before replying in the same soft-spoken tone he had welcomed you with.

"Of course I will. ”

𓏵˚˖𓍢ִ໋❀ ˚ ༘ ೀ⋆｡˚

— songs I associated with this •.• !

- harvey, her’s

- over the moon, the marías

- impacto, enjambre

- you might be sleeping, clairo + jakob

- asa, the circus

- sesame syrup, cigarettes after sex

- every summertime - niki

[hauntedraggedyanne]

Writing childish characters

NOT STUPID. NOT NAIVE. CHILDISH. I swear there is a difference you have to believe me I am SICK of childish characters being the go-to stupid one. THEY DON’T HAVE TO BE.

also just to clarify this isn’t meant for writing actual children. It’s meant for teens and adults who act childish.

—Having multiple hobbies that stem from little kids activities (ex: finger painting) and using their knowledge in that to improve upon more advanced skills in that hobby

—They don’t need to be the shortest one in the group. I’m not talking a 1 inch difference, I’m talking like over a foot-and-a-half difference for absolutely no reason. Please don’t make them the shortest one. —Similarly, they don’t need a high pitched voice. If you do both of the ones above, I’m sorry, but you’re describing an actual toddler.

—They might be able to understand children on a deeper level, as they’re more willing to engage in their activities with their full heart and soul. It can lead to some sweet moments between either babysitters, guardians, parents, siblings—whatever you want.

—Does it affect their living space at all? Color choice, wardrobe, food choice?

—Trying not to giggle during random things that have been said in a completely serious context

—They could be acting this way on accounts to being unable to during their actual childhood. When in doubt, trauma.

—Additionally, this could only be something they really showcase in the privacy of their home with a few very close people. Kids cartoons, drawings, bright colored rooms/furniture, stuffed animals, etc. They could be uncomfortable showing this side of them off, but once they finally trust someone, it can be an impactful moment.

—There’s plenty of arcs they can go on. Maybe one of learning to be more mature, maybe one where they begin to understand why they behave this way, or maybe one that doesn’t involve their childishness at all. I don’t know if I made it obvious enough, but I just watched a show with a character who was like 3 ft with the most annoying voice God could give and all they did was be the stupid, childish one and I wrote this in a fit.

[theelastword]

*SPOILERS AHEAD*

So I’ve been seeing a lot of people talk about how big of a mistake Aziraphale made in the finale and how badly they feel for Crowley (instead of feeling bad for BOTH of them). And honestly? I don’t understand the perspective that Crowley getting his heart broken in episode 6 has to mean that Aziraphale was totally naive and wrong and that it’ll take Crowley a lot of time to forgive him, or that Aziraphale’s ending in season 2 wasn’t just as heartbreaking as Crowley’s.

Think about everything we know about Aziraphale, who has never once been power-hungry and— following season 1— no longer cares what Heaven thinks (he even told the Metratron that he didn’t want to go back to Heaven when first approached). Aziraphale only left because he sees angels like Muriel, who definitively have good in them despite everything, or even Gabriel who somehow figured out how to fall in love and find something that mattered more to him than the supposed ‘morality’ of Heaven. Aziraphale sees that spark, that potential of Heaven to be turned into what it should have always been, and he thinks that he can do it because he’s seen proof of angels who can get away from Heaven’s influence, a list that includes himself.

Not to mention THAT look he gave Metatron after he brought up the Second Coming, a look that (at least from where I’m sitting) was a definite steeling of nerves and his own way of saying “Okay, time to take this thing down from the inside”. He was NOT saying that Crowley should reform himself for Heaven, or even that they should go back because he missed Heaven. He was asking Crowley to go with him because he loves him and wants him by his side— and because he knows that Crowley has experience in being there for angels who slowly deviate from Heaven.

Aziraphale wants what he’s always wanted— to keep helping everyone he possibly can, without stopping to do what he really wants and just stay in his beloved bookshop with the love of his life. Because he never prioritizes what it is he wants when he could be helping others instead. That’s just who he is, which is what makes him so selfless and wonderful but also so sad in that he never just…lets himself be happy. And the Crowley that we all know would never hate or have lingering fury toward him for that. What Aziraphale is doing, although heartbreaking to people like me who just want the Husbands to have their little cottage in the South Downs, is actually really brave, AND just as worthy of the sympathy and heartbreak that many fans are feeling for Crowley.

EDIT: Also, as sad/problematic it may be to abandon your life and partner, it’s just as problematic to turn a blind eye to the oppression and injustice of Heaven that, by all means, you have the ability and voice to try to do something about in pursuit of prioritizing what you want. So if we’re going to be mad at Aziraphale, we have to be mad at Crowley, too (and I’ll be disappointed if hypothetical-season-3 paints the narrative that Aziraphale is the only one in the wrong here). Personally, I’m all for not being mad at anybody. I completely understand both of their choices, and I just want them to reconcile and be compassionate to what the other is going through.

[twinsarekeepers]

I’m curious as to your honest thoughts on the show? Like I love pjo and all but the show was a bit of a let down writing wise. There’s always the point of “it’s an adaptation, not a carbon copy” like yes but this new writing isn’t exemplary better than the book just because it’s rewritten by the author himself

I think the show is well-written not because Rick is attached to it, but because I actually like the way the writers are approaching adapting the source material. I have a lot of issues with the original books in terms of writing quality because frankly speaking, I don’t think Rick is a very good writer. He has a lot of interesting things in those books that he never explores or drops within the first two and this fandom gives him and the books too much credit imo.

This is why I’m not very moved when people try to ascribe meaning to a certain scene or choice he made in the books to get mad at the show for changing. As an example, one of the main things people were upset about was the kids “knowing everything” in the show when they were getting tricked left and right in the book. Many posts were dedicated to how the book version is superior because it illustrates how they’re just twelve years old kids so of course they’ll make mistakes and get tricked by monsters.

That’s a perfectly fine interpretation but I was twelve years old when I first read tlt and I was able to anticipate almost every single trap, despite being pretty gullible and naive at that age. My knowledge of Greek mythology consisted of Disney’s Hercules, maybe two Google searches, and my second grade teacher’s reading of the kid friendly version of the Odyssey. No where near the level of Percy who’d been learning for a whole year in an established class on the topic with Chiron or Grover who was literally a satry born into the world or Annabeth, who spent the majority of her life dedicated to studying specifically quests and Greek mythology and was also on the run fighting monsters for a good portion of her childhood. Like twelve year olds can be dumb but those three stumbling into every trap was asking me to suspend my disbelief too far. I remember being upset that they weren’t able to figure it out because it was obvious that Rick wasn’t making that choice to show any personality flaws or character dynamics (because he would’ve had them learn and grow but they never did they just kept being not smart), he just wasn’t able to figure out a way for them to fall into those traps organically so he had to dumb them down.

I think the show was able to get across the characters’ childishness without compromising their established backstories. Yes, Annabeth knew it was Medusa right away because that makes sense for a kid who has experience with running into monsters. But, she still acted very much like a child in her interactions with her (and throughout the episode and season). She lashed out and called her a liar and wouldn’t listen to her side of the story because it painted her mother in a bad light. That’s peak twelve year old behavior.

Yes, Percy figured out Kronos was behind everything, but it makes sense because Percy knows Greek mythology and where Kronos resides. He still very much acts like a child when he asks Hades to give him back his mom in exchange for nothing because it’s the right thing to do.

There are dozens of examples like this for a lot of complaints of the show. And this is not me saying that the show is perfect: every single show has flaws. For me, I wasn’t the biggest fan of the dialogue or the exposition dumping. It didn’t hinder my enjoyment though because I don’t think it was egregious (and wrt the exposition dumping, I expected it because the book did it and there’s really no way to “show not tell” Greek myths). I also didn’t like that we didn’t get to really see the huge clashes between Zeus and Poseidon in the weather (we got references to it through news reports but I would’ve liked something more). I was able to look past it because I really liked the storytelling and the themes the show was pulling out of the original source material.

I loved Medusa-Sally parallels and Medusa-Annabeth parallels. I loved the juxtaposition of Pan’s quest to manifest density. I loved Percy and Annabeth’s opposite trajectory in respect to their relationships with their godly parents. I loved exploring Sally’s choice to send Percy to school instead of camp. I loved explicitly coding Annabeth as autistic. I loved Luke’s backstory being brought earlier into the story. I loved the deadline passing and Poseidon surrendering to save Percy. I loved Persues-Andromeda and percabeth parallels. I loved fleshing Grover out. I loved glory vs home seeking being the central theme of the show.

And lastly, I was able to understand that with a limited number of episodes and run time (due to the nature of child labor laws!), they did the best they could and I feel like they did a pretty good job for a first season.

These are not ALL of my thoughts on the show because that would be a very long post. I gave one detailed example of why I think the show succeeded in something the fandom tries to ascribe the books and it was like three paragraphs lol. Anyway this is not the post to try and convince me that the show is bad for whatever reason you have cooked up. I’m not going to change my mind and I doubt I’ll change yours. Here’s to a season 2 that builds on a solid season 1!

[bellestrinkets]

the only innocent people in read dead redemption 2 were rains fall and the wapiti tribe.

i tend to see much discourse surrounding who was really innocent in the gang, who deserved to be spared. and, while we can all come to the agreement that some indeed deserved better, we have a whole other group of people that not only got one of the worst ends of the rope but just like the characters dismissed them, many playing the game also do.

the ride with rains fall it’s such a bittersweet moment. “brutality and beauty are both around us, yet so often we’re unable to see past our own grievances…”

rains fall was innocent not in a naive way but in a way of a man who had seen destruction and brutality; from such scarring thing stemmed a more insightful understanding of human relations. his fault was peacefulness, but in order to get to it much emotional intelligence was needed; “do not mistake my strength for weakness”, he was naive in the sense he believed the oppressor to have a consciousness, which they very much lacked. eagle flies saw the latter, however missed the former. falling for the youthful spirit of a tiring fight that could not be won, because there was nothing the government was not willing to do to strip the natives from anything that kept them afloat. wee see it throughout the game, the killing of the bisons, the burning and stealing of their sacred objects, the abuse, the obstruction of the vaccines. the government were (and are) greedy for corruption, greedy for blood and eagle flies, while acknowledging it, failed to see the extent to which they could go just to get their hands tainted red. something that his father did see.

so then we got some of our main characters;

dutch, who saw the gap and took advantage of it.

arthur, who also saw the gap and while he tried to mend it he got in too late.

charles, who i believe was a balance between both viewpoints from rains falls and eagle flies.

the tragedy and reality contained in this set of missions is too grave. it is not bereft of humanity, much of it appeals to the player’s human side. they are moving and unjust, even more so knowing the ending of them.

furthermore, this missions gifts us something about arthur that helps paint him in a whole new light. the death of isaac. this missions gifts us some of the most merciless parallels between paternities, what was and could have been.

eagle flies dying after saving arthur was nothing but intentional. eagle flies dying partially because of a moral code, “you saved my life more than once… to give mine for yours… it’s as it should be” is not but a reflection of the same crafted sense of pride we will see later on being discussed. eagle flies holding up to die in his father’s arms is no coincidence.

dutch took advantage of them in some of the nastiest ways imaginable, he too sinned of perceiving the natives the same way the men, he looked down upon in this ‘new world’, saw them. his moral oratory to bill was nothing but a vice when we come to the realization that he was no different after all from the other tyrants.

they were innocent not because they didn’t knew how to fight or stand up for themselves, but because they were actively used as a weapon to weld a man’s unruly plan and were never seen by him and those who supported him as much more than that. which, yes, also happened with the other characters but this was a whole community, a community that was actively and consciously led to its demise without even the entirety of it being on board with such plan.

thing is, the gang were criminals of some kind, from petty to violent. none denounced what they did to get money because that’s how they had lived, they were all accomplices. while truth can still be held about a few being more innocent than others, perhaps because they didn’t know any better, they were all at fault of their own crimes. rains fall and his tribe were not, they were perceived as criminals but from a colonized standpoint. even when trying to resolve their issues diplomatically they were disregarded and still held in low esteem.

of course history plays a big part in this whole conversation to reach further understanding. red dead redemption 2 portrays, as i already mentioned, legit ways the government pushed the genocide of indigenous people.

so, having this extra layer of abuse painted gold in the name of ‘liberation’ imposed by dutch only deepens the wound. us as player know he does not hold them in high regard, arthur knows it. the innocence i’m referring to comes from the context within the story they’re placed at. so yes, they were innocent and remain truly some of the only irreproachable characters within the game.

[minustwofingers]

love is a laserquest p.1

masterlist

pairing: rockstar!ellie williams x reader

request: @thatgiraffefromtlou so kindly included me on a post about writing something inspired by these beautiful edits :) thank you !

summary: after a serious of unfortunate events, columbia grad y/n y/l/n finds herself using her hard-earned journalism degree interviewing vapid stars and writing articles that she's convinced are rotting her mind. ellie williams has just dropped the album of the year and it's all anyone is talking about, but all she wants is to be off the press train. a certain interview with a certain interviewer might change this.

warnings: no cws, but i will say that i don't know anything about this career path so i apologize if i'm totally butchering it!

a/n: see ? see? i promise i haven't forgotten about you guys/this blog/this request. this is admittedly a short installment, but you've all been so good about waiting and i had a little itch to write tonight. hopefully more of this will be posted soon. i hope you enjoy!

tags :) @intrnetdoll @dazedshoon @lovecaraya @pctcr @sariyaflowr @loser-keiji @prettyplant0 @666findgod @sawaagyapong @rystarkov @buzzybuzzsposts @addisonnie @galacticstxrdust @elliesbabygirl​ @pinkazelma @ariianelle @lu002 @blairfox04 @sparkleswonderland @elliesflower @muthafuckingstargirl @elliewilliamsissubermommyoml @eviestevie-14 @quicksilversg1rl @guacala @crtcrp @overtrred28

wc: 1.8k

enjoy!

“Hi. I’m Y/N.” 

You sit and extend your hand, smiling as diplomatically as you can manage to the girl sitting across from you. 

She ignores you.

“I said hi,” you repeat.

One painted eyebrow arches the slightest, but she doesn’t look your way. 

You grit your teeth. A question list that you’ve meticulously prepared is memorized and tucked away in your mind, but now you’re just furious that you spent so much time preparing for an interview with someone who wouldn’t even look you in the eye. 

While you wait for the camera crew to get ready, you sit and observe the room—movie posters behind both you and Lina, bright lights that are already making you sweat shone down from above, and a homey oak wood coffee table between you two to give the air of casualness. 

God, you hate this. All you want to do is go home. 

“Ready?” a cameraman says from the side. 

You send a game smile his way. “Ready.”

“We’re rolling.”

“Hi!” said the girl across from you, suddenly laser-focusing her attention on you with so much bubbly energy that it made you feel like you’d gotten whiplash. “It’s so good to meet you. I’m so glad that we were able to do this.”

“Me too,” you respond, saccharine sweet. “You have no idea how excited we are to have you, Lina! It seems like all anyone wants to talk about nowadays is your role in Ontario.”

The interview’s length is oppressive and mind-numbing. By the time you ask your last question and Lina sends you her last dazzling smile, you’re already on the brink of offing yourself on the camera for all to see.

“And cut,” said someone over your shoulder.

You relax, letting out a long breath. That was the last one for the day. You got to go home now.

But since you were a normal human being, you give Lina one last try to redeem herself.

“It was great having you,” you say in a way that you hope reads as genuine. “Thank you for coming in.” 

Lina doesn’t respond—she’s already back on her phone, intent on ignoring you. 

The drive home is awful and long and full of LA traffic. It was something you’d never quite forgive your younger self for—not advocating for yourself sooner. If you had, maybe you would’ve already been taking the subway alongside all the other New Yorkers, surrounded by serious people wearing serious clothes and carrying serious things around in their briefcase.

Instead you got the quirkiness of Southern California, all arid air full of cigarette smoke and lost aspirations. When you first came to LA, naive and blithely optimistic about your prospects as a journalist, you thought that living near Hollywood would be exciting, all the energy and dreams like firecrackers to the social scene. 

Then you got off the plane and realized it’d all been a lie. There’s no hope in a place like Hollywood. It’s the most hopeless place in the world, knowing that all your servers and Uber drivers and retail employees are all working 3 other jobs to make up their rent as they chase a dream that will never happen. 

Because no one ever makes it big. Well—no one really. One year into your life at PopNow! has made you interact with more people who have, you suppose, “made it big”, and each interaction is dependably more absurd than the last. Like Lina. God, you hate Lina. 

You reach your apartment right when the sun is kissing the horizon, the royal purple of the night descending upon the sky. That was another thing you missed—the stars. You’d missed them when you were at Columbia, but that was when you knew you went back home to the midwestern countryside. Now you’re stuck in the light-polluted hell of California, and there’s no way to know when you’re going to get out. 

You should have turned the job down, you think to yourself as you get ready for bed. The face wash you rub into your skin obediently forms into silky little bubbles. You should have just done whatever you’d had to do to stay in New York, even if it meant being unemployed and living in a broom closet with 3 other people. 

But you’re a writer. And you’re getting published, and that’s all that matters.

Or at least that’s what you tell yourself.

~

The assignment is in your inbox when you wake up the next morning at a prompt 5:30am. As you go about your normal routine, you let the words in the message sink in.

Alyssa’s in the hospital. Emergency appendectomy. 

Alyssa’s the most senior writer at PopNow!, regularly netting the juiciest recorded interviews. 

…interview today that needs to be completed…

You angrily beat your legs back into scissor kicks as you run through the motions of your favorite apartment-friendly pilates routine. Today was supposed to be your day off.

…musician Ellie Williams…

…2pm…

…great opportunity…

You have no fucking clue who Ellie Williams is. She’s never been mentioned on NPR or the New York Times, the only two news sources you bother to follow, so she can’t be that relevant. Or at least not relevant enough to warrant you losing your one day off. But that’s what it’s like to be working in showbiz. Your days don’t belong to you anymore. 

By the time that you’re in the studio, hands folded and question list memorized, you feel like you know all you need to know about Ellie. 

She’s got everything you need to be a world-wide sensation. Humble, small-town beginnings? Check. Sympathetic backstory that makes even the most hardened viewer’s heart soften? Check. Conveniently conventionally attractive features, well-placed tattoos, and a certain swagger that seems so natural it has to be somehow hard-coded into her genes? Check, check, and check.

You’ve interviewed hundreds of Ellie Williams. You’re ready for this. 

Jan from production sets out glasses of water on the table in front of you, one for you and another poised in front of the empty chair.

“You ready?” she asks, not unkindly. “Don’t be nervous. I know that this might be a bigger one than you’re used to, but there’s a reason why Stephen asked you to fill in for Alyssa. You’ve got this, honey.”

“Thank you,” you say. The smile you send her back is tense, because as much as you hate to admit it, you are nervous. It’s ridiculous how something you don’t even care about for an industry you think is bullshit is capable of getting under your skin, but you’d done very few recorded interviews. When you imagined what kind of hard-hitting journalism you’d be doing back when you were at Columbia, it was nothing like this. 

You sit and wait, bouncing your leg and hoping the rest of you looks at ease. The set is as corny and soulless as always, one tall houseplant shoved half-heartedly between the two blue cushioned chairs like an afterthought. There’s a stack of magazines on the coffee table between you two, as if you’d crack open People mid-shot.

You hate your job so much. You always feel so bad thinking this way—there are people out there who would probably actually kill for the chance to be rubbing elbows with the celebrities you did on a regular basis—but whenever you start feeling too guilty, you think of how you ended up here, your dream internship getting whisked away by fucking nepo baby Becca, and then you let yourself be angry again. 

A door slams shut, and suddenly you’re all business again. 

The first thing you notice about Ellie Williams is that she’s actually very tiny, especially in comparison to the burly camera man that she squeezes by to make her way on set. She’s looking a little preppier than she does on stage, donning a pair of wide-legged black trousers, chunky black docs, and a haphazardly buttoned forest green shirt with the sleeves rolled up just enough for you to see the entirety of her arm tattoo. 

“Hi.” You rise from your chair to offer a hand, feel the pressure of her fingers gently gripping yours. “I’m Y/N.”

Ellie blinks. “Uh, hi. I’m Ellie.” 

“Is everything alright?” 

“I thought Alyssa was going to be interviewing me,” says Ellie. She drops into the chair opposite of you, crossing a leg over the other thigh.

“Emergency appendectomy,” you supply.

The way Ellie reacts makes you regret this immediately. 

“Oh,” she says, cringing. “Shit—oh, can I swear in here?”

“We’re not rolling yet,” you say gently. 

“That’s, uh, really too bad,” she says. Her tattooed hand reaches up to scrub the back of her neck. “I’m so sorry.”

Now it’s your turn to blink and stare at her blankly. “Um, thanks? I don’t really know her.”

“Right, right.” Ellie lets out a long sigh that you take as an offense. The interview hasn’t even started, and the languid way she reclines back in the chair reads as already bored with you. “So, do we just go ahead and…”

“Yes,” you say, feeling the heat rise in your cheeks. “Uh, yeah, we’re ready.”

Brilliant start.

The interview begins in earnest, and for once in your life, you’re actually rattled by this girl, by the way she tilts her head at your questions, tongue running over the flat of her front teeth. She has freckles sprinkled across her nose that didn’t show up in any of the photos you’ve seen of her on stage. The ones where she’s awash in blue light, guitar slung over her shoulder and hair sticking to her forehead. It’s disquieting, honestly, how she could just spring a surprise like that on you. 

By some miracle, you manage to get through your list of questions without forgetting anything, but sometimes you stutter on your delivery and have to fight to keep yourself from grimacing. Nothing that she tells you is ground-breaking, nothing you don’t already know. In other interviews, you’re normally able to slip into a sort of conspiratorial voice, prying out information and digging a little deeper than your interviewees intend. But with Ellie, you’re paralyzed, stuck straight to the script that had been sent over to Ellie’s publicist for approval. 

Not like you’d get away with anything when it came to Ellie, either. She has bags under her eyes that you can see concealer creasing in. It’ll wash out post-production under the bright studio lights, but up close it’s obvious that she’s not interested in entertaining any bullshit. 

When it’s over, you’re sure your face is on fire with how hot your cheeks feel. Ellie looks just as nonplussed as ever. 

“It was nice to meet you,” you squeak out. 

She takes her time answering you, busy with draining the glass of water Jan had set out in front of you both and, once it’s empty, fiddling with the buttons on her sleeves. 

“Likewise,” she says, and then before you can think to say anything else, she’s gone. 

[bhaal-battle-beer-bard]

✨Let's talk about OCs!✨How would you describe your OC's personality/aesthetic? What's your favourite thing about them? Tell us a fun fact(s) about your OC or their creation!

❤️Send this to at least 3 people to spread some OC appreciation!❤️

Thank you 😃😘 OC appreciation is really important. Well, in the BG3 community it's massive anyway. Maybe it will spill over into other fandoms too, so more and more of it 😉 (I wouldn't dare talk about my OCs from other fandoms to be honest 😅🫣)

To not always only do it for Saulus, I will do it for all my three Tavs😁

Saulus' aesthetic is a classy romantic bard one: you have flowers, nature, birds and wooden instruments playing with the colours of the wind. You should know her bard book by now 😉 That is it!

Have real bhaal babe Saulus then it will change to grotesque blood, gore, skulls and madness. So let's better stay with the butterflies and flowers Saulus 😅

In clothes her aesthetic started from a battle bard always in her medium armour.

In the camp she only ever wore decent high-necked clothing. Swapping clothes with Shadowheart's strict Sharite wardrobe was the order of the day because she also likes dark leather, dark purple and silver.

Simply anything to cover as much of her skin as possible, which she does not find desirable like Astarion's flawless porcelain skin.

But thanks to Astarion and other Tav friends and the great @aristenfromwarsaw , who showed her the beauty of her body, Saulus has stopped looking at her body the wrong way and has started loving it.

Now she dares to show more and more skin; yes, she even likes to show her thighs and occasionally her stomach 😉 And sees that she also deserves beautiful dresses, which she loves to wear. Or some crazy black leather clothes are also still her style 😉 (The full bhaal mode is something😂) She no longer hides and now enjoys being sexy and trying new things. She is either an elegant lady or a degenerate Bhaal Leather Warrior, those are her styles xDDD

And that is the fun fact and what I love most about her: She was created for an evil run and just ended up to be and become more and more the silliest good time girl ever! 😄 That is her and I can't deny it. She loves love. She can have a sense of humor like a twelve-year-old boy. She is infinitely stupid and naive when it comes to the people she loves. She doesn't mince her words and is incredibly wisecracking, but she only means it in a funny way.

Oh and her whole character is based on the song Perception check from Tom Cardy 😄 (She hit harder than every warrior)

✨Devorah's aesthetic is dress up doll all the way. She is a drow. She is magnificent. She is beautiful. ✨

Her colors were pink and green at first. Then I saw that blue, black, red and white suit her just as well 😂 So she always matched all her make up and body painting to her clothes. She always wore the finest robes. Better to be well dressed than to be too good. And she had no problem walking around in underwear or even completely naked. 😏😉

So beauty, fine fabrics, beautiful colors, luminous under dark mushrooms are her aesthetic.

Fun fact+most likey: I always liked the name Devorah and thought I would use it in the next fantasy game. I didn't know that Lae'zel's voice actress was called that xD She can give the meanest evil eye "thanks" to Volo 😆

She is playing the flute because Tom Cardy the human bard does ;)The gnome kink came from Barcus' "I would kiss you, but neither of us deserves that" which I didn't have in the first two runs and it stuck in my mind so funny as her mission to kiss him xD Being a drow is just fabulous 😏 All the little goblin men love her 💁‍♀️ It just stayed and...yes I have stupid sense of humor and I love it 😆😆 This bard side of BG3 is kinky, ok? 😄

Jeleyah's aesthetic was based on the fact that blue is her color and she has a slightly Nordic touch. ✨

She is always at the forefront with her golden heavy armor. The shield of her comrades. In camp, however, she likes to take off the armor to show the woman underneath. The loving, attentive and tender woman that she is. Then she likes to wear very feminine and figure-hugging clothes.

Fun fact+most likey: I created her in almost every race because I couldn't decide 😂 And in the end I decided on half-elf. And I still think she looks beautiful. I just love her eyes and her gentle face. Really. Her sweet, beautiful face brings me joy. Especially because I know that she always wanted to do the right thing for everyone and always put the needs of her friends first.

[danyvhell-writes]

vere hcs? preferably for a sub reader but it's fine either way!! thx a lot :P

General Vere headcanons (Touchstarved)

GN reader - no warnings | Thanks for the ask <333 Took me more time than I planned but here it is ! (Sorry for the wait lil anon, I was quite busy this month :') Writing about him was so fun, he's just so malicious and silly ?? Hope you'll like it hehe >:)

• Anything becomes a reason to tease you ! A little smile you gave him ? A blush ? Stammering even just a bit ? He will tease you to death if he can.

• He sees everything. Think you can hide something from him ? Ah, how naive of you. If something bothers you he will know, don't try to put on a mask. "Oh someone seems upset hm..." "No I'm not !" "I just said someone, why do you think you were targeted MC ? Care to explain yourself ?" he says with his devious little smile. You don't even need to speak, he reads you like an open book :').

• Not one to talk about his feelings openly but definitely makes you know when he appreciates your company ! It might be by taking you to private operas, going to fancy teahouse, gifting you little paintings he did, inviting you for shopping and more...

• Want to know how he truly feels ? Pay attention to his ears. They tell a lot more than he does, depending on how they twitch, their angle and much more... reading him becomes way easier.

• Would 100% write you letters. Casual letters where he just writes about his life, spicy letters where he describes in various ways how he would devour you... Whenever he needs to express something, he writes to you and doesn't even expect an answer ! You'll open your enveloppe and see "I can't believe Vanessa, this absolute rotten bitch, stole my silver ring ! Can you believe it MC ? I should rip her finger off with the ring and keep it so she remembers her wrong..."

• If he can get any reaction from you, it's a win. Loves to see how you'll respond to his flirty proposition, especially if you get flustered 👀

• You know this type of people who hit furnitures/stuff when they laugh ? Well Vere does it but with his tail, tell a funny joke and you can be sure you'll get hit (gently...or not) with it !

• Would be thrilled to analyze your sketchbook if you're an artist. Trying to hide it from him ? Not an option, you will show him everything ! I just know he'll sneak it to look through every pages, taking notes of striking elements and how your artstyle translates with different techniques.

→ Drawing sessions with him omg ! At first he'd joke about needing a live model and why not try nude modeling but at the end you guys end up super concentrated in your respective art piece. Definitely wouldn't mind becoming your muse tho...

↑ Adding into this but, he'd leave little notes and cute doodles when you're not looking. You just open your sketchbook and see next to your recent stuff "The lines are timid I know you can do better ;)"or "I was there..." or even "Draw me next time ! I'll be the best piece."

• The both of you together can easily become absolute menace to society. The cheer chaos you can cause is too much for this city ! If Kuras ever finds out about your malicious plans, he'll be disappointed.

• Will let you brush his hair and tail if you're good enough. "Mess with my hair and you know what awaits you !" Please convince him to try new hairstyles, make him even prettier than he already is >:)

• As much as he is an expensive fox, he'll enjoy homemade gifts. He won't show it too much but he keeps everything you've made for him at his place. Bonus point if it's decorative pieces ! (The thought of you taking time to put effort into something for him makes him smile more than he can admit).

• This man likes to cook so don't hesitate giving him recipes you like. Not sure he'll succeed preparing them but the effort is always well put ! If you're good in a kitchen, he'll find an excuse to cook/bake with you.

• Enjoys showing you around the city, especially secret places. He doesn't just share his secret spots with anyone so you can feel privileged !

→ Talking about spots he likes, he will take you to his favourite restaurants. You'd expect fancy, luxurious place but no ! Most of them are little family business owned by the same people since decades. The food is straight up heavenly and you let him know. "I've been around this city long enough to know the best places ! You shouldn't be surprised."

• Grows really protective of you. Of course he knows you can defend yourself, but if anyone dares to hurt you, they'll have to face lethal consequences. Anyone threatening you "Do you want me to break their kneecaps ? I can also hit their sciatic nerve if you wish ! Or maybe-" "Vere no."

• If you enjoy some good gossip, you're gonna be fed just right with this guy ! We know he knows everything, he's the ears of the city. Juicy drama to shocking revelation, he's got every type of story in stock ! All you gotta do is ask and the conversation will last for hours.

• If you're in his presence, forget about personal space. Your space is his now ! His body will always be in contact with yours, even if it's not noticeable at first.

• Makeover ? Yes. You will be his personal doll. If he has to test outfits, color combinations or other stuff you'll be his subject ! He'll try a lot of different clothes on you until you look like the hottest person alive (after him). Dressing you up is one of his favourite activities and of course you guys would wear matching outfits. You two are just ✨fashion✨.

• Don't know why but I feel like he would love playing board/card games, especially if they involve money ! Think you can win against him ? Nope no chance, bluffing is too easy for him and he's an absolute beast (pun intended). Just picture him playing 'loup-garou' (The werewolves of miller's hollow in english I think ? My french ass can't remember), I know he'd kill it !

• Has a very distinctive laugh. You could hear him from miles away and recognize him instantly ! Also it's kinda infectious, if he starts bursting out laughing, you'll easily follow into it.

• This man growls. Like literally. It doesn't happen a lot but whenever he does it always surprises you.

• This is him :

[fizzigigsimmer]

Fargo s5 Episode 8: Manipulation and Codependency.

I am UNWELL after this last episode. I have so many thoughts. What it says on the tin, this is just me processing my reaction to the latest episode so if you are not caught up, spoilers will be found within.

Let’s start with the lady of the hour. Miss Dot. Miss Dorthy Lyon 👏🏾 Put some respect on her name. This character is endlessly fascinating to me. She’s incredibly complex. Almost over powered in one sense, but also incredibly fragile. We’re seeing now in clearer detail what an accomplished manipulator Dot is. She’s not just a fighter. She’s not just hiding and masking her trauma. She is actively playing the people around her and moving them around a board in her mind. The same way Roy does. The same way anyone in a position of power does, honestly.

Roy and Loraine and people in general, we seek control over others out of a place of insecurity, in order to make ourselves feel safe in our little worlds. Survivors of abuse are particularly good at this, and it’s something I am so glad to see the narrative touching on. The media likes to paint victims with cinderella syndrome. They are often childlike innocent caricatures who are endlessly kind and pure in the face of unjustified cruelty, purely so that audiences will emotionally attach to them quickly and feel whatever amount of fear and revulsion the creator wants for the antagonist. But the reality for real people who suffer domestic violence and other forms of abuse is that they’re just people. They have the same potential for good and bad and selfishness, they developed unhealthy coping mechanisms and they learn to play the game just like everyone else. And when you live your life in fear, you have more incentive than most to get good fast at controlling your surroundings.

We see another example of this in Karen this episode. Roy’s current wife is no stranger to her husband’s violent temper and is very aware of the danger he represents. When he’s humiliated in spectacular fashion and likely to lose his election, there’s this palpable tension in the air as the family rides home. We know heads are going to roll, and from the look on Karen’s face so does she. When she first opened her mouth I was so scared for her. lol I wanted to reach through the screen and shake her, like “shut up! That man will kill you.” At first I thought she was being hopelessly naive, saying exactly all the wrong things to try and comfort Roy that were only pressing on the wound. BUT THEN! Then we watch her turn it on Dot. She calls her a curse, playing into Roy’s belief that there are scales to be balanced in order to make the world right again, and pointing out that all of this only happened when Dot came back. She basically says, Dot’s the reason you have bad luck not me. Go hurt her and not me. And then he does. It’s brilliant.

I was on the edge of my seat watching Dot desperately try and hang onto her world. Everything from her name down to who gets to remind Wayne to take his Lactaide medication, using anything and everything at her disposal to do it. When Roy isnt impressed by being reminded he married a child around his own son’s age - oh please, she had hair and her period so she wasn’t a child - she switches tactics quick as a whip and leans hard on Roy’s family man ideals. She relentlessly forces him to confront the contradictions in his actions by reminding him he is destroying a family. Finally, when that fails too she delivers a violent threat. You will do as I ask, or I’m going to hurt you. The writing here was so masterful. They are opposites. We’re rooting for her, and yet, they mirror each other. Dot has been using manipulation tactics she learned at the hands of her abusers to carefully curate a place where she feels safe, and now that it’s all crumbling around her she’s finally starting to see it for herself.

Her scene with Gator was particularly poignant. Because when he comes in, he’s subdued and we get the feeling that he’s there (whether he’s going to admit it or not) purely because he wants to see her. Her, the big sister who used to comfort him while he watched his father abuse his mother. Who then replaced his mother and became his father’s wife while his own mother seemingly abandoned him. The way she plays him in this scene is so heartbreaking to watch but also incredibly insightful. She knows why he’s here: because deep down he wanted to see her. She dances back and forth between playing on their buried bond ( “I didn’t tell the FBI anything” implying, she wouldn’t tell them anything that would hurt him) and plucking on his insecurities (you’re sloppy, you’re weak, you’re a fuck up and your daddy doesn’t love you).

But the biggest card that Dot tries to play is Linda. She tells Gator that she saw her and tries to bring him into her fantasy that Linda got out and has healed from her trauma. That she loves him and never meant to leave him, and that everything will be okay if he just helps her get out. She can take him to his mother and they can leave all of this behind him, and he can finally be free to be the person that deep down she knows he wants to be. And I just love the way this scene was played. Because while it is tempting to believe that Dot is purely just confused from the accident and the sleep deprivation, the music lets us know that more is going on here. We hear flutes, specifically those played by snake charmers. Gator is the snake, and Dot is hypnotizing him before our very eyes. This isn’t the first time Gator has been connected to snake imagery/symbolism either. When Dot decides to tell him why he’s not named Roy after his father, she likens him to a pale little lizard. @tdciago did an excellent post on some of the symbolism we’ve seen in the show thus far, and it really emphasis how often Gator is likened to or associated with snakes: His character bio compares him to the snake in the Garden. His LOL tattoo has forked tongues on the Ls. He's got a "Don't tread on me" flag featuring a snake in his room. He stopped at the Gas 'n Go to "drain the snake." He left an empty Slim Jim wrapper in Donny Ireland's evidence box, that looked like a shed snakeskin. He said that Munch came up "snake eyes."

And as much as Dot’s speech about Linda is about playing on his natural yearning for his mother, it’s also about them too. It’s about Dot. In a way, Dot is also saying that she’s sorry. She never meant to leave him alone. She loves him and she wants things to be alright. They can be if you just help me. Gator obviously wants to believe what Dot is saying is true all of it, but he’s not as dumb as everyone seems to think he is. He knows Dot lies to herself and to others and he calls her out on it. With a single line “You’re lying. You’ve never once in your life told the truth.” we’re left to wonder about all the lies Dot has had to tell over the years. First in order to survive on her own as a teenage runaway, then when she was taken in by the Tillmans, and again when Linda disappeared and she became Roy’s wife.

She told herself that Linda got out, that she was somewhere safe and free and building the life that she wanted. At first she used this lie not to have to face the reality of Roy, of her own likely end, maybe even to appease the twisted sense of guilt she would feel taking Linda’s place and in the light of Gator’s grief over his mother’s sudden absence. Later, she probably used this lie to give herself the courage to be her own Linda. To get out and make the life for herself that she deserved, even if it meant having to leave Gator behind. Even if he doesn’t understand all of the pieces, in his heart of hearts Gator knows his mother is never coming back. She’s either gone or dead, and either way she left him just like Dot did, and Dot is lying to herself.

“I hope you die in here Nadine and that you never see your kid again.” Because that would be justice in his eyes. That would balance the scales. Because he’s never getting out, so why should she?

“No you don’t.” And it’s true. She knows him. Knows he wouldn’t even be here if he weren’t soft. She gave him an opportunity. This was Gator’s crossroad and he chose to stay his course, and the looming figure of Munch reinforces the message that Officer Witt Later delivers, the consequences for Gator are almost here.

Dot too is approaching a crossroad. Because as the episode progresses she is forced to finally confront one of the lies she’s been telling herself for years. Linda is dead. She never made it out. She’s buried under the windmill with Roy’s other enemies. This is not the first time that Dot has seen this windmill, because it was also in her dream about Linda. I would not be surprised if all of Roy’s wives did not witness a body going into that ground at some point or another because of how Karen was so quick to redirect Roy’s rage to Dot. They’re on different sides of the line but they are both fighting for the same thing. To be with their children and not to end up rolled into an early grave.

[dumplingsjinson]

Let me just uh, set some hard fucking boundaries with some of you people in regards to MY relationship.

Do not keep questioning my choices on MY relationship.

First of all, you're not in this relationship. Let me mess up and find out, if worse comes to worst. Let me fuck around and find out. I'm not going to blame you for not warning me, don't worry. Seriously. So stop questioning me.

Don't keep asking me, "Why don't you label things with him? I think it's bullshit that there are no labels. What's the POINT of this relationship if you're not labelled as such and such? You're just wasting your time. Stop that. It's weird. This doesn't seem right to me. Why call it exclusive if there's no labels?"

Let me fucking date how I want, damn. Let me be in a goddamn relationship how I want, without me needing to explain myself to you. You, who I don't even know. You, who's not even a mere acquaintance of mine. Even my friends aren't questioning me, so who are YOU to question me when you know virtually NOTHING about our relationship?

Why are YOU, as someone who doesn't know the full fucking picture, trying to enforce your rigid little rules onto ME? If you like labels and only commit strictly with someone once those labels are established, good for you! Do you!

But don't go on the internet, read the stuff someone shares (which doesn't paint the whole picture, mind you, because I'm not sharing my whole goddamn life biography on here) and then go running into their inbox and yell at them for their choices, or because their choices differs from yours. Don't do that because you don't KNOW them. Don't act like you know everything from the small details you've read. Yes, I share things on here, but only things I'm comfortable sharing. Surface level shit, basically.

What you think is normal isn't always someone else's normal. Please remember that.

The way some of you act in my inbox... It's embarrassing at best and disgustingly rude and kind of intrusive and also insulting at worst. And because you've got the anon feature on, you think you can just say anything. (That's a whole other rant I've been wanting to get off my chest. I've got a few drafts I've never posted that are from months ago lmfao).

Now, to tone down the aggressiveness for a fraction of as second, I get you care about me and it's probably coming from a good place, but I am TWENTY. THREE.

Let me remind you.

TWENTY THREE.

Not three.

Not thirteen.

TWENTY. FUCKING. THREE.

I can make my own decisions. I am a legal adult, probably moreso than some of you out here coming into my inbox and full on trying to start an interrogation with me like I did something wrong for wanting to do things MY way for MY relationship.

And SLIGHTING me for my choices is where I'm setting the hard boundary at.

DO NOT, and I repeat:

DO NOT...

...under any circumstances, come into my inbox and act like I'm a dumb fucking bitch. (I am a dumb fucking bitch, but I'm also a self aware dumb fucking bitch. There's a difference.)

I know what I'm doing, I know the consequences, I know what I'm in for. I'm not fucking stupid and naive. I'm not a 13 year old about to start her first relationship with her high school crush.

So stop treating me like a donkey, and stop questioning my choices. Remember, as harsh as this sounds, some of you need to hear this and REALISE this: You've got no place in my life to do that. Absolutely fucking none.

Learn to read the room and learn that there are lines that shouldn't be crossed.

OH, I need to add this here. Before some of you come into my inbox and ask me WHY I'm sharing shit if I'm not open to opinions on my choices... There's a difference between opinions and civil discussions, and crossing someone's boundaries and questioning their choices because you think YOUR way of doing things is the right way to do things.

Just because I share some stuff on here doesn't mean that warrants you an automatic pass to shit on my choices. Fuck that bullshit, because that's just shitty behaviour and you need to look inwards and realise you're doing a lot more harm than good by being a piece of shit to someone you essentially do not know.

Remember, if you won't say this shit to someone in real life while looking them in the eyes, then don't fucking say it on anon in some stranger's inbox. That's a dick move, and you're a prick if you do that. Fix yourself, for the sake of humanity.

That is all.

[meandheraresoulmates]

I can't be the only person on this planet who thinks that Taylor Swift wrote peace for Jack Dawkins and Belle Fox but since I can't find anything - an edit on tik tok, a thread on x, a post here, NOTHING - I will take matters into my hands and find all the parallels between one of my favourite songs ever and the ship that has sent me into brainrot.

I never had the courage of my convictions As long as danger is near And it's just around the corner, darlin' 'Cause it lives in me

Tell me this isn't Jack before he met Belle. As he said to her in the 1x02, he knows that improvements have been made in medicine but he simply can't barge into the hospital, change things (even if they are for better) and not fear the consequences of his actions. He simply doesn't have the luxury to fight for his beliefs like she has because of his social position and his past, both hovering above his head wherever he goes.

Your integrity makes me seem small You paint dreamscapes on the wall

I love how this line can be read in both ways. It can either be Jack in front of Belle naive idealism (”There's more to medicine than death. There is life. And hope.”) or Belle realising that the world isn't black and white as she thinks - just because Jack and many others have to gamble, play or steal it doesn't mean that they are just common criminals. They are people who aren't born with the same means as her and have to do what's necessary to survive.

Give you the silence that only comes when two people understand each other

Do I even have to say something about this

But there's robbers to the east, clowns to the west I'd give you my sunshine, give you my best But the rain is always gonna come if you're standing with me

You can't tell me these lines aren't written for them. Belle and Jack between episode 6 and 7 live in their own personal bubble, sneaking around the hospital and stealing kisses in cupboards and alleys but they can't escape reality - society will never allow them to be happy together, no matter how hard Jack will try to fit in her world.

But I'm a fire, and I'll keep your brittle heart warm If your cascade ocean wave blues come All these people think love's for show But I would die for you in secret

Here is where I stop being rational if you excuse me i'm going to cry and scream into my pillow

Would it be enough if I could never give you peace?

Maybe Jack will never give her peace at least this is what we are left with if Hulu doesn't announce season 2 I will do something that will change the course of their lives forever but he has given her life. And this is where I stop before I drow in my own tears

[classic-maya]

why did Justin fall for Brian?

Ahhh, I love this question because I feel like it is more complicated than answering why Brian fell for Justin but I’ll give it my best shot.

After their first night together when Justin says he is in love with Brian I think he has a naive understanding of what love is at that point. He is infatuated with this handsome, confident, wealthy guy who took him home, let him join at the hospital during one of the biggest nights of his life, and then gently took his virginity. I really like that all the way in season 4 Justin says they made love that first night and when Brian disputes it he says "It was love to me." Even if it was infatuation, Justin is right, that night, that moment, that whole experience was love to him.

Despite not being able to remember his name, Brian made Justin feel like he was the center of his world that night and Justin had never experienced that before. I think it’s that initial spark that pushes Justin to be so resilient and keep seeking Brian out. I mean how do you get over a man who says "you can see me in your dreams." !!!

Later on I think Justin falls in love with what Brian represents. Brian is freedom incarnate; he will say anything, do anything etc. When the audience meets Justin he is entrenched in his rebellious teen phase. Don't forget that Justin is 17 running around all night. He is the kid who told his teacher to fuck off, told his mom that he likes dick, and in an absolutely iconic statement after his dad threatens to send him to military school to learn some discipline replies with "I know all about discipline and you should see me take it like a man."

In many ways, Brian is in the same place emotionally as Justin in season 1. He is chasing his youth. He is angry at the world, he likes being an outsider in society and he revels in it. He doesn't care about driving around in a vandalized car painted with the word “faggot." I mean for goodness sake Brian drove through a fucking car dealership because the seller said something mildly homophobic. Justin finds Brian's fuck you attitude ridiculously attractive. The persona of Brian no excuses, no apologies, no regrets Kinney is Justin's first love.

But over the course of the first season, Justin's understanding of love and his understanding of Brian both develop. Justin is suddenly dropped into this very adult world that is different from his WASPy upbringing with two parents who have fallen out of love with each other. Justin has adult friends for the first time and he gets to see how Melanie and Lindsay love each other. How Michael and Brian love each other and Ted and Emmett and how Debbie as the matriarch loves and cares for all of them. I think he comes to the mature idea that you don’t just fall in love with someone and everything is fine, you decide to love someone and then you hold on to that decision and make lot of little decisions in order to keep loving them.

In the first season while Brian struggles with himself and his love for Justin, he keeps hurting Justin in an effort to push him away. He tells him not to trust people, he flaunts his tricks in front of Justin, he is downright mean to him at times. I love this scene in 1x17 when Justin tells Brian “Being mean to me has never really worked, you should try another tactic.” He is telling Brian that he’s got his number and that can’t get rid of him that easily. He then says “I’m killing you with kindness.” From the start, I think Justin saw through Brian’s bluster and just dug down until he could see the scared boy behind the walls Brian built around himself.

I honestly don’t think anyone else in the show understood Brian as much as Justin. Justin notices all of the little ways that Brian sacrifices himself to help his friends and others. Brian has a reputation for being selfish, but Justin peels back the layers and sees how Brian uses that assumption as cover.

And while Justin does eventually lose his infatuation, he still loves Brian because he already made a decision to love him and to love him for the man he is and not for everything he represents to him. Brian is no longer a symbol to him but a human being with significant flaws and insecurities. This is where I see a massive difference between Michael’s love for Brian and Justin’s love for him. Michael idealized Brian but never got over his hero worshipping crush. Anytime Brian acted outside of how Michael expected him to he was overly upset and confused. While Brian obviously hurt Justin’s feelings sometimes and they misunderstood each other at inopportune moments, overall Justin was able to accept and love Brian as a person not a persona.

Another one of my favorite scenes is in 1x11 after Michael’s birthday party and everyone else abandons Brian but Justin just says “I guess you’re going to need someone to help you clean up this mess.” As an audience, it’s one of our first indications that Justin really gets Brian. Although everyone else thinks he is an asshole, Justin knows what his true intentions were. I also like the use of the word mess in this scene. He is not just talking about the party leftovers but everything. It is also a small little commitment. Justin isn't going anywhere, he is going to love Brian even when it’s messy and difficult.

Of course, if I'm arguing that Justin made an active decision to love Brian that begs the question why did he leave him in season 2? I don’t think Justin ever fell out of love with Brian. Even in the cheating era I don’t think either of them stopped loving each other. Justin was very hurt and he wanted to see what life was like with someone who was deliberate about showing and stating their love for him unlike Brian. Obviously, Justin shouldn’t have betrayed Brian by cheating but I don’t blame him for wanting something else, nor do I blame Brian for not being able to give Justin what he needed at that time. I think Justin was so shocked by Ethan’s betrayal again because he is a bit naive and did not realize that someone can say they love you 10 times a day but not mean it the way you want them to. On the other hand, although Brian couldn’t let himself say it he showed Justin in every way he knew how that he was important to him and he cared about him. Also, one more reminder that Brian NEVER broke their rules and I think Justin knew that and realized that was what he wanted way more than someone who spoke the right words but didn't follow through with real action.

TL;DR Justin fell in love with Brian over and over for so many different reasons. Because he was sensitive and gentle, because he made Justin feel important, because he represented Justin's anger, rebelliousness, and the freedom he desired, because he loved Justin unconditionally even when it was messy and difficult.

[the-fifth-rascal]

Their fangs behind the mask -

Chapter one

TW!: Implication of blood and experimentation

Cyno was a simple man. He was someone who was dead-set on all his goals and had his entire life set ahead of him. He knew exactly who he was, and he liked to keep it that way. He had one mission in life. He was the prosecutor of justice. The balance between good and evil. The bridge of the world between gods and mortals.

That may sound like a lot of missions, but he really only had one thing to do.

Punish the guilty for their sins.

And that, that was a difficult job.

But he had people who helped him. Who helped shape his vision on what justice truly meant. And he was indebted to them forever.

But he sometimes can't help but wonder, what would it have been like if he didn't have this…immense power. What were the standards that ever deemed him worthy of being the vessel of a god?

Why would it choose the man who he used to be, out of all the mortals in the universe?

Because the man he used to be, was weak.

Weak, naive, and pathetic.

But he got better. No, he was MADE better. He got 'improved'. Now he had the strength of a thousand men, the intellect that scaled fairly close to the IQ of all the greatest minds in the world, and enough power to destroy at least a decent amount of cities.

And maybe..one day…he could put all of that to use. To purge this corrupted world of all its sins to build a better one. Where everyone could live in peace and harmony. There wouldn't be any poverty, people were always kind and good, and the world thrived with every passing day. A world without greed, injustice, cruelty and wrath. But none of that would be possible, none of it. Without the instigator that was the Fatui.

The room that Cyno resided in was bare. The walls were painted a dull shade of gray, reflecting on the rest of the room to give it a solemn feel. But emotion to him was a weakness.

It was deemed by himself and others that emotions were nothing but a weakness. Something that was useless to him, something that wouldn’t help him fulfill his true purpose. And anything that couldn’t help fulfill his duties, was unnecessary and was only something that could hold him down.

Sometimes, however, he gets intrusive thoughts. That maybe, maybe he would never be enough to fulfill his gods true purpose. That it had been a mistake. That no matter how much he had been ‘improved’ on he will never be enough.

And that’s why they were intrusive.

Because those were the very thought that made him weak

He WILL be worthy for the power

No matter how painful the improvements are. No matter what he had to do. No matter the amount of blood that had to stain his hands. He will be worthy.

He had to be.

The energy in the atmosphere suddenly shifted into one of more tension. A bright beam of light scattered a beaming brightness. Cyno covered his eyes as they stung just the slightest, barely used to the light and instinctively stumbled back.

He could here murmurs of a few people with his tightly shut eyes. When he slowly opened them, he could see a few Fatui soldiers holding a boy tightly under their hold.

A boy. A boy of his own age. It was obvious by the subtle lines on his face, the youth in his eyes, the muscles on his body.

He was struggling against them, obviously trying to escape their grip. His teeth were clenched in anger and fear, his eyes blazing with fury as he kicked and punched. But the soldiers were merciless. They moved the gate of metal bars of the room next to Cyno’s and roughly shoved him in. The boy wiped of smears of blood off his face and growled deep under his breath, like a wolf .

“You assholes!” he swore, throwing himself at the barred door that was the only thing between himself and the soldiers. “Let me go! Let me out of here!”

They simply snickered, their murmurs along the lines of ‘wait until he gets a visit to the doctor’ ‘he ain’t gonna survive here fo’ a day.’