#anyway i gotta explain these things to her.

[arcanarix]

made suguru a dull boy…

synopsis. with more and more responsibilities stacked like a tower of pancakes on geto’s plate, you and the twins feel like suguru’s forgotten how to have real fun! so you take him on a trip back down memory lane… (hopefully in a more positive light)

tw. implied kidnapping, yandere geto, the twins are the only thing keeping you sane, established dynamic captor/captive, reader is a non sorcerer, cult leader!geto, piv sex, oral (f! and m! receiving), reader has kind of mellowed out since you’ve been captive for more than a year or two by now. geto is actually kind of nicer to you.

WC: 3.1K

“Do you really think this is going to work?” you ask Nanako in a hushed tone, glancing at the stacks of metal bins containing a lot of Geto’s collectibles that he’d forgotten since he took on this new role. They’re all just sitting here collecting dust rather than being displayed and admired by a once bright eyed, unassuming, impressionistic fanboy. It’s hard to think about the fact that at one point, Geto was just a normal teenager who grew into whatever he was now.

Does he remember anything about having a bright childhood or has it been all doom and gloom from the start for someone like him? You can’t help but spiral into the possibilities. Does he remember playing ball and wondering how high up he can throw it and catch it? Does he remember his first balloon animal at someone’s birthday party? Does he remember the first video game he’s ever fallen in love with, or his first board or card game? 

Does he even have fond memories to look back on? Why does he work so hard to erase what he was before?

You still don’t have an appropriate label for someone like him, someone so otherworldly. ‘Monster’ is too on the nose and doesn’t capture all of those nuances about the guy. 

But does he even deserve to be deemed complex? Or should you just call him some guy? Some guy who has plucked you off the streets because you had some curse he was after. Some guy who has decided to keep you around because he has some kind of lust or obsession with you. 

That’s definitely a discussion for another time… 

“It might help him remember he’s a person too,” Nanako suggests with a shrug. “You know, smoke and mirrors aside, he’s just a person. Even if that ego of his doesn’t like to admit it…” 

“So what’s in all of these?” you prod as you pluck one of the tins from the top of one stack, waving off the dust that gathers around your face and blowing more of it off of the cool surface. You squint your eyes. So much of the paint has chipped off but you recognize the font of a popular franchise. 

“You’ve gotta be kidding,” you nearly scoff but try to refrain unless you want your head chopped clean off. “Are these fucking Yugioh cards?” 

The shock in your tone even catches Mimiko and Nanako off guard for a few moments, but they bounce back quickly. Nanako glances at Mimiko, and the older twin doesn’t know how to approach the topic at first but seems to come up with an explanation out of thin air like she always does.

“That Satoru Gojo guy Mr. Geto keeps talking about liked Digimon,” Mimiko explains, as her eyes scan the rows upon rows of countless trinkets and gizmos Geto claims he’d much rather leave behind, forgotten. “And Geto always rambled on about how much cooler Yugioh was from all those stories he’d tell us. They were best friends or something, but they got into a huge fight and that’s why they still aren’t talking now.” 

“You know they can still be friends if they just talked things out,” Nanako remarks, curiosity in her tone. “I mean, clearly Gojo still cares enough about Mr. Geto if he hasn’t killed him yet, right?” 

Mimiko nods. “Yeah.”

You ignore their conversation because you don’t really care to know much about that stuff, since it’s out of your realm of understanding anyway. Sorcerer politics that shouldn’t concern a non sorcerer monkey like you.

“Wow, I can’t relate,” you admit, finding yourself chuckling in spite of yourself. It’s not from amusement, still just disbelief that Geto was a person before all of this. Before what he is now. You almost are curious to know a little more, just to see if it’s worth peeling back all of those layers. “I was always a Pokemon girl.” 

“So is Mr. Geto!” Nanako chirps, beaming to where you can see her eyes twinkle in spite of the low ambient lightning of the attic. “Maybe you can like him more if you bond with him like this.” 

“It’s a thoughtful idea, but he’d probably say anything made by monkeys are only for monkeys.” With you being his sole exception or something of the kind, just a pretty appendage for a ruthless cult leader and scam artist. Something to tell his new world order that beneath all of that male bravado is a blatant hypocrite. “Isn’t that why he’s forgone his old personality?” 

“We just want Mr. Geto to have room to be a person, not just a dad or a leader, so can you please do this for us?” Nanako asks with a little pout. You fret as you assess the situation, glancing at the box in your hands, and then at the numerous stacks before you. 

How can you even say no to that face? Even if she’s completely complacent in all of this, you can’t completely fault these two girls for clinging onto the man who saved them from certain death for dear life. 

You have learned more about Geto than you have ever cared to in these few moments alone.

“Fine,” you decide, with a sigh in defeat as you toss some of your hair away from your face. You have taken countless losses here, so what’s another? “I’ll try to get your dad to lighten up, if it’ll make you both happy.”

“Thank you!” Nanako and Mimiko reply in unison with wide grins, before exchanging a look with each other. 

The stroll back to the second floor of the temple is a silent one as your mind is still muddled with thoughts about Geto’s not terribly distant past. From what you remember the twins telling you, Geto found them when he was no older than 16 or 17 and then he takes over this organization without so much as breaking a sweat. Given his status as some big shot sorcerer who doesn’t agree with the conservative ways of their society, you suppose that’s not entirely farfetched but you also aren’t aware of just what any of this means for someone like him or them. 

It’s just very hard to believe that beyond all of this, is a boy whose youth had been stripped from him. And misery loves company, so that’s why he decides to take you in maybe. You still don’t know his reason behind why he chose you or why he kept you—all you can do is infer. And perhaps every single possibility you have ever come up with is entirely off the mark but you don’t really care either way.

It doesn’t matter anymore. This is your life and you have to accept it. No one is going to save you, and no one can save you from forces they cannot see or fight.

You slip into the bedroom, eyes flitting to Geto who is seated like an emperor on your shared bed, one leg extended and one tucked in to support a book he’s reading in his lap. He’s let his hair fall down his back and frame the sharp features of his face. He doesn’t seem too reactive as he glances up from the page he’s about to flip through and actually smiles these days upon seeing your face. He has become soft with you, as far as softness goes for someone like him. He sets his book aside and strides toward you, looming over you like the giant he is compared to you and really compared to most people.

“Where have you been off to for so long?” Geto greets you with a light kiss on the crown of your head. He gestures to the box in your hand, and as a chain reaction you grip tighter onto it. “And what’s this?” 

Time to play up that act. Like you’re completely complacent, completely submissive to him and that you’re totally alright with anything that happens from here.

Because you have no power anymore, right? You may as well wear your mask well. And you seem to, these days. You seem to please Geto more and more with each passing month you’ve been here. At some point, you don’t even bother keeping track of how long it’s been since you’ve been in his care. Has it been a decade at this point or just a few months? It’s all a blur now.

None of it matters, anyway.

“Forgive me, the twins dragged me through one of their little adventures,” you reply with a small smile as you hand him the metal tin box. “This belonged to you. We—I thought you might want it.” 

Furrowing his brows at that, he slides off the lid, violet eyes widening upon the stacks of collectible cards. You catch something amiss in his stare. Something flashing in his eyes. 

Nostalgia? 

“I thought I burned these,” he mutters, more to himself, picking up one of the cards. You do recognize that one from your childhood. The Dark Magician. And is that another smile on his face? Another real, genuine smile? Are you dreaming? You must be! “Did they take you to the attic?” 

You feel your heart drop. Like old times. You nod. “They wanted to play hide and seek, but we found these instead.” 

He inspects the card with a quizzical expression. 

“Is there a purpose for this?” he prods with a hum.

“W-we just thought it’d be nice if you relaxed every once in a while,” you squeak, averting your gaze from his eyes to your feet. His expression contorts into something close to shock or impressed. 

But he just laughs.

“How do you mean?” he replies. He seems amused rather than angry or defensive and you aren’t sure if you’re terrified or not. “I’m plenty relaxed.” 

“We mean you just don’t have room to be you. You’re not just a leader,” you tell him. Rather bold words out of you that under past circumstances, you might have been punished for challenging him at all. But that’s not what you’re doing here. “You are your own person beyond those titles. We just—well I—!” 

“—shush, my dear. It’s endearing, truly,” he replies, placing the card back into the box and setting it onto the foot of the bed. “But I haven’t forgotten anything about who I once was. It’s my primary driving force in doing what I do.” 

“Then why throw yourself into all of these things? It just seems like… you’re fighting for your life all the time, and it doesn’t always have to be like that,” Who are we really talking about here? Him or you? “You need time to be with family too. You need to be, well, yourself too and—!” 

—you’re interrupted with his lips plunging onto yours. But it isn’t hungry or demanding. Rather longing, gentle, coaxing. He pulls away for a moment so you can catch your breath as his intense violet gaze meets yours. 

In moments like these he’s like a majestic dragon. Mighty. Domineering. Ethereal. 

Hypnotic. Entrancing. 

Beautiful. Breathtakingly so. Even in spite of everything, in spite of all of these horrors he’s put you through that feel so small and trivial in these fleeting moments where you can almost believe he feels something for you as beyond a pretty pet. 

A slender finger traces the edge of your cheek and you find yourself leaning into his touch. 

“Since when has this concerned you so much?” he purrs, his hands snaking down to the dip of your waist, securing you in place. Your eyes glimmer, with an edge of fear but more wonder of what’s spiraling in a mind like his. Dark, ruthless. Calculating. 

“Because…” you swallow thickly, the palms of your hands resting on his pecs, drawing your lips closer to his as your eyes begin to flutter shut. “Because you deserve to breathe, Geto. To have fun. To live a life, an actual life. Like anyone else.” 

Even if you are excluded from this equation. He has taken you from your life. But you can make the most of what you have here, perhaps. 

“Let me assure you, my dear, I can still have plenty of fun,” he growls seductively into your ear as he grabs you by your bottom and rests you on your back on the mattress, planting heated, open mouthed kisses on your neck. You don’t have a reason to argue or protest, as he slips your silk robe off of your body, revealing your bare body as you’ve forgone wearing undergarments in this temple. At any point he may want access to you and you have accepted that part of your life just as you have everything else about this arrangement.

But that doesn’t mean you’re completely content with it. No, it just means you know when it is best to surrender.

A breathy gasp escapes your lips when his mouth lands on your folds, tongue rolling between them and circling your clit until it stiffens. 

You can distract yourself in these moments because now you have new thoughts that haunt your mind—does he remember the first time he’s ever had a candy he loved? What about going to carnivals and trying a funnel cake? What has made his eyes light up in childlike wonder in his youth before his role in the world stripped that away from him until there was nothing left behind than the evil possessing him? 

He calls your name and commands you to watch.

And you do, no more hesitations like before, when you would cower at the idea of even so much as glancing in his general direction. You boldly find his face, half of it lightly coated in your juices, some of it sliding off of his sharp chin as his dragon-like gaze bores into yours. 

“You taste divine as always,” he purrs as he closes his mouth over your hole, sucking hard. Not much longer until he coaxes the first orgasm of the night out of you, but he never stops at just one. Whether he admits it to himself or not, he does enjoy thoroughly spoiling you but not without something in return. “There’s nothing else I’d rather feast on, except, perhaps…”

His tongue laves your perineum before rimming your back hole, making your hands fly up to clamp your mouth shut in a poor effort to muffle your pitiful moan. 

“Such a dirty girl,” he teases with an audible kiss to your anus. “You like this hole being teased more, don’t you?” 

He snakes the tip of his tongue around the rim of your back hole again, before dipping it inside. You gasp again, arching your back off of the feathery bed. 

“This is the most exciting part of my day,” he continues to ramble on as he feasts on your asshole while two fingers rub your folds and clit to work another orgasm out of you. “Watching you come undone beneath me. This is what I find fun. Learning what can make you scream for me.”

He slurps against your back hole, fucking his tongue into the tight ring of muscle and he chuckles as you try to find some grounding. 

“This relaxes me,” he goes on, “Making you feel like this.”

Once he coaxes another orgasm out of you, he pulls back, allowing you to catch your breath as you come down from that mind numbing high. But then you glance at him and he’s inching toward you, guiding your head toward the tip of his cock, hard, veiny and leaking. 

He pats your cheek, beckoning you. 

“Open up,” he demands in a singsong tone and you obey, wordlessly, jaw hanging open as he pushes his tip past your lips and teeth. He growls at the sensation, the flat of your tongue gliding along his shaft as he inches just enough of his size. He tosses his head back, eyes rolling back into his skull as he bucks himself into your mouth, fucking your throat and thankfully you have trained yourself and don’t gag anymore when taking his size like you once did. His size doesn’t intimidate you like it once did.

Many things about Geto don’t intimidate you like they once did, the more you think about it. In a way, it is actually reassuring to know that he’s still just some person and you can still find power over that somewhere. 

Maybe you can’t figure out what to do with this information now… 

But it does remind you that you can still be a person beyond whatever Geto’s made you into for him too. 

You want to remember the girl you were. The girl whose eyes lit up at the sight of cute animals in videos or on the street. The girl who’s had her own hopes and dreams that still can be reached if she just fought hard enough.  The girl who had likes and dislikes and an identity. 

All outside whatever this is. 

He can’t take that away. He may have taken many things, but you have realized you have something to hold onto that he chose to throw away about himself.

You nearly choke a bit as Geto forces you to take his entire length as stringy shots of cum flood the back of your throat. He slips his cock out, still hard and needing to be inside you and your position shifts. He has you seated on his lap as he guides the tip of his cock to your entrance and pushes inside while a hand wraps around your neck. 

“Swallow,” he demands in a harsh whisper, more from arousal and you listen, you obey, because you haven’t a choice in this case. You still grimace from the zingy salty taste of him and it’s something you likely aren’t ever going to get used to, but you have come to be able to accommodate his size when he fucks you like this now. Long, deep, harsh. Each jerk of his hips shakes the bed. Now your body is in a coat of sweat and sometimes he likes to observe himself disappear into you while he murmurs into your ear about how well you take him. 

“You’re so perfect,” he praises, nipping your ear. “So good for me. Fuck, you feel like the perfect sleeve for my cock. You’re made for it.”

His other hand moves to fondle your breasts as he fucks into you, biting down on your shoulder as he comes inside, pumping you so full of his seed that some of it trickles out of your hole while he’s still inside of you, warming himself up. 

“This is plenty fun for me,” he assures you with a kiss to the shoulder he just bit. “Trust me, love, I haven’t grown dull.”

[biff-adventurer]

I strongly feel the need to share a story about this, because I feel it demonstrates the problems inherent in these expectations, too. Just preaching to the choir, I s'pose.

So, for the longest time, I didn't mod any of my characters. I still don't, but that's not really important. What is, however, is that I did not have the Moon Goggles until six months ago. I'm from Aether, and many of my RP friends are from Crystal. The group I'd found did heavily use mods, but also accepted that people didn't use mods.

HOWEVER. Not purposely, of course, but there was a strong bias toward people who could see the mods, versus those who couldn't. Because I couldn't see, a lot of my experience was compromised until I could. And when I could, everyone was excited to share things with me. Prior to that, they were kind enough to show me screenshots of their modded characters so I would know.

Anyway, one of my friends started playing another character who was heavily modded, mostly because they were a cross-over character from another piece of media. So they come to our venue on Aether, where we don't use a lot of mods in RP spaces (because the RP spaces are still pretty insular, outside of open venues including cafes and nightclubs, which not every kind of character will be attracted to).

That night, my friend was MORTIFIED that almost nobody was in our synchshell. Hell, we didn't even bother mentioning we had one. My friend just sort of expected that we did. But no one at the bar was bothered with mods, because the few who did had corresponding vanilla mods, and the ones who didn't, were reliant on text-based RP.

My friend freaked out that no one could see her "correctly". She's a descriptive writer, would not have needed mods. Her character was "close enough". But she was overwhelmed with the thought of not being perceived the way she specifically wanted to be perceived upon immediate sight. I struggled to explain that it's not a huge deal to us, but it didn't go very well. We are still friends and worked through the talk, but it didn't address the issue of modding versus not modding.

The reason why we're still friends is that her feelings were rooted in an insecurity like performance anxiety. Needing to be perfectly executed, lest people not understand what's happening. I found this so sad. This idea that people won't care unless they see what your aesthetic is, instantly. Obviously, that's a ridiculous standard.

Especially when the focus should be on us all making fun stories together. That's how we all grow closes to each other, that's how characters bond over years and years.

The other thing is that it takes time to get to know people. It takes conflict to understand yourself and others. There's not a real way to avoid conflict between people, so mods shouldn't be relied upon as a short-cut to understanding the others around you.

Too often, roleplayers will read replies only enough to respond to the other character. In practice, this is like that old joke from 90's sitcoms: "Haha, I only listen to my wife long enough to know what to say next." If you want to connect with someone, you've gotta listen to them actively. That means engaging with their text in a way that reflects you have received the information, even just with a tiny prosaic mention.

It actually really hurt my feelings when I tried to explain this and I was told, "but you're the Warrior of Light." I wasn't always this character. I have other characters who aren't fully captured in the game, too. Hell, the scars available to use in customization are not in the right places for this character. They never were. The right voice is not there, the way the hair color works, for my headcanon, is not completely right, the shape of my character's body is drastically different. I had to wait to get the stubble face for a long time. I had to wait to get the right hair. Just like everyone else. It hurts to be told 'but you don't share in this struggle' when, in fact, you have for quite a while.

I feel like part of this is "instant gratification" and another part is "social anxiety" feeding into the problem of prioritizing aesthetic over story. One satisfies the need for roleplay quicker than playing out a roleplay and the other prevents people from approaching one another without the confidence of mods behind them. It's not wrong to enjoy aesthetic, not one bit! But when you want a roleplay connection, you have to exercise some level of patience and put in some level of effort to connect with other people regardless of what could happen. And, without your writing to provide context to it, your aesthetic can be misinterpreted just as easily as anything else about you.

Social anxiety and other neurodivergent conditions are serious, yes. But if you're suffering from loneliness because you're too afraid to reach out to others, then you might be letting your condition control you to an unhealthy extent. Lots of people are unmedicated, and I get that. I was unmedicated for a long fucking time, too. But if you don't try to reach for happiness, you won't ever have to chance to reach it.

I wish that emphasis could be placed back on story, but there are so many problems outside of the fandom affecting our culture and social behaviours. Critical thinking is not well taught. Social etiquette has not been well taught. The great majority of corporation funded media is driven by the need to grab money while people are excited--so, as long as they create things attractive and indulgent enough, fuck what it means about the world. Fear is gripping the hearts of many, such that they are afraid to say what they really think. And fear is feeding into the fury of mobs online, who then punish people for asking genuine questions about topics they don't know. As a result, good faith interpretations are no longer the norm. People often assume the worst when they are uncomfortable. It's really sad. I'm a woman of color, so I'm really used to not being heard. I know what I say won't make much of an impact. I haven't said things in the kindest, gentlest way that it could possibly be said. But I don't want to be someone who couches the truth in sweet words. I don't want to feed into the idea that the truth must be comfortable, or that people's feelings must be comfortable to be heard. It's not a fair standard for anyone trying to express their honest feelings.

I'm just so tired. I want the practice of kindness and patience to spread wide, so we can discuss issues with nuance, without starting a fandom wide storm about things. I hope we can show more empathy toward one another in the future.

Playerscope, modding and the hunt for aesthetic: why you should be more upset about mods and community expectations than you already are.

I love that this sounds like an academic paper but HONESTLYYYY. I need to put my thoughts to paper in regards to my burnout with xiv, otherwise I think I'll go insane. This is a controversial yet brave post. I am well aware that I partake in some of the things I'm going to be critiquing; aka, "thank you, dinklebottom, we live in a society." I'm also not critiquing mods from a space of offering more accessibility to people and/or facilitating representation not currently offered within the context of the game. There is nuance to every discussion and I'm coming at this from an overarching view around mods and community expectations/standards rather than player joy. I hope this makes sense. I'm also predominately writing from a roleplay perspective, though I'm sure a lot of what I end up saying can reflect in the art party/social space. Just know if I haven't mentioned the latter it's because that's not my scene and I don't pretend to know otherwise.

Anyway. For those who don't know, there's a new mod that's causing some strife in the xiv community called Playerscope. Here is the reddit thread about it. I'm not going to be talking too much about the mod in general because that's not the point of this post, but seeing discussion around it today just made me feel more exhausted than I already am when it comes to modding and the xiv community around it. It made me realise... I'm actually really sick to death of mods. I'm sick to death of what they're doing to the community when it comes to gatekeeping, policing and in general the interactions we have with each other in the community.

Let me explain: I wrote a post about the roleplay mod on bsky that kind of articulates at a surface level what I mean.

I think what makes me sad, which I'm sure is echoed by a lot of people, is that mods feel like the standard now rather than an option and that there's a certain expectation for people to have them if they want to engage with facets of the community—whether intentional or not.

Unlike XIV, WoW has a supported mod scene (within reason) and TRP 2 and the like have been accepted for years now. In a space where people can't slap on an RP tag, having that tool readily identifies you as a writer/roleplayer and you can include as much or as little of your character as you like. The general idea is if you have one of these tools enabled, you're a roleplayer to some capacity. You can dress up the profile to a certain degree, you can add links and supported pictures, but you're mostly reliant on what you put to paper in regards to your character. Even then, I find filling out what my character is doing currently and marking the rest as a WIP doesn't necessarily exclude me from roleplay if I want to find it. A lot of people will do that and a super simple description to incite interest around their oc.

These days in XIV... I don't know. I do think communities have gotten more insular—it's why I'm so pedantic about trying to find them for the Compendium—but I also think mods and, to a certain extent, the 'nightclub' scene have gotten in the way of it as well. My argument is such.

I want to go to an event (for example sake, I'll call it Seascape). In order to fully participate, I may need:

Their discord.

A roleplay addon.

A carrd/google site/etc.

Their synchshell (including mods, mare and everything else)

Potentially a mod of some description so people know I can see theirs (and vice versa).

Also that your mod isn't made by a shitty person.

Appropriate understanding of the scene/social space.

Some luck and a prayer that it's an inclusive space and not a closed rp group advertising as being open and/or a mod showcase advertising itself as something different.

Like??? Holy shit you guys. If you are someone who doesn't want to mod because you're worried about repercussions it really just feels like a big 'fuck you, good luck'.

And let me be clear, not every community is like this. I'm incredibly lucky to have found fantastic roleplay within my own rp event/community, I have great friends who run awesome, inclusive events for people of any skill (writing or otherwise) and I do fully believe you can just enable the rp tag and find fun, fulfilling roleplay. But I've also found the above a lot of times, too. I've had people point-blank get mad at my partner because he won't install mods and try to exclude and/or circumvent him in spaces. It's weird. I've been to events where the only time I felt like I got proper interaction(s) was when I joined the aforementioned, even if I have my character's profile linked in my about. It's weird.

Honestly, no wonder new roleplayers feel overwhelmed. Not only do they have to learn roleplay etiquette, they have to be a mod expert overnight? It feels less about what someone can bring to the table as far as a story but what mods they can install to either look cool or pass an unspoken social barrier. As much as I'm down bad for aesthetic and looking the part, I hate it being at the cost of accessibility and fun for someone else.

Arguably it's the same for gposing and the like as well, which contributes to my exhaustion alongside all the graphical changes and I just. I'm gnawing at the bars of my cage.

I don't think it's going to change and arguably it's more of a Twitter/X issue than a Tumblr, one but Tumblr lets me write mini essays and Twitter will tell me to kms.

Ergo, I'll go with the essay-writing platform.

Anyway, I guess this is just a reminder that you don't need 4596419651 mods to be in the community and that people should be more vigilant on including people who don't have them for whatever reason, provided they operate in good-faith and want to contribute. I think we're careening to a slippery slope of expectation for something unsupported and I don't like it.

[chxckens]

my mom (pitying me) watched the first season of infinity train with me and now i have to type up a word document to infodump to her about it because she doesn't want me to talk so much after jaw surgery but i have THINGS i need to TELL her about it

[coolspacequips]

I think if all ppl can say about allura is that she's an obstacle to kl or that she's dead to be kl angst or that ppl shipping her w Lance suck then maybe just don't talk about her ever LMAO

[nervocat]

omg this day might turn out to be so good actually

[phagodyke]

okay can we have a new rule that if you're my friend and know I struggle with rsd from adhd + you're planning on hanging out with mutual friends but specifically aren't inviting me for whatever reason. Maybe Don't Tell Me About It

[pebblezone]

I hope I am not just a creator of questionable content, but also a friend

[beastking-golion]

Finished my run of Mortum’s romance and.

[mer-se]

Happy birthday mom ❤️

[prozac-shaped-urn]

*Me at the start of therapy thinking it’s gonna be a chill convo*: I have new artwork! It’s from an artist who does fanart for my favorite show. *turns my laptop to show this*

Therapist: Oh cool! The blond looks like Jean Smart.

Me: That’s because she is Jean Smart 😂

Therapist: Who’s the young lady making sweet love to her??

Me: Her name is Hannah Einbinder. She’s—

Therapist: OH FROM HACKS!!!!

Me: Yeah!!

Therapist: I love that show! It’s so beautifully done and funny as fuck.

Me: I’m the Walmart Deborah Vance so it definitely speaks to me.

Therapist: So what did you think of the last episode of Hacks?

Me: Full on tears. Supertramp is forever ruined. Like I heard Goodbye Stranger while in line at Wendy’s and started crying.

Therapist: *worried in a fangirl way only another fangirl would recognize* They are coming back right??

Me: *internally goes found-in-the-woods-with-a-stick-in-my-mouth-and-covered-in-kudzu feral* Uhm… Y-yes. The WGA is on strike right now but yeah they’ll be back.

Guys………. YALL

I struck pay-dirt with this woman.

ETA: I feel like I need to explicitly state the reference to Jean Smart is her AS DEBORAH VANCE. My therapist just said the artwork looked like Jean Smart, and I confirmed she was and then explained Hannah’s connection and my therapist understood the artwork is them AS THE CHARACTERS. We’re not delusional. We live in reality. This isn’t a Robert Bardo/Rebecca Schaeffer situation. WE GOOD.

[blujayonthewing]

hello good evening I have just learned that the goofy reality hopping all gnome one-shot justin ran a few years ago, which included clambering around in a giant kitchen to make a giant chocolate key and having to devise a scheme to stack up under trenchcoats to sneak onto a roller coaster at a water park, was not only canon in his universe but was in fact the backstory of its genesis

[latinokaeya-moving]

thinking maybe i was going somewhere when i wrote a note in my isidora fic speculating that maybe one of the reasons her foil relationship with claude works is bc of how interesting it is to look at them in terms of how the both of them are treated differently as these supposed ‘foreign’ entities within fodlan n how that could be analysed through a more meta political lens of the difference in perception when a racialised person is primarily seen as an invading threat vs when a racialised person is primarily seen as a source of extraction of resources/labour

[opens-up-4-nobody]

...

[t4tboblin]

feeling crazy 🤪 thinking about bb pokemon au. here are bob, linda, tina, gene, and louise's teams, in that order. explanations under the cut :) feedback is welcome id love to hear yalls thoughts

Bob in my head, he never really did any battling or anything, pokemon are just sort of a thing that exists around him. so i tried to reflect that with his "team"

camerupt: his "starter"-basically a gift from his dad when he started the restaurant. its absolutely ancient and lives in the restaurant kitchen; it gets up in the morning and plods over to help heat up the grill and lies there all day, then in the evening gets back up and goes to lie in its bed. too old to go upstairs. same vibe as your 10 year old laptop that you only use for one specific thing but by god are you using it. subsists on grease. bob has offered it other food. it jsut likes grease.

vanillish: aka the ice cream maker. linda suggested they get a working pokemon for the restaurant and this was the result. pokemon make bob nervous a little bit but he was like. the dad who says you cant get a pet and then ends up obsessed with the pet. hes an objectmon lover at heart :') he doesnt really consider it "his pokemon" but hes definitely the closest to being its trainer. it sleeps in the walkin and seems to love it, so.

klefki: object mon. symbolizes his love of object mons. i think maybe his keys got haunted one day and he just went. well. this might as well happen. its very chill

applin: the most "pet-like" of any of bob's mons, applin snuck into their produce one day and instantly won bob over. it sits on his shoulder or on the counter while hes working. also come on. he has to have a food mon on his team.

pidove: bob doesnt HAVE a pidove but theres one that always hangs around near the restaurant and he likes looking at em

tandemaus: Tandemaus

Linda she actually started a Pokemon Journey TM as a kid but ended up going home after getting her first badge. she loved the experience though!

emolga: her starter. likes to perch on bobs head. he likes to complain about it. but shes a cuddly sweetheart so its hard NOT to love her

scrafty: one of the mons linda caught on her journey. frequent accomplice when she was hellraising as a child. surprisingly good at keeping the kids out of trouble now

morpeko: she actually got it from trading her shinx back during her journey ("ha! sucker! those things are a dime a dozen") but the shinx was shiny :') but morpeko is a perfect fit for her (gets mad when it doesnt eat vs "mom has to eat every 15 minutes or she turns into a monster"). first of her pokemon that bob managed to win over

oricorio: a gift from her parents when she was in high school, long after shed come home from her journey. shes never changed its form and may or may not know she can even do that

zigzagoon: she doesnt actually have one, but theres a colony in the alley that she loves watching. theres a few galarian zigzagoon in there too, but in my mind The King is hoenian

tandemaus: Tandemaus

Tina by far the trickiest one for me. she doesnt want to be a trainer, but she does think contests are kinda cool

Munna: her first mon. bob and linda got her to help with her night terrors. also helps her remember good dreams so she can write about them in her diary/eff

Mudbray: i think tina starts volunteering at a pokemon daycare and this is one of the eggs that pops up. the trainer lets her keep it, but it has to live at the daycare ("for now!") because a Horse is not fitting in their apartment

Ponyta: tina's dream partner pokemon is a galarian rapidash. as much as i would love to see her dream come true im not convinced it will. however i can say with confidence that she'll have her very own ponyta one day :)

Hitmontop: reference to her capoeira era (rhyme unintended) also i like the idea of tina getting into martial arts in general

ralts: she wanted to catch a Dance-related pokemon to impress jimmy jr buuuuut she couldnt find a kirlia so. ralts. itll evolve someday! and then be really cool! but she kinda likes how awkward it is. its sweet. no shes not projecting. leave her alone

Drifloon: i like the idea of her zombie-fixation carrying over to ghost types. she found drifloon down by the pier and thinks its cute. bob thinks its definitely killed children before. but its very well behaved so the balloon stays

Gene definitely not a trainer either LOL if anything he wants to do pokemon musicals. all his mons are pretty much just performance partners

Loudred: his first mon, gifted to him as a whismur. bob and linda regret it significantly more now that its. not that. basically a standin for his megaphone

(Shiny) Eevee: aka Ken. he finds him walking home from school one day and hides him in his room for... longer than youd expect. by the time bob and linda found out it was way too late to kick ken out. something something trans-coded trainers having eevees

Spoink: also gets brought in off the street; gene just has a way of befriending stray mons. its a great match for his energy

his other three mons (Squawkabilly, Kricketune, and Chatot) he meets when hes older. i imagine grown-up him would have a whole flock of chatot living outside his apartment. linda hates kricketune though

Louise shes gonna be. the very best. like NO ONE ever was. fairy is the perfect type for her-cute, kinda weird, ridiculously strong

Igglybuff: as a wee one she saw wigglytuff and was obsessed and begged and begged her parents for one. she was significantly less impressed when she saw its first form but thats ok, theyre still buddies. and once her DUMB PARENTS will let her battle, shes gonna evolve that sucker into the wigglytuff of her dreams

Mimikyu: not her first pokemon, but definitely her partner. she finds it creeping around the apartment and demands to keep it. come on its cute creepy and powerful, shes eating that up

Ribombee: she gets him "second hand" and sneaks him into school with her. louise likes that hes a weird bug.

Togepi: a gift from her family on her 10th b-day-or at least the egg is. she watches that thing like a hawk and when it hatches she is DELIGHTED ("this must be what childbirth feels like!" "mm. yeah. pretty much the same.")

Morgrem: she catches this sucker in high school and they get into all kinds of mischief

Tinkatink: come on, shes just a little guy. look at her. louise cant just leave her out in the cold. no of course she isnt going to let her hit rocks at people or whack her parents toes. she'll be a perfect saint, honest.

[theparadoxmachine]

I'm going through a Jared Harris phase and I was telling my mom, who is a huge fan of the original Poltergeist, about the remake and how I thought JH's character was the most interesting thing about it and how I wished it had focused on him more. I mentioned how part of me is tempted to write something expanding on him and his character's ex and long story short by mom wants to read it so now I kind of have to

[phagodyke]

zzzzzz