#anyway I love making stuff!!!! I love making stuff for my friends!!!!!!!!

[razrbladekiss]

CRAVE | Joel Miller

SUMMARY: there’s only one thing that joel craves, and it isn’t the mental fucking torture of an overly stubborn twenty-something teasing him ‘til he’s blue in the face. and balls.

PAIRING: dbf!joel miller x afab!reader. legal unspecified age gap.

WARNINGS: MINORS DNI, 18+ CONTENT BELOW THE CUT. alcohol consumption. pervy old man joel. reader’s dad (i’ve named him sorrrry) is there before joel gets pervy. some religious themes and also descriptions of religion in a negative light (this is MY experience with christianity, if you do not agree then please don’t read), no explicit smut but descriptions of what joel wants to do to youuuu so: mentions of piv, cock-riding, oral f!receiving, choking if you squint, dirty talk asf, joel being cocky which leads to his cock being sad and alone. reader is cunty. not proof-read ‘cus, once again, i’m a lazy bitch and i don’t have time for that. enjoy. 🫶🏻

An end to craving is an end to suffering.

Today’s last stream of sunlight fulgurates through the branches of your father’s prized Texas Ash, hitting perfectly the dime-sized crucifix situated comfortably between two pert tits sheathed in sheer black cotton.

Joel tries not to stare, but it’s impossible. He’s been watching you all fucking night. Every time you get up, he’s been glued to your ass. Whenever you lean over, Joel can’t seem to pry his eyes away from your cleavage. The more he’s been drinking, the more brazen he’s been with his stolen glances.

When your father rambles about some work-related spiel—and you’re sitting so innocently across the way—he can’t help affixing his eyes to the swell of your breasts. Wondering what it’d be like to touch, and grope, and suck on them.

Your mother was right about him. For all of the years that she knew Joel while your parents were together, she’d always say that he was trouble. A good-for-nothing, splenetic, perverted old-man who was but a bad influence. And you never noticed, never cared. You always thought that he was a great friend, and a stand-up guy.

Until today. Until you saw him scrutinizing your form—in front of your dad—you had a lot more respect for Joel. But now you realize that your mother was right. He is a perv. But—fuck—do you love that.

You’re not sure what you enjoy more—disrespecting your insane Catholic mother, or knowing that Joel is undressing you with his eyes—but you can’t help yourself feeding into his fantasy.

“Daddy?” Your father hums, not entirely bothered by the fact that you’ve just interrupted his conversation. He smiles. “Do you want another beer?”

“Please, hon.” He hands you his empty bottle, mumbling something about how he was going to get himself one and that you don’t need to. But you insist.

The blanket over your thighs is being discarded, hiking your dress up with it. Joel gets a glimpse of your lace panties that he likes to imagine you wore just for him, and shifts uncomfortably in his seat.

Bare, supple skin is on display as you get up from the deck chair. You turn to him with a prurient twinkle in your eye, and ask if he wants a drink too. “Yeah, another won’t hurt. I’m already pretty—“ he hiccups, “pretty far gone, anyway.”

Dad laughs while you saunter to the cooler and make a big show of bending over, completely unaware of the way Joel is trying to conjure up a plan to get you alone tonight. But then…

“Same ‘ere, bud.” He laughs before he’s nodding toward Joel. “Stay the night, if ‘ya wanna. I mean, you’re in no fit state to drive—none of us are—and I got a spare bedroom.”

His nose scrunches up, as if to decline, before you’re turning around with two unopened beers and a small bottle of wine. Your hand wraps around the neck almost romantically, leaving very little to his imagination.

“Yeah, you might as well stay, Miller.” You put down the beers on the table, still holding firmly the Merlot. “I’m stayin’. I got nowhere to be in the mornin’, and dad bought breakfast stuff.”

Two brown eyes are latched to each of yours, and you feel beads of perspiration roll through the valley of your breasts. Despite the evening cooling down, you’re stifling beneath his unyielding gaze.

“Alright, I’ll stay.” Joel concedes. He takes his can and cracks it open, lifting it up to cheers your father. “S’long as you’re makin’ me breakfast, Gary.”

Dad salutes and you smile, sinking into the purple cushion with a satisfied hum. You ogle Joel, biting fiercely the skin of your bottom lip. And it doesn’t go unnoticed.

Joel swigs his beer—letting your dad drunkenly ramble—and doesn’t take his eyes off of you. Wondering how he’s going to make you pay for torturing him like this.

But this hadn’t been your intention when Joel showed up to watch the Cowboys v Browns game this afternoon. In fact, him staying past nine o’clock was completely unintentional and if it weren’t for your dad pumping him full of Coors and Old Milwaukee, he’d be fast asleep at this very moment.

He supposes that he doesn’t mind, being here. Especially because he’s buzzed—still able to speak and think coherently, which is surprising—and gets to spend some rare time with you. Even if it is with your dad.

You watch them converse—the way that friends do—admiring how patient Joel is with him despite him being a little bit too inebriated for his own good. He’s the kind of friend that your old man needs; understanding, forbearing. And it baffles you that they’ve not known one another for longer than seven years, but surmise that they’d definitely be best friends in every other timeline because they just work so well.

But it’s the thought of them being friends—brothers—that urges feelings of unease. Trepidation. Gary’ll have a cow if he finds out the way that his so called buddy has been making googly eyes at his little girl’s titties for the last eight hours.

Joel senses the shift in attitude—you’re not teasing him now—and turns the topic of conversation to you. Dad doesn’t mind, though. Never minds talking to—or about—his kid.

“What made you stay in with us oldies tonight, huh?”

Wine is being swiveled around the glass before you take it back in one swig. A grimace flits over your features, but they both catch it.

“Didn’t feel like hittin’ the bars.” Candidly, you say. It’s refreshing. “Can’t be dealin’ with pervy old men tryna touch me.”

Less refreshing.

Joel’s blood runs cold, and you smirk. He swallows thickly the liquid acrimony bubbling from the chasms of his throat. He wants to screw that stupid grin off of your face—stuff his cock straight between those plush lips and throat fuck you ‘til you’re crying and gasping for air.

He just nods instead of saying anything.

“I’ll kill anyone that touches you.” Dad says, not sensing Joel’s sudden frigid state. “Seriously. ‘Specially if it’s an old fuckin’ degenerate asshole—“

“Alright, Gary.” You halt the hate train, pouring the last few dregs of wine into your glass. “No need to get all protective. No old coot is comin’ anywhere near me.”

You look directly at Joel when you say; “old men can’t do what guys my age can, anyway.”

Dad grimaces. Joel scoffs. You can’t help smiling, feeling very proud of yourself.

“Y’know, you’re still my kid? And hearing this shit is nasty.” Your father tells you around a burp, and realizes that this might be the time to call it a night.

He’s never been able to handle his alcohol, especially after being married to your psychotic beer-loathing, hymn-signing, prayer-group-leading, holier-than-though moronic fucking mother.

He lets himself get too drunk too fast, now. Ever since she went back to Kansas—which was totally code for I fucked the priest and got extradited from the church—he’s really let his hair down, and you’d be lying if you said this version of your old man wasn’t the very best. Because he’s living his life the way that he wants to, now.

It’s nice.

“It might be nasty, but ‘least you don’t have to worry about me bringing home a man your age. Or even worse; older.”

Gary gets to his feet—knees clicking and cracking as he does so—and nods. “‘Spose that’s true, kid.”

Joel. Is. So. Fucking. Pissed.

As you say your goodnights—and put on a few lights so that your dad doesn’t trip over his own feet—Joel is mentally counting down the minutes until he gets you alone on this damn patio. He’s determined to make you regret the few little comments that you’ve made tonight.

“Don’t stay up too late. Y’know how cranky ‘ya get with no sleep.” Dad reminds you. “You too, Miller.”

You hum your response, lifting your empty glass and indicating that you’ll be retiring to your room soon, too.

“Night dad.”

“Night, pumpkin.” He turns to Joel. “Make sure she ain’t up too late.”

He nods and shifts his gaze to you, eyes darkening. “Yessir. I’ll put her to sleep.”

Your father grunts and slides the patio door to close. Leaving his daughter and best friend alone together might be the biggest mistake that he’s ever going to make.

Joel watches him intently behind the glass door, heeding him stumble across the tile. He might be about to rearrange your guts, but he at least wants to be courteous.

Your legs squeeze together, for the only sound you hear is the reverberation of Joel’s I’ll put her to sleep in that sexy, beer-slick tone.

He sees it.

“She makin’ ‘ya squirm?”

You blink at him. “I beg your pardon?”

“Your pussy.” Joel—as candid as ever—elaborates. “Is she flutterin’ ‘cus ‘a me?”

The fallout of a chemical bomb would be much more appealing than having to look Joel in the eye after such a lewd statement.

“Don’t worry if so. I have that effect on the ladies.”

“Makin’ yourself sound like a slut, Miller.” Coolly, you respond. Your hand is reaching for a can of beer, twining fingertips around the base while another pulls the tab.

Two eyes screw shut when a spritz of alcohol is flushing over your face, neck and chest. Droplets of Bud trickle between those perfect tits that Joel’s eyes have almost burned fucking holes into; forcing even the horniest man on planet earth to render himself utterly speechless.

You trail a finger through the valley of your breasts, collecting the sticky liquid before you’re putting it straight into your mouth; sucking it clean. Your eyes are locked on Joel’s.

“What? Cat got your tongue?”

Slowly, he shakes his head. The sight before him is truly one to behold; his friend’s sweet daughter with her fingers between her tits out in the patio. Nobody’d ever believe him if he told them this. Joel probably wouldn’t even fucking believe himself.

“You’d like that, wouldn’t ’ya?” Is what he says in response. He’s quick witted, you’ll give him that. “My tongue stuck in your pretty little pussy—“

Heat flashes over you.

“You’re fucking vile.”

“Ain’t that the way it’s meant’a be?” He lurches forward, and your eyes travel to the small opening of his shirt’s midsection that highlights perfectly the fact that he hasn’t a base layer beneath the flannel.

You see a small patch of hair; brown, and gray and seems a little fuzzy. It’s a sudden reminder that this man is a smidge too old for you. But you can’t find it in yourself to care very much.

“Don’t think so.” Trying to out-douche him, you respond. Joel’s thick fingers are twined together, hands resting over the peaks of his knees. “Think youre meant’a have some kinda respect for me. Y’know, as my dad’s buddy, ‘n all.”

Joel snorts a laugh.

“I’d have respect for ‘ya, but the way that peachy fuckin’ ass was in the air when ‘ya bent over the cooler tells me that daddy’s ’lil girl is more of a slut than me.”

Your jaw rolls. Reaction: gauged.

He inches nearer to you; slimy grin plastered across rough, rugged features. “Only pullin’ your leg, hon. I know you’re no slut. Too much of a prissy bitch—“

“Oh, really?” Irked, you spit.

Joel nods. Pushing at your buttons has never been much of a difficult feat. It’s something that he quite enjoys, actually.

“Mhm, yeah.” The man is leaning backwards in his chair, now. Arms folded behind his head; hands pressed against his dark curls. “Gonna have to prove that you ain’t like your mama.”

Your blood boils. And then it runs cold.

“Don’t gotta prove shit to you.” You defend. Very defensively.

“No, that’s right. Don’t gotta do nothin’, kiddo.”

You see the outline of his dick as it stiffens within the confines of his dark, navy-denim jeans. He’s actually getting off on this.

“Unless you want to—“

“Nah, I’m good.” You’re leaning back, now, lifting your legs to sit criss cross applesauce. The barely-covering-your-crotch sheer fabric of your thong catches his eye; a glint of something wicked flickers through them as he clears his throat.

If you’re playing the long game, then so is he. He can out-stubborn anybody.

“So I’ve heard.” He jabs, insinuating that you’re a prude. Again. “Can prove ‘em all wrong, if ‘ya wanna.”

It’s killing him, this. It’s torture. But he’s strong. Ish.

You shake your head, reaching for your almost-empty can of beer. You’re taking another long pull, making a dramatic show of tilting your head back and puffing out your chest as you do so. His lips purse.

“I’m good.” You tell him again with a syrupy smile. “Rather we just talk. Y’know—be civilized, ‘n all.”

His arms are moving to the sides of his deck chair, now. Joel’s tongue runs along his bottom lip. He gives a quick bob of his head.

“Yeah, we can talk.” His eyes zone in on your pussy; the engorged wet patch situated on the part of fabric that kind-of clothes your cunt. His mouth waters. “But what’ll we talk about, baby girl?”

Another surge of pleasure oozes out from between your thighs, turning what was once a purple thong into a jet-black one. Joel doesn’t mind, though. The sight is sweet; it’s prurient, in some sick way.

“Hm.” You pretend to think, all the while spreading your legs a little bit more. He sees perfectly the outline of your folds as fabric hugs and highlights the inner workings of your beautiful anatomy. “Why don’t we start with what you’re thinkin’ about, Mr. Miller?”

A weakness of his, that is. You referring to him as Mr. Miller has always gotten him hot. It’s innocent, almost. It’s like that’d been engrained into your brain by the god-fearing fruit-loop that brought you up, and you can’t quit saying it in these situations.

“Oh, doll. Not sure you’ll wanna hear what I’m thinkin’ of.” His tone is rough, now. Like 180 grit sandpaper against the wooden walls inside of your fucking brain. You hum.

Mentally, Joel’s cock is spearing open the tight hole between your legs; making you scream his name. He’s thrusting his prick up into your cervix while you ride him like he’s the last cowboy on earth, desperate to feel a kind of pleasure that no man your age could ever bestow upon you.

In his head, he’s picturing your crucifix dangling in his face while you’re pleasuring yourself on his length; glistening with sweat, and cum, and Sierra Nevada. Howling at his girth, speechless at the size of him.

He wants nothing more than to wrap a hand around the base of your throat and fuck you into next week; feeling damp walls contract and seize around his cock—

“No.” You snap him back to reality; halting his train of thought. “No, you can tell me. I’m a big girl, I can take it.”

Oh, I’m fuckin’ sure she can.

“Fine.” He clears his throat. “Just thinkin’ of stufin’ that warm ‘lil cunt with my big ‘ol cock, ‘s’all.”

“Oh, is that all?” Your tone is teasing.

Joel does not like to be teased.

“If you’d shut your fuckin’ mouth, I’d be able to finish.”

In a moment of pure, unapologetic submission, you nod. The skin of your bottom lip is getting fucking gnawed at by your teeth in an attempt to conceal a moan.

It works. Kind of.

“What was I sayin’…” He strives to recall his last few words; and then he remembers. “Oh, yeah. Stretchin’ out that cute pussy ‘a yours.”

That cute pussy ‘a yours, is twitching. Fuck that, it’s pulsating.

“And you’re so sure of that? You being able to stretch me out, I mean.”

“Dead sure, angel face.” He quips. “I know for a damn fact that you’d be havin’ trouble takin’ my fat cock all in one go; be cryin’ for everyone to hear.”

Through long, thick lashes, you stare at him.

“You’d be seein’ stars; and not just the ones above us right now.”

You look up to the sky and hope to alleviate some of the mental pain being bestowed upon you right now. Which is entirely your own doing, of course.

Joel shifts in his seat so that he’s a little bit more sunken, able to heed clearly the sickly sweetness blanketing the chair you’re on.

“I’ll eat your pussy, too.”

Your attention is snapped back down to Joel, now. Your brows raise.

“Suck your soul right out from between your legs.”

“Oh, Joel.” You moan, a little. He lets his eyes shut for a brief moment, only to open them again to find you taking off your panties.

It’s like Christmas fucking day, this.

“I’d love for you to take me right here; fill me up on one ‘a the sunloungers.” You’re getting off your chair, and Joel’s heart is starting to pound within the chasms of his chest.

Thump. Thump. Thump.

You’re walking toward him; thong in hand. Fingers wreathed through soaked purple cotton.

“Can’t think of anything that’ll bring me more pleasure than you fuckin’ me ‘til I’m crying. Or gasping for air.”

“You ‘n me both, beautiful.”

You smile. You give Joel your underwear, before you’re running your fingers through his hair and he’s letting a hand glide up the meat of your thigh and beneath your skirt.

“Just a shame, ain’t it.”

“What’s a shame, sugar?”

The feeling of his fingertips—calloused and covered in rough skin—is almost orgasmic. But you’re stronger than what he is. So you pull yourself away from his hold, and begin to feel an unwavering sense of need. You shirk it, though.

You’re leaning into him now, breasts pressed against his shoulder, lips touching the shell of his ear. Goosebumps prickle over his neck and you assume that they’re making their way down south, too.

“Huh?” He says to get your attention, for you still haven’t answered. “What’s a shame?”

Fingertips trace over broad shoulders enveloped in soft, warm flannel. You’re leaning closer; hot breath on his skin. Your lips part to whisper:

“If daddy ever found out about this, he’d kill ‘ya.”

“Baby—“

You’re taking the panties from his hand, and tucking them into the breast pocket of his shirt. Fighting a blush—feeling very proud of yourself—your face remains straight.

You tap at his chest and walk away, but not before throwing a “night, Miller” over your shoulder.

Joel looks down at the ground, presently wallowing in some sort of self-pity. But then remembers the visible effect that his words had—and the way he looked at—you, and he can’t fight the stupid fucking grin pushing its way onto his face.

He might’ve just experienced blue-balls at his big age, but to see you submit to his gaze was absolutely worth it.

He just hopes you’ll never tell a soul about his dirty-talk. He has a reputation to uphold, these days.

[pomefioredove]

@hxney-lemcn said more cater fics and I am here 2 deliver ✌️✌️

*ੈ✩‧₊˚ friends kiss, too

type of post: short fic characters: cater additional info: romantic, reader is gender neutral, reader is yuu, friends 2 lovers ON TOP! a little making out

Every time Cater drags you through one of these things, you ask yourself why you let him, and every time, the answer is the same: he's your best friend, and you love him.

It's the very same reason you let him spam you with texts and annoy you with surprise selfies. It's the reason you rarely hang out with anyone else, because you know it makes him jealous, though he'd never admit that.

It's the reason you're here, now, awake in your room well past curfew.

Despite the threat of a Housewarden who would flay you alive if he caught you and Cater sneaking around in the dead hours of the night, your bestie was absolutely insistent on this all-nighter.

It's a trend on Magicam, he said, and he had, of course, pouted and whined like a sad puppy until you agreed to "support him" by keeping him awake.

By two in the morning, you were more bored than tired.

"Pass. Pass," Cater says, swiping through dating profiles on his phone. "Hm... no, pass."

You sigh and slump against the headboard of your bed. "You've said that word so many times, it doesn't sound real anymore,"

"Ughhhh. Is Sage's Island where hotties go to die? I just want a cute holiday romance!" he exclaims. "Think of the pics!"

You roll your eyes. You'd heard that exact string of words probably ten times in the past few days.

"You can't date someone just for couple photo ops,"

Cater pouts. "Oh, yes I can. I specify "nothing serious" on my profile! It's not like I'm lying!"

Another eye-roll. He's technically right, as always, which just makes you even more annoyed.

But you don't want to get into an argument about the morality of flings right now.

"And it's cold out. Who am I gonna hold when it gets even colder? It's cuffing season, hon,"

Something about the way he says that bothers you. You try not to think about it so much.

"Well, you'll always have me," you tease.

Cater giggles, and sets his phone down on the bed, a subtle way of showing you that you have his full attention now. "Oh? What's this? Sounds like you're offering,"

"Not what I meant," you counter. "I'm your bestie, not your bae."

"Boooo. What are you, a nun? Friends cuddle all the time,"

Again, he's right. He likes being right, and you can see that on him now, too. He has that competitive glow on his face.

You smile. "Sure, sure, but we all know that cuddling isn't what you're looking for,"

Cater gasps, feigning offense with a hand placed delicately over his heart. "I am not that easy! I'm starting to think you really do want me all to yourself,"

If anything, it's the other way around. Since befriending him at the start of the school year, you'd always had the feeling that he took up all your time on purpose. But you don't say that.

"Besides," he goes on. "There are a lot of things that besties can do that are perfectly friend-like. The segregation of romantic and platonic is a totally oppressive amatonormative structure, anyway."

You roll your eyes. "You have got to stop reading those infographics. Do you even know what any of those words mean?"

"Not the point! I'm saying that there's lots of cute stuff we can do while remaining besties,"

He's very enthusiastic about this. You can't tell if it's his penchant for being right, or something more.

"Pfft. Okay. So, what, friends can kiss?"

"Obviously," Cater crosses his arms over his chest, giving you that smug look of his. "Friends kiss, too."

"Then prove it,"

The words that had you had been holding in the back of your mouth for the past few minutes escape before your brain can stop them.

Even Cater, who's never surprised, pales a little.

Your mouth opens, then closes, then opens, again without your thoughts offering any support.

"I didn't mean-"

"Okay,"

You blink. Something hot and cold at the same time runs through your body- adrenaline, anxiety, maybe it's just your own blood heating up at the way Cater leans closer, cupping your face in his hand, his fingers curled under your jaw and thumb gently brushing against your cheek.

His hands are kinda sweaty. You don't really mind, and even if you did, it wouldn't have mattered, because his lips are now sweetly pressing against yours.

You fit together quite nicely. As if he was just meant to kiss you.

It's hard not to think about everything all at once; his warm hand moving to cup your chin and hold you close to him, his hair brushing against your face, the way his lips still linger with spice from whatever he'd eaten earlier...

It's not perfect. But it's him, which is close enough.

Cater pulls away, his breath dancing across your lips, but he gives you no time to recover before he's closer, kissing you again with a sort of heat that matched the taste of his mouth.

He holds your face in both hands, shamelessly pinning you against the headboard and sitting in your lap as if he belonged there, always.

Minutes go by. Maybe hours. You wouldn't have noticed, or cared, either way. When you finally part from one another, it's felt like years.

You feel like an entirely different person. As if the world had ended and begun again in the six minutes you had been kissing him.

Cater sits atop your thighs, panting, his face redder than his Housewarden's hair, that of which would have flayed you both if he were to catch you like this.

Luckily, it's just the two of you.

"See?" Cater finally mumbles, dismounting you and scooting back to where he left his phone. "Platonic."

You're too breathless to argue.

You suppose you'll let him be right again.

[cautionwetfloor-png]

not to step where i dont belong but why do i see shippers and saiki aroace truthers beefing all the time ... guys :( .. guys PLEASE .. WE CAN HAVE BOTH. I WANTS BOTH CAKES.

[queer-brainrot]

ok so here's the thing about jercy. they're like an onion, they have layers

they are totally boyfriends that call each other dude and bro all the fucking time, they tease each other and joke around, they get into dumb competitions with each other and their banter is top notch

but they're also. all over each other. and not like in a making out in front of everyone kind of way but like you can't tell me jason isn't touch-starved and i just know that his sweet, empathetic, emotionally intelligent percy is going to pick up on that. so Percy is always touching Jason, an arm over his shoulder or resting his hand on the small of his back or holding hands while they patrol with their swords in their dominant hands. jason probably doesn't realize how badly he needs it until he gets it and then he doesn't know how to ask for it but percy delivers anyways. eventually jason works his way up to using his words and even initiating the contact he craves all by himself

bottom line they are soft for each other, as leaders of their camps it's hard for them to let their guard down but with each other they can because they know the other just gets it and they feel safe. you don't think jason absolutely breaks down crying on percy's chest after meeting sally and comparing it to his own mother, while percy holds him through it and reassures him that sally is his family too? you don't think jason will stay up all night holding percy when the nightmares get to be too much? i think these two are able to open up much more to each other than anyone else. they're both the big spoon, they're both the little spoon, they each need it sometimes ok

but just because they're soft and in love does not mean they don't go hard on each other in training, they fight in the arena without holding back. they're still super competitive with one another whether it's sword fighting, demigod abilities, or dumb stuff (including but not limited to flirting and making the other blush). they know the other can take it

but oh my gods if one of them gets hurt? they are so fucking protective. between percy 'loyalty is my fatal flaw' jackson and jason 'raised by wolves' grace they would do anything, go absolutely feral, to keep the the other safe from any threat, real or perceived, because they're so precious to one another. these traits probably also lead into some possessiveness but like they're into it and i promise it's not in a toxic way it's just very low-key they know they don't like "own" each other alright

so like yeah they can be pushing each other around bro-ing out almost looking like they're just friends, or you can question how they can look ready to kill each other when they spar, but you gotta look for the subtle things. look in their eyes, they can't keep the absolute love and adoration out of their eyes. and remember, as touchy as they are when they're relaxing around camp, you will never see what they're like when it's just themselves (hint it's a complete mashup of bro shit and soft love and passion), and if you try getting too close to either boyfriend they will both instantly shut you down

[violenteconomics]

so it’s pretty popular in this fandom for the overblotters to have a support group going on, and that’s all well and good and we’ve got a lot of amazing stuff out of it (shameless segue into compelling you to read the “girls in wonderland” series by the lovely jxnebug on ao3, please, it’s awesome), but can you just. like. imagine for a second that everybody else has a support group too, because goodness gracious, do the people who have to witness the overblots need so much therapy.

like. i imagine that it starts off with the first-years and their weekly ramshackle hangouts, and then they all start venting to each other about all the trauma they’ve gone through in the past year, which, thanks to yuu, becomes an unofficial, very unqualified support group.

ace: hey. i’m ace trappola. during my first week at night raven college i had to wear a collar around my neck at all times and didn’t even get to sleep in my dorm, which is probably for the best, because i couldn’t really sleep with that stupid collar anyway. i slaved away making a chestnut tart to apologize to my housewarden with, only to have my apology literally thrown into the trash. and when my best friend tried to stick up for me, they got called stupid and undereducated. and my other upperclassmen just enabled him. i almost got killed twice in that week, and many more times afterwards.

deuce: hello, i’m deuce spade. and i promised myself that i would become the best person i could be for my mom, only to fall short of my own expectations every single time, except for when i literally sign my soul away. i had such high hopes for my housewarden and upperclassmen to guide me to a better future, only to come to the realization that they’re even more flawed than i am. so, basically, there is nobody who can help me now, and i’m doomed to the path i made with my own hands.

jack: this is so unnecessary. jack howl. basically what deuce said, but combine that with the fact that, when you first met, your upperclassmen didn’t have any problems with getting rid of you if it meant their path to victory was assured. your dormmates will never admit that they’re wrong and sooner rip your ear out than say they like you to your face. but you care a lot about them, and deep down, maybe they care a lot about you, too. but the only thing they can do that would prove that in your eyes is improve themselves. become better. be the people you thought they were when you got here. and that is the one thing they will never do.

epel: howdy. my name is epel felmier. my housewarden is all about personal improvement. he’s right to think that i need to rework my thinking about gender and strength, because they are not equal in any way. other than that, though, he has no investment in me as a person. i’m not allowed to eat whatever i want. if he tells me to perform, that’s what i do. if i slip up even a little, he scolds me for being lazy. my posture must be perfect, my diction clear, and my hair flawless. he puts the same pressure on himself to be perfect, so it’s not like he’s a hypocrite. but that’s the thing, isn’t it? he likes me for the things i do — and he hates the person i am.

ortho: hello, world. my name is ortho shroud. not the real one, though. i’m just a poor simulacrum of him that my big brother forged from the flames of his grief and the metal of his self-loathing. but even though idia put his soul into constructing me, i can never truly be the person he wants me to be. my only purpose, and i can’t even do it correctly. for almost my entire life up to this point, idia loved his dead brother more than he loved me, and i just had to be okay with that, because the nature of the STYX organization mean that i didn’t have anybody else. and the one time i tried to change that, i corrupted my brother and almost ended the world.

sebek: greetings. i am sebek zigvolt. i nearly perished recently. the prince that i admired so dearly tried to put everybody to sleep, and in trying to stop him, i very nearly lost a dear friend of mine to the secrets hidden inside his father’s brain. the whole time, i felt distinctly out of place. it was like i was watching one of those soap operas master lilia loves so much. only ever looking. never touching. right before me was a broken family that i only wanted to see come back together, but i couldn’t fix it. for it was not my family to fix. i was helpless. useless. but that is nothing new.

yuu: …hi. i’m yuu. i was ripped out of my home and isekai’d into this world that’s filled with mentally unstable magic people who tried to kill me more than a couple times. i am currently living paycheck-to-paycheck while going to school full-time thanks to a crow who doesn’t know how to adult. and clearly, we all have a lot of work to do.

this goes on for a couple of weeks with just them, but then sebek decides to invite silver, because he’s prolly not doing so hot post-book 7 (and also, silver is basically the freshmen’s official big brother at this point, let’s be real) and then silver invites kalim a few weeks later, who invites ruggie, and then it just sort of snowballs out of control from there.

[totallynotobsessedwithfandoms]

I saw Wicked Part 1 and I—

Just the Broadway tour of Wicked was the first touring cast of a musical I had seen that wasn’t a Disney Broadway show. My mom and I drove four hours to stay in the city it was performing in. That musical was truly what launched me into my obsession with musicals that lasts to this day.

I went into seeing the movie with astonishingly low hopes, especially after my personal annoyances with Mean Girls earlier this year (what on earth did they do to Stupid with Love my babyyyy 😭). But holy shit.

Just…holy shit.

It floored my expectations. Sure, there were a couple things I didn’t love, but that’s all personal preferences and stuff, the movie was phenomenal and I am absolutely flabbergasted.

And like…how did they make it gayer???

My mom said she didn’t see any gay subtext and I was over here staring at the movie screen like—

ITS NO LONGER SUBTEXT WTF

Anyway.

Good job.

Closeted femme lesbian Galinda, bisexual Elphaba, pansexual Fiyero my beloveds.

Personally I think Elphaba and Fiyero shouldn't have been a ship but instead best friends teaming up to solve injustice but hey.

It’s still a phenomenal musical and an apparently good movie????

Flabbergasted.

Absolutely flabbergasted.

[gamenburger]

People think i'm joking about me wanting you to print out the zine and sell it to your local shop for cost and some money in ur pocket.

i'm not joking

Seriously. I hate money. I have enough of it. I'd like more of it to be comfortable, but i'm doing fine. the real thing is I don't want to think about compensation for my art and writing. It makes me feel weird! Print it out and sell it! ONLY THING I ASK: don't let them sell it for more than 5 dollars. It feels weird to me to sell a review of an indie game for more than the cost of the indie game itself! But that's just me.

Isn't it kinda weird to make money on a stone if I didn't make it?

It's a football! You chiseled it! No seriously. You printed it. You cut it and stapled it so it looks nice! Congrats, you've done the magic labor dance that hopefully makes you feel less gross about making money on it. You shouldn't feel gross though! Im telling you to do this? It's more than okay!

Is it hard to get it printed and sold for cheap?

If you do the B&W version you could get it printed for less than a dollar from a shop, which honestly: you might as well do it yourself at the library for cheaper since I imagine you don't want bulk! I would love nothing more than for you to sell this zine for a dollar. More zines should be a dollar?

What are you getting out of this? Why do this?

Money doesn't make me happy (although it does help prevent calamity from things that *can* make me unhappy), its people reading and seeing my work that makes me happy. About 500 people have read this zine! Thats already so crazy to me! I would love nothing more if people picked this up and got hungry for more games discussion in the zine world. It's shockingly not as full of a niche as i thought it would be! Also. My stuff in stores just like. straight up benefits me! My name is prominently on the front and back of it! The download page for it has a donation option! I'm not starving here. Print that shit out, make yourself some money, and buy a coffee on me. You're not going to become a gazillionaire selling zines. I think. Would be funny if you did tho! What about tabling with this zine?

YES! Nervous about tabling because you don't feel like you have enough? Well print my zine out and now you have stuff that costs u pennies to make your table look fuller! Just lie and say I'm your friend or something! In a way, i suppose i am in ghostly meaning of the word. Only thing i ask is don't try to aggressively trade using my zine because like. Idk! It feels weird. That's just me though. I'm not your dad, a cop, or both.

ANYWAYS. I write this out because i think zine distribution should be that: distribution. Get that shit out and get it cheap! Words for the people! This is my long way of saying get out of your head and have some fun printing and cutting and learning how to do that. I will be making more stuff free to distribute, and and i would love to see other people do that if able!

Alright. It's here.

REVIEW OF THE KILLER is a (mainly spoiler free) zine review featuring commentary, analysis, comics, and various evil activities. It released on my itch.io page and will be free for anyone to download, as well as a convenient reader embedded in the page itself. It is releasing alongside the steam version of Anthology Of The Killer by @myfriendpokey.

It is available to print in both a4 and letterhead format, in color and B&W. All of these will be available in 600 or 300 PPI (as disgustingly high as Itch will allow) as well as regular old, web and storage friendly formats. I recommend vibrant pink and canary paper for greyscale copies. It is free to distribute as you please.

If you have liked any of the art I've done so far, please share this anywhere and everywhere you feel charitable to do so.

I hope you enjoy. I am always hoping you enjoy.

[hannahssimblr]

We surface eventually, and clamber down the back stairs and out into sharp morning light, squinting against the sun. I feel like a vampire. My friends’ faces are gaunt and drawn, eyes still black. They look like they’ve been dead for a week. 

Except Jen, sober Jen, who smiles sleepily and stretches her arms, breath condensing in the cold air. “God, that was mad,” she says. “What time is it?”

“Eight,” I say. Being out in the daylight like this is always weird, with families walking around, people going to work, while we are like creatures who have dug our way out of the earth, lurching toward home amongst the living. My mouth is so dry, and my jaw hurts. I foresee an afternoon spent throwing up, head in the toilet bowl, groaning as Jonas hammers on the door, appealing to my sense of humanity by reminding me there’s only one bathroom in the apartment.   

“Oh, well, I should probably pack my bags and stuff.” Jen says.

I rub my eyes. “Oh, your flight.”

“Oh, Jen,” Dalia says with a big sad face, “I wish you could stay,” they hug, and rock each other side to side. “Please, come back and visit. This was so fun.”

“I swear!” Jen says. “I love you guys. Come see me in Dublin!”

“Don’t make them go there,” I say, to which she laughs. “Actually, yeah. Never mind. I’ll come back here! And for longer!”

“Please!” Elias and Dalia cry in unison, and then we leave, trudging toward the train station. 

She snoozes on my shoulder on the U-Bahn, while Jonas and I, wired, wide awake, stare at our reflections in the window all the way back to Kreutzberg. 

I lie on my bed, eyes on the cracks on the ceiling, while Jen shoves things into her suitcase. She’s cleaned off all her makeup, leaving black smudged wiped crumpled on the surrounding floor. 

“This was so fun,” she’s saying. “I had such a good time. I mean, last night was amazing. Did you see I kissed that girl with the fan?”

“The fan?”

“Yeah, she was carrying this weird, lacy fan. Anyway, she was dead pretty. I wish I’d gotten her number.”

“Why didn’t you?”

“I tried, but she didn’t speak English. There was no point.”

“So you didn’t speak before you starting kissing her.”

“No, we didn’t need to. I just met her eyes across the dancefloor and we both knew.”

“Ah, nice.”

The mattress shifts under her weight, and her face slides into my vision, pink cheeked, with eyeliner still smudged in the spaces between her lashes. “You’re coming down.”

“Yep.”

“Poor Judie. Rough day ahead.”

“Honestly, it’ll probably be a few days. A week, even.”

“Oof. Do you do this a lot?”

“Too much, probably.”

“Oh well,” she plonks back down to the rug and continues shoving things into her case. “At least I know you’re having fun over here. I’d be worried you’re suffering.”

“Do you worry about that?”

“Kind of.”

I laugh gently. “No, Jenny. I’m not suffering. Things are good.”

She struggles with the zip, and it rasps lowly against the bulk. “I was worried I wouldn’t like your friends, you know. I’m glad I met them, because they’re amazing.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah. I wish they were my friends. Jonas is adorable. Elias too, so fun, and Dalia is probably the coolest girl I ever met in my life. I never got to ask her what part of America she comes from.”

“Pittsburgh.”

“I dunno where that is.”

“Nowhere close to where I grew up.”

“You sound different when you talk to her.”

Turning my head is an effort, and the room lurches a little. Later, I’ll probably be so dizzy that standing up feels like getting off the waltzers. “How so?”

“Your accent gets more American. Did you know that?”

“No.”

“Well, it does. I suppose when you’re talking to someone from the states you kind of copy what they’re doing, or something. It’s just funny, because you weren’t like that at home.”

“With dad?”

“Yeah.”

“Well, it’s not like I really talk to him, is it?”

She pauses thoughtfully. “Well, I’ve heard you say ‘okay’ to him a few times.”

“Hm,” I say. “Well, maybe I’ll lose my Irish accent while I’m here.”

“Would you like to?”

I shrug. “Sure.”

I shut my eyes in the hopes it will stave off the wave of dizziness that comes over me. My temples throb gently with the onset of a headache. I half listen as Jen goes on about how great my friends are, Jonas, Elias, Dalia. Perhaps she’s hoping I won’t notice who she has left out, but she is wrong. 

“What did you think of Astrid?” I say, and she pauses, just for a beat, before answering with enormous enthusiasm. 

“Oh, she’s gorgeous. You were right. Even better in person than in the pictures.”

“Yeah.” I roll on my side. “She’s incredible looking, I know, but… like, did you like her?”

“Of course I did.”

“Yeah?”

“She’s so nice.”

I hesitate. Astrid isn’t that nice. At least it’s not a word I would use to describe her ahead of something like intelligent, confident, shrewd. Out of all the traits she has that I admire, I couldn’t say her niceness is something that sticks out. It’s not important to me, and I require it from her. Nice isn’t untrue, exactly, but it's not a real answer.

“Your opinion is really important to me,” I say, and she busies herself in her backpack, double checking for her phone charger and passport. 

“No, I mean it,” she says distractedly. “She seems to care a lot about you, and that’s the main thing, you know what I mean?”

On my elbow now, I look at her, pulling things out of her bag and shoving them back in, and my anxiety rises. I wanted our dinner to go a little better, sure, and they could have hit it off more than they did, but Astrid is Astrid. She’s a tough nut to crack at the first meeting. It takes a while for her to warm up, to get comfortable. She takes some getting used to. 

“I know things were a bit awkward there, when we were talking about school, and she didn’t have anything to say and all that.”

She waves this off. ‘No, it’s fine. She didn’t have to say anything. I was more worried about whether we were annoying her by talking about it so much.”

“I doubt it.”

“It’s alright, like, she doesn’t need to have the same humour as me.”

I frown. “Well, you and I have the same humour. In fact, we’re so alike that I thought you’d get along with her.”

“We got along.”

“But you weren’t bowled over.”

She sighs, “Jude, don’t make me talk myself into an awkward position.”

“I’m not doing that. I’m just wondering what you thought.”

“Yeah, but it’s like you’re not accepting my answer.”

“You haven’t answered.”

“I have. I said she’s nice.”

“Yeah, but like, ‘nice’ is a non-answer.”

“She’s not what I expected, right? But there’s nothing wrong with that. I just always thought you’d prefer to go out with a girl that laughed at the same things as you, or was silly and goofy, or, I don’t know, less… severe. I’ll meet Astrid again, and I’m sure I’ll be bowled over. We just didn’t have a lot of time to get to know each other. It was only a few hours, and, I dunno, Jonas was there too, and I was talking to him, mostly.”

“I–” I decide to ignore the first part about the girls I supposedly like. “Well, I hope so. I’d be pretty sad if my girlfriend and my best friend didn’t get along.”

“Everyone is friendly here.”

“Right.”

“I can tell you don’t believe me.”

I sigh reluctantly, and fall back onto the bed. My headache makes my brain slosh against the inside of my skull. “Jenny, I do. I believe you,” I say. “And I’m glad you like her. It’d be really fucking shit for me if you didn’t.”

“Well, I do.”

“I’m glad.”

“Good.”

Beginning // Prev // Next

[theautismcorner]

I have bothered my friends about this enough so now I'm posting my ramblings to tumblr so i don't annoy anyone. This is primarily about being disabled.

I love Viktor so much. I love seeing disability rep in media, especially the way they talk about Viktor within arcane. I will phrase this in the most vague way I can - at the end of season two when Jayce talks to Viktor about it I wanted to implode. I would kill for someone to say that to me. I relate to him on an insane level. Starting off with something i find amusing and unrelated to disability - my eyes are actually fairly similar in color to his. One of my friends called them dark honey one time which i think is really cute. Now onto the disability part - I am physically disabled (I have hypermobile ehlers danlos syndrome) and often walk with a limp due to pain and have to use braces a lot. While I am dealing with my flare ups reading fics from Viktors pov is really therapeutic because they make me feel like I am not alone in my pain. They help to distract me from the pain too. Something within the fics--the ones that have his pain as a central element--that i love is how much the other characters (namely jayce) care about him and just see him. People who aren't disabled probably don't know how hard it is to ask for the help you need it during flares for fear of being a burden or being weak. When people just offer help, even with small things like getting a blanket or making a cup of tea, it truly means the world. I have been in a flare for three days and have been virtually on my own with it because I don't live with people i like much or even care to know that well and cant really physically leave once the flare is active. I have been living off of crackers, cheese, and cereal because I cant make myself food which sucks. I am lucky i had put my mini fridge next to my bed so i don't have to walk to get ice packs or cheese. I just read Viktor fics (jayvik to be more specific because season two is ouchy) and listen to the same song on loop for hours (the song is Fantastic - Cait and Vis song) just wishing I had someone to care for me like what I am reading. I read one where Jayce makes Viktor his favorite soup and brings it to him and that's exactly what i wish I had right now. I love living vicariously through the fics but god would it be nice to have this stuff irl. Anyways, my legs feel like they are being pulled apart, one muscle/tendon/bone at a time, so I am going to keep reading fics until I have to hobble to a friendsgiving. If y'all have any fic recs please let me know.

[cuntdestroyer3000]

Acotar rant

Spoilers

Toxic Nesta fans on tik tok are fr the most annoying people in the world omg. It’s at the point where idec abt nesta but her fans?? Some of yall suck lmao.

Like holding nesta accountable for how awful she treated her sister isnt saying she’s terrible. The whole point of her journey in her book is not only self love but taking accountability. Nesta hated herself but didn’t know how the change. The book is her GROWTH. Like I’m so annoyed w ppl victimizing her sm. Like yes she shouldn’t be hating herself but that also doesn’t mean she’s a perfect angel who never did anything wrong.

These people like nesta hate on feyre?? Which is ridiculous. A lot of the time I felt like feyre was TOO nice if anything. Bitches on tik tok were putting Rhys in the same level as KING HYBERN. Which is ridiculous.

Ppl were saying feyre mistreated nesta like?? By putting her in the house of wind?? Where later nesta understood that feyre was trying to help her?? Oh yeah the same house of wind that nesta became friends with, made three best friends, stopped drinking, got in shape and finally started to heal? Yeah ok.

Ppl being like oh poor nesta everyone was mean to her like…those were people she was mean to.

She was a huge bitch to feyre in the first book FIRST OF ALL. And then feyre kept her alive and fought for her. When I brought this up they were all like “feyre wouldn’t be alive if it weren’t for nesta” like wow it’s almost like it’s supposed to be a full circle moment where nesta realizes she was unfair to feyre. SHE LITERALLY SAYS SHE LOVES HER. Like yall are fr stupid. Nesta would not like you. She literally felt bad bc she was a bitch to feyre. And then when I said that they were like “Nesta had low self worth so she felt bad for every thing wah wah” like ok yeah but also the remorse for her treatment of feyre was warranted. Like I’m not saying she should be feeling like a piece of shit and beating herself up but like …u were a bitch to ur sister who kept you alive.

Period

Also about how feyre would be dead w out nesta, nesta wouldn’t have been able to save feyre if feyre hadn’t saved her first in the FIRST BOOK. Acosf ends with the sisters moving forward and beginning to fix their relationship so idk why you’re still hating on feyre. If you can suck nestas dick even tho she was a bitch to feyre you can forgive feyre for stuff she did in Acosf that pissed u off.

Also someone was like “she didn’t mistreat feyre feyre was mean to her first.” WHEN??

W H E N

No literally when bc the minute the book starts nesta is a huge bitch and calls her a half wild beast so don’t evennnnnn.

Anyway bitches on tik tok have me PISSED OFF and i don’t wanna respond to their bitchy asses anymore so I need to just vent my anger on here.

People who hate on feyre are so annoying like how did you read the first FOUR books if you hate her sm?? Like ur literally making this not fun lmaooo let me like feyre. I’m not mad at u for liking nesta. I’m mad at u for being stupid

[morally-earl-gray]

its ✨crisis time✨

sooo.... im aroace.

ive kinda known for a long time but i was in denial about it until recently (my internal thoughts are... complicated)

anyways, i want to come out to somebody, but im not sure who. i have a few options so im making a pro/con list (something i do a lot when making important decisions). yes, this is very personal but i need an outside opinion.

Option 1: lets call her Estelle (not her real name)

Pros:

younger sister

im really close to her (we tell each other almost everything)

bisexual, and i was one of the first people she told

already suspects that im aroace

Cons:

shes really pushy

shes gonna be weird about it and ask too many questions

she hasnt been as honest with me as she used to be, so im a little hesitant to open up to her

Option 2: Poppy (again, not her real name)

Pros:

shes my twin sister

we're really close

if i tell her, shes finally gonna stop asking me why i dont get crushes (and stop calling me a liar)

shes pretty understanding

she probably wont ask too many questions

she tells me everything about her life

i know she probably wont tell anyone

Cons:

shes straight (and doesnt know our other sister is bi) so she could be weird about it?

i might need to explain it to her bc shes less educated

Option 3: Clara

Pros:

lesbian, so she'll definetly understand

already knows what aroace means

we've been friend since kindergarten and we text a lot

Cons:

i know for a fact that she's not completely honest with me about her life

i dont know her as well as i thought i did :,(

basically idk... it would be kinda hard for me to be super honest with her, and i would feel weird about it

Option 4: put a PSA on my extended family group chat and then completely disappear (lock myself in my room) for like a week

Pros:

they'll all finally know

theyll stop calling me a liar when i say i dont have any crushes

i can stop feeling like im hiding something when im around them

i gotta come out sooner or later, right?

rip the band-aid off

if i come out first, my sister will probably feel more comfortable when she decides to come out

Cons:

theyre REALLY homophobic

they have extremely... old-fashioned views on stuff like families and gender roles etc

they definetly wont understand

theyll probably call me a heartless robot or smth

i'll probably end up as an outsider in my own family

they're gonna be super awkward around me

long story short: every bad thing that you could say to an aroace... thats what theyd say to me

So... if anyone has advice, i would love to hear it. this is literally eating me up inside, i really want to talk to someone but i dont know who. also (and this is a weird request) my dms are always open, if anyone's out there and wants to chat, please message me and we can work through our crisises together

[jujus-bizarre-blog]

SOC and CK allegories for the queer characters (and other thoughts)

I was going to make a separate blog to yell about books but I decided to do it here.

I AM NOT DONE CROOKED KINGDOM AT THE TIME OF WRITING THIS SO EVERYTHING I SAY IS HAVING ONLY READ HALF THE BOOK SO FAR.

The Grishaverse doesn't seem to have any form of homophobia, but SOC and CK are chalk fulllllllll of what I can only see as plots that mimic queer experiences for the queer characters in the main group.

We have four queer characters (that I know of at the moment): Jesper, Wylan, Nina, Kuwei.

So let's start with the obvious, three of the four are Grisha. Obviously not all Grisha are queer, but all the Grisha in the party are. This gives them an automatic plotline of "hide who you are".

It could be said that since Nina is Ravkan she wasn't raised that way, and no, she wasn't. However since leaving Ravka she has been forced to hide for her safety, and not only that but she is frequently told she's "too much" which sounds a lot to me like what some people say about queer people when they think queer people should be less queer. Also Matthias is all about being "traditional" and "proper" and Nina's whole thing is that she is neither. Traditional and proper sound a lottttt like some people's arguments to be homophobic.

Jesper's I think is rather obvious. His father has a clear concern for his son being Grisha since it can put your life at risk. In Jesper's argument with his dad he goes off and asks his dad why did he never let him go to Ravka where he could be himself and learn about himself and his powers. Oh not to mention the fact that him and his dad talk around him being Grisha like it's some sort of virus that can be caught by simply speaking the word.

Kuwei's took a second to hit me but when it did I was like "ah yep, makes sense" and this is probably because it took me a hot second to realize Kuwei was queer. Yeah, apparently him being jealous that Jesper only looked at Wylan a certain way didn't tip me off... ANYWAY THOUGH. Kuwei is also told to hide who he is, but his dad goes the extra length of literally making a drug to help him hide himself. Is it giving anyone else Dorian's dad from Dragon Age vibes??? Blood magic for the gay son???

FINALLY, I will talk about my baby, the character I love more than anything else. Wylan. Here's the thing about Wylan, while I was reading SOC I wasn't sure if homophobia existed in this world yet and I was half convinced that his dad disowned him because gay. While his dad obviously didn't do that, I still think at the end of the day it portrays an experience that is very similar. Wylan is shamed, hidden, and ultimately his dad tries to have him killed, all because he can't read. His dad loathes him over such a stupid reason, especially since Wylan is absolutely brilliant at tons of stuff and the cutest lil guy. But I think it's that hatred of his son over something so trivial that really lends itself to being about something else entirely, Wylan being queer.

All four of our queer characters in the main group have different plots, but ultimately they all circle around the idea of hiding who you are and being ashamed of who you are. That sounds like a very common queer experience if you ask me.

I don't know if this was intentional or just a huge coincidence. As a writer myself I am all too aware of how easily accidental metaphors and symbols can happen. But I think about it a lot as I'm reading so I wanted to shout about it either way. I also have no clue if this is a common idea or not, I just know when I pointed it out to my friends who had read the books prior, one of who loves and reads them yearly, they both kinda went "oh damn, you right," but didn't see it before I mentioned it.

Anyway, if I missed things (or you wanna yell at me about how wrong I am, which is usually the more likely option) I'd love to know thoughts :)

AND BONUS THOUGHTS

This one is super obvious but I just wanna say it. Jesper is ADHD and no one will change my mind in the history of ever. This man cannot sit still, has been described as having limitless energy, and he seeks constant immediate gratification in the form of gambling and adrenalin rushes. COME ON MAN. I know I know, there's a lore reason, something something Grisha not using magic blah blah. No. No. He is ADHD and you cannot tell me otherwise. And I love him dearly.

Also, not a theory or anything but, y'all, I love Wylan so much. I just wanna give him a hug and a lollipop and tell him it's okay. He's so cute.

[rekino2114]

[Me checking tumblr this morning]

Oh hey neat I have 500 followers now

WAIT I HAVE 500 FOLLOWERS NOW?

Genuinely, I never thought this would happen, and to think I started this blog just because I was sick and bored one day.

I cannot express my gratitude for all the support you've shown me. It means so much that you like my stuff and every like,reblog request and follow is very much appreciated and means a lot. Thank you so much. I'll definitely continue writing stuff for you.

And here's to another 500

So I have an announcement now. To celebrate this milestone I'll add two fandoms to the masterlist, one of which I'll let you guys choose(because as a yttd fan there's few things I like more than a good old fashioned majority vote)

The first fandom is gonna be from one of my favorite things to write for:fanganronpas. I've narrowed the choices down to three of them and I wanted to let you choose which one you'd like to see me write for the most

Don't worry I will still add the fangans that don't win the vote later, probably when we get more chapters or I reach more milestones

I'll leave you with some small drabbles/incorrect quotes with the main girls from the fangans you can choose from for today's post.

Thank you so much again for the milestone and hope you have a great day

Cancel(drf:sh)

[You and cancel are making out on the couch in your dorm]

Y/n:usually you're never this affectionate, what's up?

Cancel:What? Can't I show you my love once in a while?

Y/n:awww, you love me?

Cancel:yes, don't I say it enough?

Y/n:definitely not

Cancel:uh, just shut up and kiss me

[You continue making out until enigma walk in the room]

Enigma:Hey cancel have you see-

[She immediately pulls out while blushing intensely]

Cancel:Why are you here? Do you not know how to knock?

Enigma:geez sorry I didn't mean to-

Cancel:you still did, so go away

[He walks out as cancel looks away, still embarrassed]

Y/n:......guess you couldn't predict that

Cancel:[blushing] s-shut up

Akira hayasaka(dr:hd)

R/g/n:Call me, cutie~

[She says while handing you a piece of paper with her number]

Y/n:.....I actually-

[She walks away before you can even finish]

Y/n:[sigh]

[You throw the paper away and approach akira, who's still glaring at the girl]

Akira:what a bitch, she didn't let you finish half your sentences

Y/n:Yeah,you're way better

Akira:Did you really have any doubts~?

Y/n:[giggle] no

Akira:Good.......by the way, do you know what her name is?

Y/n:No, she didn't even tell me that can you believe that? Why do you wanna know anyway?

Akira:..........no reason

Y/n:.....Kira, you're not thinking about killing her....right?

Akira:No,I'm a hitman, not a murderer

Y/n:Oh good

Akira:.....that being said, I wouldn't mind someone putting a hit on her

Y/n:.......

Anko hibana(bdr:cp)

Anko:[gasp] How can you tell such things about me, hiro!? and I thought we were friends, I am not clingy with y/n!

Hiroto:.......

[You suddenly walk into the room]

Y/n:Hey babe do you wanna-

Anko:[gasp]

[She immediately runs to hug you tightly

Anko:Oh,how are you, my sweet and cute pookie

Y/n:....g-good thanks

Anko:I bet it's better now that I'm here riiiiiight~?

Y/n:y-yeah

Anko:[giggle] good answer

[She starts peppering your face in kisses]

Hiroto:You seriously don't see what I mean?

Anko:hm? What were we talking about again?

Hiroto:........

Anko:sorry it's just that y/n takes up all the space in my mind when I see them, in fact, we're going out now

Y/n:w-wait we are?

Anko:so call me if you need me ok hiro?

Hiroto:.......

Anko:I'll take that as a yes

[She grabs your hand and drags you outside]

[secretmellowblog]

As someone who has seen 500000000 Les mis adaptations: It depends on what your friend is into, and what kind of media they generally like!

It also depends on your focus: are you looking to introduce your friend primarily to Les Amis, to Jean Valjean and Javert, or to Les Mis as a whole? (Also: consider how you got into Les Mis, and what your first adaptation was!)

my recs:

1. The 2012 film is the easiest and most accessible adaptation for a general audience, in my opinion, even for someone who isn’t a huge musical fan. (In fact, the movie kinda suffers as an adaptation for trying so hard to appeal to people don’t like musicals haha XD.)

Having tried to introduce people with other adaptations, I’ve found 2012 is the one that always grabs the people who aren’t already fans, even if they’re not super into musicals XD. The stage musical recordings are confusing to people who don’t already know the plot, even though the music is handled better. Other nonmusical adaptations are either Terrible, like the 2018 miniseries …..or they’re sadly often kind of boring to people who aren’t already huge fans of the story. Saying “72 is interesting for focusing on Marius” or “82 is interesting for featuring more of Les Amis” doesn’t interest the kind of person who doesn’t know who Marius or Les Amis are. I’ve noticed that while I can say things like “the 8 hour long 1925 silent film is the superior adaptation that captures the novel better” it’s only because I’m already emotionally invested in the story.

2012 isn’t the best adaptation but it is one of the most accessible to new viewers imho. It’s short short and conveys the emotional beats the most clearly for someone who has no pre existing familiarity with the plot of the novel. The settings are clear, the characters are clear, the general emotional thrust of the plot is clear— and there are enough fun weird choices (some good some hilariously bad) to keep people entertained even if they’re not familiar with Les Mis at all. The problem is that uhhhhh it has a lot of serious goofy flaws, mainly the director’s inability to understand how music works and the baffling cinematography choices. However the flaws are funny and it fun to talk about them during a watch party.

You say your friend doesn’t like musicals, which is fair— but If she’s willing to try 2012, try going with the “this is a very awkward goofy flawed imperfect adaptation, but it kickstarted a lot of fandom stuff and can give you a general idea of what the emotional thrust of the story is like.”

I also think 2012 is unique becayse most Les mis adaptations start out with a decent first half then fall apart after the convent time-skip, but 2012 starts out pretty meh and then gets really energized after the time-skip when the story moves to Paris.

The stage musical and recordings are what I recommend for “musical theater snobs” (affectionate) who care a lot about music being done well in a way that it isn’t in the 2012 film, and are willing to use Wikipedia or something to help themselves follow the plot. It doesn’t sound like your friend is super into musicals tho XD.

The Takahiro Arai Manga is an excellent excellent manga adaptation that everybody should read, a great loving thoughtful take on the story that deeply understands its messages and characters, and is a passion project of its writer. While it can be very over-the-top sometimes, and makes some of its own dubious changes, its probably the next best thing to reading the brick! Its really good!!! It’s split into four volumes though and will take longer to read.

(Just make sure you’re getting the Takahiro Arai manga specifically, not the other American “classics for Kidz” manga that are much poorer in quality. XD)

I think you should also show your friend 82 and watch it while explaining why you’re passionate about it— even if it’s not the first adaptation you guys check out together.

Anyway, these are my hot takes! Also if your friend is interested in trying to tackle the novel in bite-sized pieces, the @lesmisletters readalong of Les Mis is happening again next year! ^_^

What is the best adaptation to introduce my friend to Les mis?

So like the title said I want to introduce one of my friends to Les mis bc I know she will really like it and loves the themes of the story, she agreed to let me show her an adaptation to get her into it, but idk with which adaptation I should choose to get her into it

I've heard the shoujo cousette is good and complete (I've only watched the first episode for now) but I worry it might be too long for someone completely new to Les mis? Ik the musical is probably also a solid entry point but my friend also isn't really into Musicals so I'm not sure it's the best to get her into it but I could convince her to watch it she's not that much against them, but if there's a better entry point I'll take it

My favorite adaptation is the 1982 one but it's also very strange and I'm not sure how book accurate it is compared to other adaptations so idk if it'd be a good adaptation

So I'm not sure what adaptation to show her first and would appreciate any input to with what adaptation to introduce her to Les mis!

[gayabeilles]

my house is STINKY send post

[starry-bi-sky]

don't you want to be a cult leader? - danyal al ghul au

this is mostly a joke post but i thought it was funny and had to share so--

his first mistake was, obviously, inheriting his father's inability to see an injustice and stand still. -- actually, danyal's first mistake was his lair being so big. a mountainous island with a large temple in the center resembling his old home in Nanda Parbat? With sprawling foliage and rivers and streams and waterfalls galore? What was he going to do with all that space? Let it go to waste? He had plants there! Native trees of the ghost zone growing from the soil! He couldn't let it all be left unchecked!

So naturally after helping a fellow teenage assassin ghost -- who he later learns is named Akihiko, -- from Walker of all people, he sent them over to hang low at his lair until it was safe enough for them to wander around the Zone. Walker couldn't get through Danyal's astrofield if his life depended on it, and trust him -- he's tried. Danny was clearing out debris from his stupid transport vans for weeks.

Honestly it wasn't so bad, he and Aki really quickly became fast friends and Danny loves having a sparring partner close to his level again -- he hasn't had this much fun fighting since he left the League. Aki was very dedicated and levelheaded, the both of them clicked really well because of it.

Nonono, the real trouble began after Danyal met some long-passed League members and allowed them to come join his island as well. Apparently they had made a few enemies of the zone, and maybe Danyal still felt some loyalty to the League. He couldn't just let them be left to rot. Their zealotry could be overlooked so long as they kept it contained and helped him take care of his island.

And it.. snowballs from there? He meets a teen squire aptly calling himself Ambroise -- whether that was his living name or not is yet to be seen -- who died during feudal france, who is just about as dramatic and passionate as every french stereotype makes them out to be. He calls Danyal "my moon and great muse" -- which is both flattering and little uncomfortable, but Danyal's grown up in the League as the Grandson of the Demon Head, he is used to mild worship. he passes it off as nothing more, nothing less. -- and while his energy is overwhelming on the worst of days, he helps Danny draw out of his shell more in ways that Sam and Tucker still struggle with.

Him and Aki butt heads a lot, but the two seem to hold the other in at least some positive regard, so Danny doesn't worry too much about them fighting while he's gone. It only becomes a mild issue when Aki also begins calling Danny "my moon". It's a little sweet, so Danyal brushes it off.

Then he takes in a troupe of ghosts some time after he defeats Pariah Dark and they begin calling him "great one" just as the yetis do in the far frozen. This is where he meets the twins -- a pair of sibling ghosts who call themselves Trixie and Missy (short for Trick and Mislead) -- who aren't quite as passionate as Ambroise but more energetic than Aki. Eventually they also start calling Danyal "my moon" and attach themselves to his hip, even within the living. They like to hide in his shadow and cause trouble for the rest of the students. He makes sure they don't hurt anyone.

He's pretty sure Aki is jealous, same with Ambroise, but he can't be too certain other than the fact that they become much more lingering (re: clingy) whenever he visits the island.. Something he's trying to do much more often these days due to the increasing amount of people living there now. Since when did he become so popular?

Then there's Pēnelópeia from the Greater Athens, who ran away from home and joined his Island after he ran into her while she was being chased by Skulker -- and he's pretty sure the reason was because of her chimeric appearance. Her strange eyes and mismatched wings and lion's tail and talons. She assimilates into his friend group very easily, she gets along well with Ambroise and Trixie and Danny usually finds the three of them climbing the trees to pluck the most fruit from the top. They can fly and he knows it, but they prefer to climb.

Then finally there's silent poet Akkara who comes from ancient mesopotamia, who gets along most with Aki -- which is no surprise there considering their similar personality dispositions. he watches Aki and Danyal fight each other and leaves comments on this or that that he notices. He writes Danyal poems on clay tablets and leaves them by his room.

They're one big mismatched group of outcasts, and Danny's got the other ghosts on his island to tend to, because they're living on his island and he wants to be hospitable even if he struggles with that. But he spends the most of his time with them.

Sam and Tucker are making fun of him. Tucker jokingly tells him 'careful Danny, at this rate you're gonna start a cult'. Danny really wishes he had taken that joke more seriously.

He just. keeps. collecting people. Wayward souls lost in the zone, looking for shelter or refuge from something or other -- whether that be another hostile ghost, or a past afterlife, or just a purpose. Danyal finds them, he takes them in, offers them a place on his island until they are ready to leave. Many seldom do. He's not complaining -- he has the space, and it feels like it's only ever growing.

His close friends, his "inner circle" as he's heard the others call them, keep insistently calling him "my moon". He starts calling them his stars, because then it only feels fair. They're his stars, this is his constellation. It becomes a thing; little star halos begin forming behind their heads, picking them out from the rest. He loves them so much, it's hard to place. Sam and Tucker are also his stars, but they reside in the living realm, they're his tie to Life. Meanwhile, his friends here know what it's like to be dead, and sometimes its nice to relate.

Those living on his island keep calling him "Great One" and he's beginning to notice zealotry in their care for his island. He really, deeply appreciates it. His close friends gain nicknames -- as his stars, it's only natural for him to pick them out from the cluster in the skies. Akihiko, his Sirius and bright star. Trix and Missy, Castor and Pollux, the twins and troublemakers. Ambroise, his zealous Antares and close friend. Penelopeia, chimeric and loyal Vega. And Akkara, his Arcturus and strength.

It's ridiculous how long it takes for him to notice; he is, of course, a deadly trained assassin. He is meant to be observant -- and normally he is! But somehow this becomes a blind spot. One that becomes too big to be dealt with by the time he realizes it.

He should've noticed when Aki, his Sirius, stood beside him one day while Danyal looked over his island and saw the sprawling spirits carrying on about their afterlife and bowing to him as they saw him, and said: "I looked down into the depths when I met you; I couldn't measure it." They aren't one for flowing prose, it took him so off guard he was silent for over a minute before he finally spoke.

Danyal should've recognized devotion for what it is, and yet he didn't. He should've recognized it when Antares began spouting praises about him, crowing about his radiance and resplendence to the heavens. He just brushed it off as Ambroise being Ambroise. He should've recognized it when Trix and Missy nearly broke Dash's leg after he knocked Danyal's books out of his hands, he excused it as them being protective. Of them coming from times where such violence may have been customary -- after all, that's what he used to be like. What he was still like, sometimes, when his emotions nearly got the better of him.

He should've noticed it when the people living on his island followed his word like gospel, looked at him like he hung the stars in the sky. When his friends gifted him a shawl with the moon phases delicately embroidered into it, with silver, shimmering thread and moving stars lovingly stitched into it. Their constellations seen clear as day in the dark fabric. When he found small shrines dedicated to him -- but they lacked any image of him beyond stones carved to look like moons, so he ignored it. When the religious imagery began popping up.

He really, really should've noticed it when a bunch of cultists accidentally summoned Antares, and Antares had turned to him when he arrived and called them heretics. But he was so centered on the fact that they had kidnapped one of his stars, that he hadn't paid much attention to what Ambroise had said.

Sages say that faith is blind, they should also say faith in you is even blinder.

It really only hits him one afternoon while he's sitting in Sam's room studying with Tucker, Missy and Trixie lounging at his feet, Aki sat on his right, Penelopeia braiding his hair, Ambroise draped against him, and Akkara lurking over him. Its one of the rare few times they're all in one room together.

It hits him like a bolt of lightning. He looks up from his textbook. "Oh Ancients," he says in no amounting shock. Everyone looks up to him.

"I've become my grandfather."