#b) knows exactly how bad things really were and that there will be an inevitable flogging for awhile

[wavesoutbeingtossed]

I said this in the tags of another post, but I do wonder if someone is, er, distraught and slighted about an upcoming release because they genuinely didn’t think Taylor would reveal some of these things, because they knew better than anyone how painful things had been in the past for her to process and that she kept some of that under wraps for so long out of self-preservation. (Which is why songs like Would’ve Could’ve Should’ve, YOYOK, High Infidelity, etc. Were so shocking, because they touched subjects she previously kept a lid on or stated were too difficult to talk about.)

So they perhaps assumed that even in the event of a breakup, the really painful stuff would stay locked away in a metaphorical vault as well, or stay shrouded in metaphor. But they were, er, taken by surprise by the fact that a) she’s ripped the bandaid off (first on Midnights and then on tour and now with ~everything~ in her life e.g. publicly calling people out in interviews/going after DM and other gossip/etc.) b) done so so soon and c) done so so publicly (e.g. huge publicity campaign instead of a surprise album drop). Which is why their team is scrambling to put together a counter-narrative because the self-protection they counted on on her part and perhaps had even weaponized in recent years is potentially giving way to a public confessional…

[miss-oranje-disco-dancer]

gimme more

pairing: joel x reader x tommy

tags/cws: sex pollen (reader is infected by it), breeding kink

summary: joel is just being a good friend by helping reader out, and tommy is just being a good brother by tag-teaming

a/n: div creds to @animatedglittergraphics-n-more

this is kind of theoretically set in jackson (AU where nothing bad happens lol), but we're going to pretend that the writer has finished tlou2 (and has not been caught up in playing silent hill) and is not just guessing about the details of jackson and such

wc: 2.2k

tags: @vaaaaaiolet @leonfucker3000 @withonly-sweetheart

You've experienced your fair share of unthinkable, inexplicable things since the outbreak began. Out of necessity, you've become familiar with the cordyceps — what it looks like, how it spreads, what the cure is (a bullet to the head). Whatever you just inhaled is not the cordyceps virus, but you feel zero relief in knowing that. You have no idea what this is and what it's going to do to you.

Joel calls out to you from above.

"Don't come down here," you yell back. "I think something's wrong."

It's the best way you can explain it.

"Then get your ass up here!" He's pissed, he's scared.

You shouldn't have been so reckless. You were stupid to think you'd find anything good in that abandoned bunker. If there was once something worth your excursion, it's long gone. Like everywhere else, it's been looted.

When Joel reaches out to help you pull yourself above ground, you can't help but notice how big his hands are, how strong he is, the way his arms flex when he pulls you up to relative safety.

"What happened down there?"

"I don't know, but I feel… weird. Something's not right with me."

"You didn't get bit did you?"

"No, it's not that. Definitely not. It's something different. When I went down there, it was like I set off some sort of alarm system, except it didn't make any noise, it just sprayed out some sort of blue smoke."

"And you inhaled it?"

"I didn't mean to."

The route back is short, but it's torture – your whole body feels like its been set on fire, and you want to keel over in pain.

"Do you need me to carry you?" Joel asks.

"No, I'm fine." You're not fine. You're out of breath, dizzy, aching for something.

Joel ignores your lies and picks you up. The minute he touches you, you know exactly what your body wants — him. You whimper at his touch — his hands aren't anywhere they shouldn't be, but your whole body feels sensitive.

"Am I hurting you?"

"No, not really… I don't know."

"Why are you whining then? Either you're hurt or you're on the edge of a fuckin' orgasm."

He laughs, but you don't.

"…Both," you admit.

He looks at his hands, making sure he's not touching you inappropriately.

"I don't understand. I'm not touching you down there, and you're not touching yourself. You got vibrating panties or somethin'?"

"I wish."

He stops. Then, in a whisper despite the fact that you're alone, asks, "Do you think it's whatever you inhaled?"

"Yeah."

"Let's hurry down to the infirmary then."

"No. There's nothing they can do for me."

"Don't say that. I'm sure it's nothin' and they'll be able to fix you up just fine."

"No, they can't. I know what I need. I can feel it."

Or at least, you hope it's what you need. You'd rather die than walk into a clinic and tell the nurse that you're so horny you think you're about to, well, die. You've made your bed and you're ready to lie in it — so long as Joel is there too.

He changes course slightly, and walks towards his house. Not much needs to be said. The look of sheer desperation in your eyes is enough. Has he dreamt about fucking you before? Maybe, but that's not why he agrees to do it. Above all else, Joel cares about you.

You don't make it to his bedroom, only to the living room couch. The curtains are drawn and Joel lives alone, so it makes little difference (minus the back pain that you'll inevitably endure from a couch rendezvous).

It's not your first time having sex, and you know it's not Joel's either, but it's the first time you've ever done this together. See, in your nighttime fantasies, he comes to you — on you, in you, for you — quite often, but in the real world, you're just close friends. The rumors that circulate are (unfortunately) not true: you're not fucking Joel. Or, you weren't. Now, you are. Now, you're tearing off your clothes because holy fuck it's hotter than it should be in April. You're feeling feverish as you help Joel strip (while he takes a minute to be awestruck by your bare body).

You're fiddling helplessly with his belt buckle like it's a brand new contraption to your hazy eyes.

"Are you sure you don't want me to get you ready first? Could go down on you…"

If someone put a gun to your head and asked you if you'd ever turn down Joel Miller offering to go down on you, you'd be dead. But despite how much you crave his mouth on your skin, you swear this thing might kill you if you wait any longer.

"I need you," is all you can muster.

"Lemme see if I can find a—"

He stands up, presumably to get a condom, but you grab him by the wrist.

"I need you," you say with more force this time.

It takes a mere glimpse of his cock — hard, throbbing in anticipation — to know that he needs you too.

"Jesus fuckin' Christ," he says when his hand reaches your glistening slit.

You let out a pathetic whimper. You're no longer in control. Whatever this toxin is, it's taken over. It needs Joel, you need Joel, it needs you to need Joel (more than you did already).

"I know, baby, I know," he soothes you as he steadies himself above you.

He slides into you with ease, buries himself to the hilt and then stops. He looks up to the ceiling, like he's about to speak to God, but all that leaves his mouth is a single word, "fuck", it comes out harsh, through gritted teeth, yet ultimately, it's his surrender.

His surrender to your needs, to your cunt that grips him like a vise and soaks him like a leaky faucet. Both of his hands hold your hips steady so he can pound into you as you beg for him to go harder, and he swears he hasn't fucked anyone like this in the last 20 years. Honestly, he's shocked his knees can handle it. He ought to have you ride him if you're so intent on controlling the pace, but then again, he doesn't trust your impulses.

Not only is he going to embarrass himself if he cums quickly, but he'll also leave you hanging. One hand moves to cover your mouth because he can't have you screaming. It takes everything in him to stifle you when you're moaning his name.

It's something between a warning and an apology. "I'm sorry, baby—I'm gonna cum." Naturally, he attempts to pull out since he's not wearing a condom, but you lock your legs around his hips and rip his hand from your mouth so you can tell him the three most important words right now, "Don't. Pull. Out."

"I don't wanna get you pregnant—"

"I want you to."

It all makes sense. "Is that what it wants?" His curiosity is piqued and the distraction of solving this puzzle keeps his orgasm at bay. "It wants me to… breed you? It's making you want me to get you pregnant?"

"Yes," you say a bit too enthusiastically. "Joel, please, I need you to."

"Need me to what?" He knows exactly what, and you can see that in the slight upward curve of his lips.

You groan in frustration — would he really be so cruel as to make you beg in a moment of crisis? Maybe.

"I need to hear you say it."

Joel could easily fill you to the brim right now, he needs to hear you beg because he'll need the memory later when he's alone, when he thinks about you. If you make it out of this situation, that is. But, fuck, if you're right, and all he really has to do is get you pregnant, there shouldn't be any problem.

"I need you to put a baby in me," you say, and while your body is still running wild in its starvation, embarrassment flashes across your face.

When Joel agrees, your orgasm overtakes you -- simply the thought is enough to make you gush all over his furniture. You thought you'd never reach your peak and be forced to teeter on the edge for the rest of your life. You hold him as close as you possibly can, forcing him deeper inside you with your legs around his hips and your arms around his back, digging your nails into his skin. He returns the sting with a bite to your neck, muffling a groan that threatens to escape him.

You're writhing against the pleasure, the overstimulation and the need for more mixing together, and Joel, melting in your arms, soothes you as best he can. His words are filthy and sweet all at once.

"It's okay, baby. I'm gonna put a baby in you, gonna get you knocked up. Don't gotta worry 'bout a thing."

When his grunts turn breathy, barely short of whimpers, you realize that he's turned on by this too. It's a blessing and a curse — his pride grapples with his arousal, fighting to keep his orgasm at bay but it's in vain. He cums inside you, and it feels like he's the one dying, and ascending to heaven (a place he never believed he'd step foot in).

You try to keep him inside you, but he insists that he has to pull out at some point.

Joel's about to put his pants on when the door swings open. At first you're afraid it's Ellie, and even though she's an adult, she's practically Joel's daughter – she's the last person who would want to see this. Who else has a key to Joel's house? you think. He's not giving them out to just anyone, even you don't have one (and you could be carrying his child).

Tommy, you realize, just as his voice echoes through the hall, calling for Joel.

"Hold on," Joel yells back, much louder than he needs to, considering the fact that there's only one wall between your naked body and an unsuspecting visitor.

Footsteps approach, and Joel gets the word "wait" halfway out of his mouth before Tommy enters the room. You all share a moment of silence before he apologizes, and excuses himself.

As he's walking towards the door, you try to pull Joel back in, telling him how badly you need him.

But he has another idea. Unconventional at best, but it's not like you're in an everyday situation anyway.

"Tommy," he says, stopping him before he leaves. "Will you do me — us — a huge favor?"

"Yeah, I won't tell anyone. Don't worry about it," he says, preemptively.

"No, no. A different favor." He peeks his head into the living room to see your miserable, desperate state.

"What's going on?"

Joel explains everything as best he can in as little time as possible. You admit, with less shame than you would otherwise, that you need someone to fuck you, and if Joel has to wait a bit to recover, it's a good thing he has a brother.

"You're sure about this?" Tommy asks.

Once you swear on your life that you are absolutely positive about this, he gives in, allows himself to indulge because ultimately, Tommy wants this too. Maybe their shared DNA influences their shared kinks, or maybe you're an attractive woman, splayed out on the couch naked and begging to be fucked.

Tommy makes quick work of his clothes, discarding them on the floor — he can sense your eagerness to have him inside you, almost as intense as his own desire.

It's not like you needed any lubricant anyway, but Joel left you even slicker than before, so Tommy slides inside you with greater ease despite being nearly as big as his brother. He's quick to lift your legs to gain greater leverage so he can up the pace of his thrusts.

You moans, despite how loud they are, do not cover up the wet sounds of Tommy fucking you.

"Are you sure you want me to cum inside you?"

"Yes, please, need you to get me pregnant," you say, throwing him for a loop. Whoops, you must've forgotten to mention that part.

He looks at you, then at Joel, in disbelief, assuming this is some sort of trick, a test, a gift — it doesn't really matter because he's too far gone to hold back.

"Fuck, I'll knock you up if that's what you really want, baby."

All you can say is "please".

"Wonder whose baby it'll be," he says, steady thrusts gaining momentum.

If he's toying with you, it's working, strange as it might be, the concept is a turn-on. It's Schrodinger's baby. You cannot be sure whose baby you're carrying -- if there is one at all -- so you can imagine it as both Joel's and Tommy's at once.

You look at Tommy, eyes half-lidded, lips parted, mind blanking. Surely, he's not having a scientific breakthrough, but maybe a transcendental experience.

Then, you look at Joel, who holds the awe of a full auditorium in his eyes, but there will be no standing ovation for your performance because he's using all of his strength to hold himself back from rushing the metaphorical stage, and one hand is busy palming his aching cock through his jeans to subdue that urge.

Tommy takes your chin, and with a sudden sternness, says, "Look at me when I cum inside you. Not him. He's not fucking you."

But when your eyes meet his, he's not the only one approaching his peak – you are going over the edge with him. You swear you might've blacked out because Tommy is already pulling out of you when you fully regain consciousness.

Once you get your bearings straight you realize something: you feel a lot better.

[tremendum]

i've got headaches and bad luck but they couldn't touch you

[not my gif. title from song Of All the Gin Joints in All the World] pairing: joel miller x fem!reader (afab, use of she/her, use of the word girl)    

rating: explicit. (18+. mdni.)      

word count: 4.6k  requested: Could you write something (literally anything really) like mean Joel x feisty Reader but based on the ancient Fall Out Boys song "Of All the Gin Joints in All the World" pretty please? 🥺🥹 I was just listening and I thought the lyrics were perfect for your writing ❤️But as always no pressure and no problem at all if you don't like the idea or anything else. Lots of love! P.S. smut is very welcome btw hihihi summary: “Joel's not one for feelings anymore, but you seem to pull them out of him like it's your goddamn job." warnings: established previous hookups, use of girl/babygirl, established age gap (unspecified but addressed openly), brief mention of oral m!receiving, brief mention of reader and joel’s canon-typical scars. choking, mean!Joel & brat tamer!Joel, brat!reader lol, dirty talk (its joel), degradation, use of the word slut, slight dumbification, spitting, rough sex, unprotected PiV, cum eating, nipple play, slapping (tits, ass). think that's it!

notes: okay finally another mean!Joel for the soul!!! this is super unedited also. tysm for the request, obv inspired by the song Of All The Gin Joints in All the World by FOB. :) this was fun and i hope yall love it! dont b afraid to request anything yall wanna read at all and as always pls comment or reblog :) love u xoxo  

[other Joel fics: mr. miller series fever landmines  ]

★  

Joel Miller isn't sure exactly when all this bullshit started. 

one day, he was introduced to you fleetingly in the cafeteria while you and Maria had an intense conversation - he’s not sure if you spoke for more than ten seconds; but months later and Joel happens to know exactly what your sweaty skin tastes like on the sharpness of his tongue and could probably list his favorite pairs of underwear you own. 

it's nothing, really. 

you patrol together often, and Joel guesses that out of all the insufferable people he's had to deal with, you're definitely not the worst. perhaps your handiness with a trigger - not nearly as inept as his own but definitely a close second - helps; or maybe it's the way your mouth feels wrapped around his cock. 

and he's not stupid; he knows exactly what Tommy was doing when he signed Joel with you for patrol - the same shit he'd been pulling since they were thirty years younger and Joel was fresh out of the relationship with Sarah's mom. but it's different now, because life is not the same - nothing is the same. 

Joel's not one for feelings anymore, but you seem to pull them out of him like it's your goddamn job. 

you are one talkative motherfucker; usually, that'd drive Joel up a wall, but after repeated and incessant exposure to Ellie for such an extended period, his patience has surprisingly grown.

and unlike others, you never acted nervous or scared by him. irritated, maybe, but it's not like he cares much if you get irritated by his attitude; you're worse than he can be.

at first, he thought you were just fucking him because you just didn't know who he really was yet. but months into whatever this shit is, and you're still - for whatever fucking reason - hanging around him, even after everything. he likes it, though, that you fight fire with fire.

and maybe that's why Tommy stuck you two together, because in some ways it was inevitable - maybe it was a good thing, Joel thinks. 

but this morning, as Joel's mind slams against his body, jolting him awake, his aching head makes him double-guess that.

it's weird how different it all is now - before you, Joel was tortured through nights plagued with sweats and memories. blood, pain, loss. he used to dream restlessly of life and all of its unforgiving horrors; but now, to his shock, he finds himself plagued with dreams of you. 

he gasps awake - he's not sure he'll ever stop that. 

but this time, you're next to him in the bed. his skin feels warm as the light filters through the blinds that stay constantly pulled down this time of year to retain the cool air and Joel lets out a shuttered sigh, his head aching.

it's only the second time you've stayed the night. he's never stayed at yours, god forbid - but a small part of him aches this morning when you slide out of his heavy, sleep-addled muscles. in the absence of your heat there is still bliss for a moment, until he's roused fully by your voice. 

"these sheets are dirty." the sound carries into his ears, melodic and fiery. he cracks one eye open, hand raising to rub over his face - a deep, tired sigh. 

"g'mornin' to you too." he snarks, sighing as he pulls himself on aching muscles to blink his eyes open; you stand over the bed, on the side that usually remains cold an empty while Joel thrashes in fits of restless sleep. there's not a single scrap of clothing on your body.  

he feels himself stir at the sight of you, naked, neck painted in a splattering of beautiful marks that'd been pulled forth in moments of ecstasy the night before.

you send him a half smirk, shrugging as you tug on a shirt - his, fuck, his stomach swirls at the sight of you wrapped in him. something primal crawls in his chest as you smile at him, legs almost glowing in their bareness as they knock against the side of the mattress. your fingers brush the fabric to the left of his head. 

"there's stains on the pillows." you shake your head, your face alluring in its tease. he feels himself roll his eyes as he grunts, "you're actin' like it ain't your makeup stainin' it?" 

he stares at the marks on the pillowcase; black, from that shit you sometimes put on your eyes which just makes them all the more beautiful, wide, and alluring. the makeup that's surely expired after all this time but still is something you like to do to, as you'd mentioned once, 'reclaim your humanity.' whatever.

Joel would never admit it to you, but he hadn't even really tried to wash out those stains; something about them gives him a warmth in his chest every morning that he wakes up in this cold bed. 

but when his eyes fall back to you in your silence, you smirk and it hits him: you're fucking teasing him.

he glares at you as your lips curl in a huff of a laugh, shaking your head. "if you keep complainin' about every damn thing, might as well just fuck you on the floor." he mutters, mostly to himself-  but also to see the way your thighs shift, eyes widening slightly as color washes your cheeks. you're squirming at his words, just like that - oh, he's got you pinned.

you'd like that, you dirty little thing.

but you regain your composure quicker than lightning, ready to snap back; yet another tally to add on the list of things he admires about you.

"you're such a gentleman, Miller." you snide, fanning yourself sardonically with one hand as you roll your eyes, searching for your underwear. 

he remembers the first time you'd said that to him -

"why so shy?" you'd purred. the memory of your voice curls around his ears as he huffs, watching you bend over and give him a complete view of your ass as you fetch your panties from the floor.  "c'mon, Joel, you don't need to be such a gentleman. 's nothing you haven't seen before." you'd stripped yourself of your shirt, your pert nipples pebbling in the cold breeze as he'd sat, cleaning his rifle. "the hell's the matter with you?" he'd grumbled; but it didn't stop either of you. you'd been pressed between him and the splitting backseat of the broken down crashed car within seconds, anyways. 

his eyes meet yours as you stand again. 

he snarks, "well you’re givin' me a headache, an' I've only been up for two minutes." he glares at you, swinging to pull his boxers over his hips, standing up to find his shirt. he pointedly ignores the glare you send him at his grumpiness. 

"you're the one acting dumb," you mutter, "acting like I'm the one who gives you headaches." you retort, a teasing glint in your eye; he knows that look. Joel knows you'd never get a headache from him - as much as he pisses you off, he knows you're too fiery, too lucky to get caught up in whatever miserable puddle he's drowning in. 

because Joel's bad luck curls around his fists wherever he goes; the talons reaching out, crawling through every hallway and seeping through every door. you, on the other hand, are like a goddamn firecracker. Joel hates the idea, but you're... somehow gifted in that way.

he's convinced his bad luck couldn't touch you if it tried. 

no matter the dumb shit you pull - forgetting a flashlight, not flipping off your safety that one moment when the clicker had stumbled out of the brush; all of that, and you escape unscathed, nothing but a giggle and a half-shrug from you before you move on to the next stupid thing. 

if you weren't such a goddamn brat, it'd be charming. 

his eyes snap to yours as your words fall from your lips; a burning in his chest at your tone. he watches your legs carry you into his bathroom, and he can't help it when his follow yours.

you haven't even flipped on the lights before he shuts the door behind him - you're already wearing that snarky fucking smile on your face, and he's straining already against his boxers.

he stares down at you, crowding you slowly into the wall. "what the fuck did you just say to me?" he hisses, mouth close to yours. as you turn your chin up towards his face, he can tell that you try your hardest to control your smirk, playing into the tense energy that's emanating from his chest. 

"I said you're acting dumb."

you repeat, tilting your head slightly as you drink in the darkness in his eyes. lord, you'd let that darkness swallow you in a fucking heartbeat. 

speaking of; your own heartbeat thunders in your chest, anticipating. you know what's coming, you can nearly taste it on your tongue. 

"oh, 's that right?" Joel asks, tilting his head to stare down at you. you swallow as you stare back into those deep irises, the small bit of golden light that shines through the small bathroom window illuminating in an ominously heavenly ray.

his hand settles on the crook of your shoulder and neck, sliding gently upwards as you nod your head defiantly, pushing as far as you can to see when he'll snap. his eyes glisten in temptation; daring you to act up more. 

raising your brows, you try to play like it's obvious, "waking up and complaining about your headaches, old man?" you tut gently, shaking your head innocently. "I don't think it's my fault that you fucked me twice, immediately passed out and now your head hurts when you've woken up the next morning. you know better than to push yourself in your old age, Joel. that's stupid." you add coyly, knowing it'll push him over the edge - he loves it when you act like a brat, no matter how much he denies it. 

his response is immediate and exactly what you'd hoped for. 

he's on you in a split second - hand sliding from your shoulder to grip your throat, pushing you back onto the wall of the bathroom. the towel bar digs into your middle-back slightly and you gasp in arousal at the force of his body on yours. you can feel his cock, hard and straining in his boxers, as it presses into your lower stomach. 

"y'wanna play like that, baby?" he growls, "why you fuckin' around with an old man like me, then?" he asks.

your face heats up, arousal flooding your core, your cunt slowly wetting itself at the purr of his voice - the meaner the words, the larger the flame. 

"hm?" he gently pushes, raising his brows as his hand squeezes gently on your throat, nudging you against the wall further; your gasp is slightly rasped under the pressure, your whole body screaming with desire. this is what you love - mean, angry, hungry Joel Miller. "'s it because nobody fucks you like I do, is that it?"

his knee slides between yours, wedging himself high up, rubbing suddenly against your aching pussy, the material of your cotton already soaked with a damp spot that rubs against his thick thigh. 

"Joel, fuck-" you groan, already willing to just do what you can to get him to touch you. his hand on your throat tightens at your word, thigh rutting up to slide against your needy clit, your hips bucking at the feeling. "-'s because nobody else is so easy." your fiery mouth betrays your body; the snarky comment snaps his eyes to yours, a dark breath leaving his lips. 

"that's ironic," he snaps, "comin' from someone who begged me to fuck them for hours." 

your face burns at the memory of the first time you and Joel'd hooked up; your desperate voice hoarse from pleading him to fuck you - out in the middle of the woods, a sleeping bag that, by the end, had rips on it from rocks and twigs and the force of his thrusts; the shyness gone from either of you as your touches made up for all the silence between you.

he hums lowly, watching you as you swallow at the memory, his thigh rutting up again and pulling a yelp of pleasure from your lips. "y'don't feel so high 'n mighty when I fuck you stupid, right baby?" he asks, voice dripping with condescendence as he nods gently, encouraging you to answer him. your core throbs at his words, your mouth going dry. 

his hand leaves your throat; you swallow a gulp of air, staring with wide eyes as he grasps your jaw roughly. "answer me." 

"n-no, I don't." you mutter, voice sounding small; the arousal that pulses through your veins begs your mouth to be smart, do what Joel says so he'll give in to what you want. 

he smirks, hands roughly grabbing the thick of your hips and flipping you around to press you against the counter, your hips bending as he shoves himself just behind you. your eyes meet yourself and his own hawkish gaze in the mirror in front of you; your heated breath fogs up the mirror in the faint morning light. 

his fingers thread through your hair, tugging you back again as he tilts your head back. his upside down face, smirking down at you, has your thighs clenching - "open." he orders, voice stern. 

your tongue sticks out and he wastes no time spitting roughly onto your tongue, moving your head back to stare into the mirror; his eyes meet yours as his spit slides over your tongue and his furrowed brows twitch with a slight smirk. "look at you, doin' what I tell you. now swallow it and say thank you." 

your core flutters at his words deliciously as you do as you're told; swallowing, you take a breath and mutter, "thank you," - though it's more breathless than you expected, Joel seems to approve. he hums, "there are those manners," he mutters into your ear, cock pressing against the swell of your ass. "almost seemed like you'd forgotten you had them." 

"didn't forget." you mutter, face heating up as your pussy aches, fluttering around nothing and desiring for his fingers, his cock - anything. 

one rough palm slides his shirt up your torso, exposing your bare tits to both of you through the mirror. with his face stooped down near your neck, a short inhale of your hair before his hand reaches it's destination - your throat. 

"then why're you actin' up?" he rasps, teeth grazing your shoulder. he squeezes his hand again and your eyes roll back in pleasure, arousal soon slicking your thighs as you think you may die from all the teasing. "you don't wanna cum?" 

your eyes widen, breath halting as you shake your head, "wh- no- no!" you hiss, "I do want to cum, please." 

his other hand raises, slapping your breast harsh and quick; your gasp of shock tapers off into a whine of pleasure, your nipples hard in arousal as his palm comes to soothe over the sting. 

"then why're you acting like this?" he asks again, shaking his head. another slap, this time to your other breast. his eyes follow the skin of your chest; the way you gasp, your whines at the slight stinging and the pleasure that follows. fingers pinch your nipples, teasing in circles before another sharp slap echoes through the room. "just a little brat, y'can't help yourself." he decides, biting on your neck lightly. 

you can feel him rut against you hard, grinding his hips as he lets out a short groan. you let out a low moan, whining slightly when he smacks your tits again, skin glowing with the impact. his eyes meet yours in the mirror. "quit the whinin'," he grunts, rutting his hard cock against your ass, "you'll be stuffed full of me soon enough." he grunts, "then we'll see who's dumb." 

your shaky moan sounds more like a groan, elbows falling to steady yourself as Joel releases your throat, tossing you forward to grab your hips instead. he pulls you back, grinding into you as his head tilts back in how own small groan of pleasure. "this ass." Joel grunts to himself as he palms the curve of your ass in both large hands, one falling to smack harsh onto the left. 

you're dripping down the inside of your thighs as he ruts against you twice more; thick fingers soon slide to thumb at the slick wet of your panties. his fingers tease the wet material that's glued to your pussy with need, tracing over your lips lightly over the fabric. "pretty pussy, just for me." he mutters; you nod, looking up at him through the mirror, "all for you, Joel." you affirm, voice shaking with anticipation. 

"you gonna be good when I fill you up, baby?" he lifts his brow, stern look as he palms himself. fuck, he's so sexy behind you like this, his thumb slowly dragging the material of your panties to the side and exposing your weeping cunt; you nod, "yes, I'll do anything-" 

you're cut off by a sharp gasp as the stretch of his cock's head cuts off your brain. he eases in gently at first which you're more than grateful for - no matter how many times Joel fucks you, his size is always something you have to adjust to; especially after your rounds last night left you barely able to walk straight. 

he lets out a breath, "there y'go, baby, take me." he says it surprisingly gently, easing in inch by inch as you breathe deeply, your soaked pussy easing his cock through your channels. his cock is heavy and aching as he slides into you, sheathing you fully within another few seconds - Joel's hands grip so hard on your ass, splaying you open for him, that you think his fingers will remain there for days. 

he's still only for a moment, letting you accommodate to his size before he's leaning forward to press his chest to your back, "gonna fuck you stupid, baby." 

"please, Joel," you groan, cunt fluttering, begging him to move. "do it." 

it's all that he needs before he's setting a pace that has you whining under him, your breath choking as you brace yourself agains the counter of the sink. 

it's bliss. his hips are sharp, the reach of his cock pressing against the spongy spot inside you, dragging against your pulsing walls. "fuck, so deep-" you hiss, eyes closing in pleasure as he presses himself against you, hips surely going to bruise against the thrusts that shove you into the countertop. 

one hand sneaks over your front, grasping at your tits as his cock reaches up into you deeply. he lets out a grunt, "fuckin'- christ, you're s-so tight," he grunts, "even after fuckin' you all night." 

you moan, the quick bout of his praise causing you to squeeze around him, trapping him in your aching desire. the both of you moan at the feeling and suddenly one hand presses on your spine until you're low to the counter. his hands grab your shoulders, fingers curling around the base of your throat as he changes his pace to hard and rough, the sound of your ass against his hips nearly hitting your ears over your cries of pleasure. 

the noises of your arousal swallowing his cock echo around the room in a familiar, comforting chorus as you both let out shuttering moans; his strong arms pull you back until you're once again pressed against his broad chest. his breath fans over your neck and you whine slightly when his thrusts press you up onto your tip-toes. his lips find your ear, "how's that feel?" your hole flutters from the deepness in his voice - he groans at the feeling. 

your response is a whine of ecstasy as you claw at his forearms, head tilting back until you can almost feel his erratic heartbeat. his chest rumbles with a light chuckle, "look, barely took ya any time to get fucked out on my cock," he praises, hand petting your wild hair, "knew you'd be good for me. always take what I give you, right?" 

you nod, desperate to reach the climax that's easily built within you from the stretch of him deep in you and his voice in your ear. your clit aches from being ignored and your hand snakes down to rub light circles on it; your hips jolt as you gasp raggedly, eyes fluttering shut in pleasure. 

"no." he growls, hand grabbing your jaw sternly as he pounds into you, "when I'm fuckin' you, you keep your eyes on me." he snaps, squeezing your cheeks. "'s that clear?"

you nod in the mirror, whines getting louder as his name falls nearly incoherently from your lips- you see his lips ghost over your neck, the smirk that spreads over his pink lips as you finally get out a strangled, "Joelpleaseplease- s'close-" 

he knows what you need; you and Joel are each other's best escape. he pistons into you hard, chasing your high as he feels it spasming close around him. "easy, huh?" he snarls, hips just as harsh as his words, eyes sharp on yours. "who's easy, baby - me, or the one beggin' like a slut to cum on my cock?" 

for someone so quiet and closed off, Joel Miller has never shied away from using his goddamn words when he's fucking you, that's for sure. his words, his accent - they push you towards the edge and it almost distracts you from his question. his eyebrows raise in the silence as you gasp for words, moans choked  as his fingers slide down from your jaw to squeeze your throat. 

"look at'cha, can't even speak for me," he groans, his hand suddenly snaking down to smack your away from your clit; two larger, calloused fingers replace your shaky ones and you wail at the stimulation, almost too much.

you blink up at him through the mirror, unable to speak, unable to think as you feel the crest of something incredibly blissful growing; you let out a whine of ecstasy. "I'm- I'm easy," you concede, finally able to spit your words out, your voice higher than normal in your pleasure. 

Joel nods, kissing your sweaty hairline, "'s goddamn right you are, babygirl," he hisses, "easy for me. this pretty little pussy is mine, isn't it?" 

you scream, "yours, Joel-" before he barely finishes the sentence.

with your words, he smiles against your neck - the feeling of it sends goosebumps over your whole torso. "you're a lucky girl," he growls in your ear, teeth brushing the shell before licking it gently, "you can cum." 

you barely realize you've hit your orgasm until you’re writhing - a white-hot, searing arousal streaking your vision as your eyes roll back. he fucks you steadily through your orgasm, your thighs closing slightly around his large palm, but his fingers don't stop their motions on your clit. 

you shake and stutter for gasps as he pounds into you, chasing his own high that's been spurred - by your own words or the clenching of your orgasm around him, you're unsure. 

"love how you feel-" he groans, voice weakening as he nears his own orgasm, hips sloppy as he pushes your face down, against the cool tile of the bathroom sink. "fuck, baby, made to take this cock." 

his sentences are choppy, his gasps and grunts of pleasure mixing with the slap of your ass against him as he thrusts, your legs tired as he fills you full and then suddenly pulls out. you gasp at the suddenness of his absence, turning to look at him as if betrayed - but he looks completely gone, eyes dark with need. "gonna cum on your tits, sweetheart." 

your stomach flips at the word - one he's never used before - and you relax into his harsh grip, moving down to the ground on your knees as he grunts, "take this shit off now." 

his shirt is on the ground in half a second, your breasts bare to him as he fists his cock, eyes on you and lidded with pleasure. your hands fall onto his strong thighs, looking up at him in awe as he fists his cock, slick with your sticky spend, tip flushed and veins stretching over the shaft. "please, cum on me, want it so bad, Joel," you whine - his hand caresses your jaw and slips over your lips, sticking his thumb into your mouth. you suck eagerly and he moans your name deep, head tilting back in ecstasy. 

"fuck," he grunts, slipping his thumb out of your mouth before you can even swirl your tongue around it, and then he's hitting his orgasm.

ropes of his cum land on your tits, a small bit gathering on your chin as he slows his hand, letting out a few sharp breaths. he's barely caught his breath before your fingers are gathering a swipe of his thick cum, bringing it to your mouth. his dark eyes follow you through his labored breaths as you slowly suck his spend off of your fingers, "fuckin'- pretty," he mumbles into his hand as he runs a palm over his face, shaking his head. 

you smile, cheeks heating up. the sun is rising and the room is fully golden, bouncing off the mirror and illuminating his tan skin, the scars on his body and yours. he's pretty, you realize. 

you tell him so, quietly - in the silence of the bathroom. his scowl softens and you swear you see a blush forming as he rolls his eyes down at you from where you perch on the linoleum. 

Joel always says you only tell him sweet things to get him to fuck you - but in the afterglow of your actions, you catch sight of your makeup-stained pillowcase back in Joel's bedroom and it makes you grin. you know he doesn't wash it for a reason, the same reason you keep coming back to him. 

and you also know that the way he smooths his thumb over your hairline, the way your own hands in turn soothe over his thighs - those actions, they make up for everything else that's unspoken.

.·:*¨༺ ༻¨*:·..·:*¨༺ ༻¨*:·..·:*¨༺ ༻¨*:

taglist: @satansgoatt @elissaaa @queerponcho @bbyanarchist @lapricot @umavvitch @asreadbyaj @dinsbaby @cottoncandytomu @onmytallesttiptoess @switchbladedreamz @missannwinchester @abs-2020 @afandomidiot @cosm1c-babe @rogersbarnesxx @carleenphillips-blog @bonnibuckets @nightlovechild @jazzyspasms @girlboybug @cannolighost @pastelnap @userpedros @feministfanboi @frogers @grhowls @daddy-din @gothoppered @totallynotastanacc @robbatlover @casssiopeia @wannab-urs @redhotkitchen @joelapologist2001 @silkiers

message me if i forgot to tag u. i was pretty lazy with this one sorry. requests are open.

.·:*¨༺ ༻¨*:·..·:*¨༺ ༻¨*:·..·:*¨༺ ༻¨*:

[1moreff-creator]

Who do you think will survive the killing game??? ( also if you were already asked this my B )

:D

Hi! Don’t worry, I don’t think I’ve ever talked about it, so I had to give it some thought :p It’s an interesting question, so let’s see!

As a TL;DR, my “most likely,” in order and assuming a standard killing game formula (obviously the amount of survivors could be way different), are Teruko - J - Whit - Rose - Levi

Spoilers up to CH2 EP15

Of course, there’s one character that’s already kinda locked in as a survivor (assuming a more or less standard fangan ending and not an “everyone dies” sorta situation), and that’s Teruko. While there were theories about a possible protag switch post-LGI release, I’ve never found them particularly believable, and I don’t really think they’re very popular anymore.

The next character that’s basically a survivor already is Min, because if I never accept her death, she will always be alive in my books. /j

Yeah honestly after Teruko my confidence on survivor guesses drops dramatically, since there’s obviously no good way to tell.

Still, one character that particularly stands out to me is J. I have my reasons to believe she might become the primary support character a la Kirigiri, and while that doesn’t guarantee survival, I’d say it ups the chances a bit.

As to why I believe that… well here’s the thing. I’m kinda planning to make a mastermind probability ranking post after CH2 ends, and I’ll talk about my predictions for J in more detail there. As a result, I’d just be repeating myself if I talk about it here. So, I'll give you the quick rundown and leave the more detailed explanation for that post.

Basically, I believe the core theme of DRDT is the concept of “fate” and the possibility of change, where the big climax for Teruko’s character arc in particular (the single most important arc for the narrative, protag privilege) will be rejecting the notion that she’s fated to have bad luck forever. She already talked about it with Xander before he stabbed her, and her primary character foil, David, “covered” Literature Girl Insane. You don’t exactly give that song to a character who is very hopeful for a better future. Even Teruko’s trust issues are born from the belief her bad luck makes betrayal inevitable. And with Ace talking about how he’s “a coward who couldn’t fight his fate” (paraphrased), the connection seems more solid than ever.

J is important in that context because her entire character is sorta designed around the concept of rejecting fate, the thing Teruko needs to “learn to do” as it were. J was born into stardom and fame, born “lucky” (LGI numeral number seven symbolism go brr), but hides it and rejects her birthright down to her secret quote, “Please don’t call me your daughter ever again.” If Charles and Eden are the ones who are trying to get Teruko to trust again, I see J as the one who has the best shot at convincing her that she’s not doomed by the universe itself, giving her the best shot at survival out of any non-protag imo.

Also, silly yet existent argument: the CH1 title screen had Teruko (and Xander), the CH2 had J. Is it possible the survivors will each be featured in one screen? Probably not, but still.

The next one’s Whit. DRDT seems committed to explore its characters as much as possible before they die (which I think we all agree is awesome), and that means those that haven’t been fully explored or developed yet have a higher chance of a late run, thus a higher chance of survival. This applies to J and Rose somewhat, but it applies to Whit especially. I sometimes feel that we know more about Mai Akasaki than we do about Whit, which should tell you something.

Contrast that to Charles, who is absolutely dying sometime soon (imo). Even ignoring the “Charles dead at three” Whit comment from the prologue, Charles’ character arc is a little too complete for me to think it’s likely he stays ‘till the end. After we close out the Elliot subplot (which could easily be in CH3 given Elliot’s MV is already out), killing Charles off would be a good way to really kickstart Whit’s inevitable Breakdown Arc.

Final points to consider about Whit are the fact that luck is mentioned in his character bio, which along with J’s LGI numeral VII and Teruko being Teruko gives him an extra connection to the two survivors I’ve pointed out; and the possibility of him being the mastermind. Again something for the MM post, but put briefly; he’s not a bad mastermind guess, but I think it’s very likely that if he is, he won’t survive, so there’s that.

The next one might be Rose? Recap foil with J, so if the dev wants to explore that to its fullest, Rose will probably make a late run at least. There’s a lot to explore with her character too, but frankly that’s a bit of a moot point; every character in DRDT has a lot to explore.

Even if she’s one of, if not the best pick for mastermind imo, it’s very possible she can be the type of MM to be redeemed and survive alongside the cast. Again, details will probably have to wait for the mastermind post :v Hate to be saying that so much, but understandably given some of the reasoning is similar, a lot of good MM guesses are good survivor guesses.

As for the fifth most likely… well, this is the reason this post took me a week (this and I was busy :v). See, if you’d asked me during the hiatus, I would have said Ace. Obviously, that wouldn’t have aged very well now would it?

The ask was sent a bit after Ep14, and by the time I got some free time to write this, it was already Wednesday and anything I said about Ace or Eden could have very realistically been proven wrong in just a few days, so I decided to hold off until culprit reveal. And now that Ace is looking like the blackened, I’m pretty glad I did.

This does bring up a curious issue of gender balance. In theory, there’s nothing stopping DRDT’s survivor cast from leaning one way or the other, but generally survivor casts do try to keep it as equal as possible. And with three women already listed, even putting Nico here would cause an imbalance. But the thing is… I don’t see almost any of the men surviving?

Hence, Levi. I frankly have no clue where his character is going with the recent reveals and the fact Ace is dying soon; I could just as easily see him as the second CH3 victim (if there are two) or fulfilling “buff character curse” by dying in 4. But… not knowing where someone’s arc is going is kinda the reason Whit is up there, so I’m using the same reasoning. It’s my least confident guess, so yeah. He’d certainly be an interesting survivor at least, I wonder how he’d play off the mastermind in trial 6.

To quickly cover the other characters, I’ll go in order of least likely to survive to most likely. Excusing the dead, of course.

-Ace: He’s technically still alive, but, uh… uh…

-David: If he were to survive, he’d need to go on a near identical arc to Teruko, which is… hard to imagine properly working. He’ll make a late run, probably, but I can’t see him reaching the sixth.

-Charles: Already explained.

-Arturo might be a little too insane to work. It’s hard to imagine a sixth trial with Arturo of all damn people around. Especially if J’s there.

And… those are kinda all the guesses I have for who is (in my belief) 100% dying. I could actually see every other character being a survivor :v

-Veronika runs into the same issue as Arturo; it’d be hard to let the mastermind do MM stuff when this girl’s there simping for them. However, I could see a world where dev keeps her for the psychoanalysis of the MM… kinda. Frankly, she should be in the “no chance” list, but… she’s my favorite alongside Min so let me have hope!-

-Nico has the advantage that they’re the only way to make a cast of 5 survivors perfectly balanced in terms of boys and girls; two of each and Nico. But that’s not very strong. The main issue is that I don’t really know what could happen with them in the remaining chapters that would advance their character to a point they’re a survivor, if that makes sense. Maybe if Rose makes it?

-Hu is weird. From what we’ve seen in the series, she would make a pretty compelling survivor. But… her secret quote…

Hu: I want to pay for what I’ve done. But even then, I still want to live.

Like, that’s the most “blackened” line in history; do you wanna state your victim’s name while you’re at it? Part of me wants to say that’s too obvious and the line will have a different context, but… it’s a secret quote in the source code of her character page. It’s not that obvious to anyone who follows the series more casually.

-Eden: I could see the argument of Eden>Rose (and therefore Eden>Levi as he’s only there due to gender balancing), since our favorite Clockmaker is quite easy to imagine in a final trial setting. The main issue is that… assuming a more or less standard formula, it’d be sorta weird to have someone in the sixth trial who can out-hope speech the protag, and Eden definitely fits that bill. It’s possible she makes it, especially given her involvement in the pre-prologue scene with Xander’s eye, but idk.

Here are a few extra survivor configurations I could see happening! Obviously there’s plenty more, so watch absolutely none of them be right.

Teruko-J-Whit-Eden-Levi/Nico (Teruko MM or dead MM with no “two victims” case)

Teruko-J-Rose/Eden-Levi/Nico (Whit MM)

Teruko-Whit-Rose-Nico (J MM)

Teruko-J-Whit-Hu (Veronika MM)

Teruko-Whit-J-Rose/Eden-Levi-Min?!?! (Min MM)

Teruko-Rose-Eden-Whit-Levi/Nico-Min (Baking Squad Cope!!!)

Teruko-J-Whit-Veronika-Levi/Nico (Why not?)

Everyone (The only right answer)

Thanks a lot for the ask! Fun to ramble about this series lol.

[tjlnn22]

An Analyis of the Ending of "The Killing Joke"

This scene is one I've wanted to get my thoughts written out on for a while and one of the most interesting in all of DC comics from how important it is to understanding both the characters of Batman and the Joker.

So, this scene is the finale of the oneshot comic "The Killing Joke" By Alan Moore, and is directly preceeded by Batman once again foiling the Joker's evil plan, beating him both verbally and physically before then kicking him to the ground to seemingly knock him out.

For what then follows, I will post the full comic pages so you can absorb the scene first.

Ah, the infamous cutaway that leaves the ending so open to interpretation. But what exactly does all of this mean? Well, I'll give my interpretation:

The scene starts in the same way as many other fights between Batman and Joker have concluded. Joker gets defeated, Batman saves the day, the clown prince of crime will get chucked back into Arkham until he inevitably breaks out once again, and then they'll do the whole thing over. "You know, I think you and I are destined to do this forever", that's how their story always goes. However, this time things are different.

This time, Batman doesn't beat Joker senseless, even though cosnidering what Joker spent that evening doing to his friends and family, he would richly deserve a good beating by anyone's estimation. Joker expects that of Batman as well, and he accepts the beating and re-imprisonment that he's sure is coming his way, because that's how it's always been. And yet instead, this time Batman chooses to talk with him. He tells Joker the facts of the situation, that despite everything, he actually doesn't WANT to hurt him, and knows that if they keep going down their current path, one of them will eventually kill the other. Batman knows it, and he knows that Joker knows it too, and he doesn't want that to be the case, because above everything else Batman values preserving human life as a goal equal to and often greater than stopping crime. He doesn't want to kill Joker, it would go against everything he stands for, but he knows with every encounter they share that possibiltiy grows more and more likely.

In a similar fashion, the Joker doesn't actually want to kill Batman either. Despite how he may play the part of wanting otherwise, the entire story of the comic up until this point has been about Joker trying to prove a point to Batman. That deep down, everyone can become him, that all it takes is one bad day to turn even the most moral man alive into the Joker. whether this is because Joker genuinely believes this, or it is meant to simply justify and excuse who he himself became from his own tragedy, is never really confirmed, though it is most likely a bit of both.

Either way, we see that Joker is not happy at all by Batman attempting to talk to him instead of beating him. In fact, he's practically sulking. Now, is this due to the fact that his big plan just failed, sure, at least partly. However, there is something else going on as well. All of Joker's plans fail sooner or later, this is no exception. It's something he expects despite coming up with a new one every week. This time though, he genuinely looks depressed, and this is in part due to Batman breaking the magic of their routine. By speaking to him like anyone else, by reaching out to Joker, Batman is attempting to fundamentally change their relationship forever. Batman wants it to end, he doesn't want to keep fighting Joker until it kills one of them, he wants Joker to stop. But Joker doesn't want to stop, he doesn't want Batman to die or stop chasing him because the relationship he has with Batman is all he has left. He has no real friends, no goals outside of plans to mess with Batman more, he has nothing outside of his role as Batman's arch enemy, and he knows it.

And yet, despite all that, when Batman genuinely reaches out to him, appeals to the fact that their lives were both heavily affected by past tragedies and offers Joker help to try and move past that, to be better, even after all the atrocities he's committed, despite all that... Joker actually seems to consider his offer. We can see this by his hesitation, and the fact that he doesn't just laugh it off right away or make fun of Batman as he would any other time.

This time, Joker seems to consider the offer, and turns dead serious in a moment that is probably the most normal display of genuine human emotion we get from him, and he tells Batman that he's sorry. Joker genuinely apologizes for not being able to take Batman up on his offer, looking like he's about to cry as he declares that it's far too late for him to take any offer Batman could give him.

The question is, why? Why is this time so different, why does Joker seem to actually consider Batman's offer and reject it in such a human manner? Well, I truly believe the answer is clearly seen in the joke that the conversation with Batman reminds him of. I will go through it line by line and give my interpretation.

"See, there were these two guys locked in a lunatic asylum" I think this obviously is referring to Batman and Joker. They are the characters of this joke/story, the conversation between them reminded Joker of this joke (or he just came up with it on the spot to suit their situation, but regardless) and they are also the only two characters in the panel where that line is said. In this case, the 'asylum' in question would be their rivalry, their roles as Batman and Joker and everything that comes along with that. Makes sense, none of the things either of them do in those roles are things that normal, sane people do, and both of them were traumatized in their lives by horrible events and spiraled into becoming the Batman and Joker because of it.

"And one night, one night they decide they don't like living in an asylum anymore, they decide they're going to escape." This is a clear metaphor for ending their roles as Batman and Joker, perhaps just for that particular rivalry or all together. Escaping the asylum means returning to the normal, happy lives they had before their trauma. Batman has already stated he wants to end his fighting with Joker, however the fact that both men in the story wish to leave the asylum together implies that Joker also secretly wants that too, which is very interesting as we go on.

"So like, they get up onto the roof, and there, just across this narrow gap, they see the rooftops of the town, stretching away in the moonlight, stretching to freedom." Given that Joker is looking at the moon shining over Gotham as he says this, I think it's clear that the 'freedom' here is living a normal human life the same way all the civilians of Gotham try to every day. It's about having a chance to be better, to do better and make something of your life everyday beyond the endless cycle that he and Batman are trapped in with each other. As long as that cycle exists, they can never truly be free, even though the Joker can break out of Arkham whenever he wants and do practically whatever he wants until Batman stops him. Their rivalry prevents either of them from ever being free.

"Now the first guy, he jumps right across with no problem. But his friend, his friend daredn't make the leap. Y'see, y'see he's afraid of falling." This is where we see Joker differentiate himself and Batman in the story, and how their situations in life currently exist. Batman is the first guy who is able to escape the asylum and return to the city fairly easily, whenever he desires. This is because that, unlike Joker, Batman has his life as Bruce Wayne to live and fall back onto. He has many friends and a large family both adopted and biological who rely on him and give him something good and happy to live for. He can leave the asylum because he sees the light on the other side, he has hope and knowledge that things will turn out alright if he does. But Joker does not. Joker doesn't have another life to live, no family and no friends to fall back on and lift him up. All his life consists of is the asylum and Batman, the other man right along with him. He knows nothing else, and so it seems impossible for him to ever jump across to the other side and join Batman in freedom.

However, it goes beyond that. Joker isn't scared to leave the asylum because it's all he knows, in fact he's just as eager to leave it with Batman. What he is afraid of though, is FALLING as he jumps across. What does falling mean in this case? Well since escaping the asylum would mean ditching the roles of Batman and Joker and returning to a normal life, falling would be failing to do just that, failing so hard that it sends him plummeting right back down, either to death or to being left alone and away from the safety of the asylum and more importantly the companionship of Batman. if he falls but Batman doesn't, he'll be left lost and alone, pointless and forgotten, and that's what Joker fears by leaving the asylum.

"So then the first guy has an idea. He says 'Hey! I have my flashlight with me! I'll shine it across the gap between the buildings. You can walk across the beam and join me!" This part of the metaphor I believe is meant to represent Batman's offer of help to the Joker, the therapy/rehabilitation that's intended to help him get better. In this case though, the help is being represented by something that has little actual effect. You can't walk across a beam of light to cross over to another building, in the joke it's only meant to stop the second guy's fear of falling. It isn't actually a real bridge to freedom, just an illusion of one that Joker thinks Batman is giving him.

However, than we get to the punchline.

"B-but the second guy shakes his head. He suh-says, he says, 'wh-what do you think I am? Crazy? You'd turn it off when I was halfway across!"

And here we get the real reason why Joker can't take Batman's offer, why he can't join him in freedom outside of the asylum. It isn't because he doesn't think the help Batman is offering him would work. The beam of light not being a real bridge to walk across isn't the problem in his eyes. The problem, is that believes that if he tried to walk across it, Batman would shut it off and let him fall. Because what Joker is truly scared of, isn't that the help Batman's offering him wouldn't work, he's scared that the help might actually have a chance at working, that he may have a way to get out of the asylum for good, but that Batman will give up on him before he reaches the other side.

He's afraid that the only person in the world who genuinely cares about him and wants to help him, will end up giving up on him and forgetting him if he tries to get better. We can see that in the way Joker delivers the punchline, turned around to stare directly into Batman's face with a disturbed, crushing smile of realization on his face while the symbol of freedom that is Gotham, bathed in the light of the moon sits directly behind him, just out of reach. He's accusing/telling Batman of why he's afraid, that he could never trust him enough to actually try and rehabilitate him, and he's laughing because he knows there's no way out of this.

And Batman, once the joke finally hits him, realizes the exact same thing. He knows then that Joker will never actually be able to be helped, there is nothing he can do for him because Joker will never trust him enough to let himself be helped. There is no way out of this for them now that Batman's final appeal to peace has been turned down by a man to broken to realize it was his way to a better life, a free life.

And so, knowing now how their story will end, Batman does the one thing that Joker always wanted from him, and breaks his role as Batman for just a moment. He shares in a final laugh with Joker as he puts his hands on his shoulders, up by Joker's neck, and the two laugh and laugh together until the scene cuts away and their laughter cuts off equally as quick.

Now, did Batman kill Joker here? The single question everyone tends to ask when they read this scene. Now, canonically we know that, no, Batman does not kill him, Joker returns again and again after this, but in this case I do fully believe that the creator of this comic, Alan Moore (the same man who wrote Watchmen), did likely intend for that to be the ending. The fact that the scene opens with Batman acknowledging that their relationship will end in death, and that the only way out of that is for Joker to accept his proposal I think seals the intent of the ending pretty well. Joker Can't accept his proposal, because the trust between them that would be necessary for that is something that could never truly be built up as they exist in their roles as Batman and Joker. They both know this, and so Batman ends their relationship and breaks his one rule by freeing Joker the only way left it is possible to free him, in death.

So, as much as I personally think that having Batman kill at all is a fundamental no no that you just can't do with his character because it goes against everything he stands for, I think this as an intended ending by Alan Moore to the relationship of Batman and Joker works very well. It is one of many endings in across many comics. Is it my favourite? No, though I would put it in my top three. however, I do think that this is the meaning that Moore was trying to convey in this scene, and I truly believe he does a beautiful job at conveying it!

[clubdionysus]

[BAD DECISION #10] Blonde

warnings: b is in her bleach era. love that for her!! jaykay is in the chapter for like 1.5 seconds and still manages to be the best thing about it. also if u think wow holly sometimes your chapters end very similarly, uhhh yes. ur right. mainly because my brain is smooth but also because jungkook is a creature of habit! it’s within his character traits! not because im stupid! even if i am!

soundtrack: space - audrey nuna;  blonde - maisie peters

wc: 3.5k

bd total wc: 540k (on-going)

minors dni | AO3 | series masterlist 

You suppose you really shouldn't be surprised when Seokjin leaves you on read. It happens as soon as he escapes the city, just like it always does. 

It's always the same; he'll come back to town for a few days - to visit friends, his family, or maybe for a haircut with the only barber he trusts - then leaves just as quickly as he comes.

The predictability of it all would be funny, you think, but your knees are getting worn out from how many times you fall for it; his charm, his deception, his pretty lips that soothe the burn of his selfish choices. 

He'll be radio silent for a while, and then suddenly, as if he's finally changed the batteries in his walkie-talkie, he won't be. It'll most likely be when he's on his way back to town in a few months time.

The saddest part is that you know you'll want to see him when he does. Will have the burning desire to show him just how well you've been; how well you've coped without him.

Most of all? You'll want him to know just how much you don't need him.

Inevitably, he'll end up in your bed, and you'll end up all in your head - again - overthinking and underestimating just how easy it is for him to drop you. Forgetting just how badly he fucked you up, only for him to remind you in the most callous of ways.

When Danbi comes home on Thursday night - three days since Seokjin's last message - she knows exactly what's happened. You've got a special kind of pout reserved for Seokjin-related upsets. It's always a little soft yet incredibly hard to break.

"You gotta stop letting him in," she says over a glass of red. She hates the taste, but loves the soft buzz in the pit of her stomach. Though she's much better suited to Moscato, Danbi will never turn her nose up at free wine.

If she knew why you were drinking it, she might consider rejecting it.

Seokjin's favourite. You'd bought it on the way home from work. Just couldn't help yourself.

Had figured that at least when you hugged yourself to sleep that evening, your lips would taste like his used to do, on the nights when he'd tell you that you're the most delightful thing he's ever laid his eyes upon. Would be all giggly. Wine drunk. Happy. In love.

But it's been a while since he did that. Feels like a lifetime ago, now. 

You shrug as you let the ruby red liquid swirl in your glass. Fighting against your feelings feels like swimming against the tide.

Always struggling to breathe. Never winning. Failing. Falling. 

"I don't know how to, Dan."

"But you do," she insists.

And she's right. Of course you do. 

His number has never been blocked, but a simple restriction of access to you would solve so many of your problems.

Thing is, you kind of like him still being your problem. At least that way, on a technicality, he's still yours. Kind of.

Every time he comes back to the city, it's still your bed that he ends up in.

Never for the night. Just for an hour or two - but for long enough for you to convince yourself that he can't stay away.

The lies you let your mind whisper are insidious. You're irresistible. He's still just as affected by you as you are by him. He can't possibly leave you.

And yet he does, each and every time.

He doesn't ever let you go. Not fully. Whenever you think you're getting over it, he shows up just to get you under him; his thumb, his spell, his body.

You're halfway through the bottle of wine when Danbi tells you once more that you need to get Seokjin out of your hair.

You've reached the end of it by the time you're grabbing your purse and heading for the closest Olive Young.

It's just down the street, by the crossroads that lead into town, and the staff there have seen you in worse states. A little tipsy has nothing on the mascara-stained eyes they used to be greeted with during the worst days of the breakup.

"Sure about this?" Danbi asks just to check before you take the boxes in your hands to the counter.

"Absolutely not - but he always hated me blonde," you grin a little sardonically. The happiness that comes with this change will be temporary, but you have to remind yourself that so was he. "At least even if I can't resist him, he'll resist me."

Peroxide and perhaps a little fried, your blonde hair had caught his attention in the early days - but you had dyed your hair dark in a bid to keep it. 

He'd said some bullshit in a conversation amongst friends about his preferences, and how he favoured the 'natural look'. You weren't together at the time, not officially - but everyone there was a friend of his. They all knew you'd be going home with him. It only took two boxes of dye to get him asking to be exclusive. A week later he was introducing you to his friends as his girlfriend. 

Funny what a little bit of conformity can do for a man who loves playing by the rules. 

You assume his desire to tick the boxes and do what is expected of him is also why he was such a bellend when it came to the glitter you liked to dust yourself in. 

Nobody's perfect though, so he was willing to overlook it. Was just one of the flaws he perceived in you. When you love someone, you accept them.

He ultimately never grew to love it, but for a while, you thought he might.

Bleach boxes in one hand, another bottle of wine in the other, you waste no time and head straight for the bathroom. Danbi follows you right in. She's always there to lend a hand or at least provide a Spotify playlist to get you through your woes. 

Folding the powder into the developing lotion by the sink, you know your bleach-induced bathroom antics could get you a spot in a Brad Mondo video.

All a little haphazard, you're without a mixing bowl and brush, so are having to use an old takeout container and a plastic spoon, instead.

It's not quite how the instructions suggest you should mix it all up, but no good ever comes from following the rules.

You'd tried for Seokjin, and look where that got you.

Unlike him, trusty Tupperware has never done you dirty before. No reason why it should now. 

Danbi sits on the closed toilet seat, legs crossed, a small bottle of bubbles in her hand. The bubbles had been a Christmas party favour from the office job she'd quit four months ago. Rediscovered when she'd been cleaning her room earlier that day, Danbi had taken to blowing pretty little bubble flurries your way all afternoon. 

Your reflection is captured in the peacock sheen of the bubbles while you study your rapidly developing hair in the mirror. 

You haven't bothered to change out of your shirt. It's not yours. One of Seokjin's. It's navy, and you hope the bleach ruins it.

"I think I've fucked up," you say all rather calmy, talking about your hair and not the shirt. It's not the end of the world if you have. Just hair, you always think.

Danbi shrugs. Has clearly spent too much time in your company, because she echoes exactly what you're thinking: "Just hair, babe. It'll grow."

That's the joy of your friendship; you both encourage each other with the same dumb remarks whenever you feel like you've reached the point of no return. 

After all, if you can't go back? 

Go forward.

"Plus," she adds, blowing more bubbles instead of taking a breath. "You can just chalk it up to being your hot mess era."

"Been in that for months already," you smile at her in the reflection of the mirror. You prod a little at your roots, and know that you definitely should have waited a little longer to work the bleach up to them. Bollocks.

You've done this enough times to know you'll end up with a gold band haloing around the top of your hair thanks to how easily your roots always lift. Nightmare. 

"Exactly, so you may as well look the part," Danbi encourages. Worst influence going, she is. Also the best at times, too. You find comfort in the fact she won't always say what you want to hear, but what you need to hear instead.

The conversation dissolves into empty chatter, gossip about Danbi's dog walking clients, mentions of Taehyung and how he's still trying to talk her into a mates-rates discount despite the fact they aren't actually 'mates'. She asked you about your Bartender That Smiles, and you say he's all good - before you have to insist there's nothing going on there. 

"He's got issues with his ex," you explain.

She rolls her eyes. "Don't they all? Boys and their first loves, I swear to God."

"Not sure she was his first," you defend, though you're not sure why. The thought lingers as you rummage around for an old tube of toner that you know you have hiding in the bathroom cabinet somewhere. It's been a while since your hair was pale enough to take toner, so it's been pushed right to the back.

Danbi is shooed from her perch on the toilet seat and into the living room as you let the shower run to heat it a little.  

The first crash of water against your skin is lukewarm. Tepid. Unappealing, but necessary. 

You hate anything other than boiling-you-alive degrees Celsius, but know you need to be kind to your hair after the torture you've put it through. The water runs cloudy until the bleach is rinsed out, and then it runs purple thanks to your silver shampoo. It pools around your feet and seeps into the drain. Wishful thinking has you hoping memories of Seokjin will do just the same.

It's just to preemptively tone it, but you can't help but worry about the pigment taking too strongly on your roots. 

The ash toner you found in the cupboard is in a box by the sink. You plan on putting that over the top of whatever mess your hair is anyway, but it doesn't hurt to get a head start on the process. 

The water glistens a deep violet, briefly coating your skin - and for some reason, all you can think about is Jeongguk, and how you'd really like to be downing a Purple Starfucker (or five) with him right now. He really is the perfect distraction. 

Still, you have a task at hand. You rinse your hair; ring it out. Sigh as you frown at the mess that greets you in the mirror - lilac roots, a yellow band haloing just like your thought it would, and silver ends. Brilliant.

It's as you're sitting with Danbi in the living room a little while later - body wrapped in a towel that isn't half as fluffy as Jeongguk's favourite, ashy toner smothering your peroxide blonde hair - that you notice your phone flash on the coffee table.

Danbi clocks it first, and stifles a laugh as she reads the screen. "Isn't that the guy from the club?"

You assume she means Jeongguk, and are a little perplexed to see it's Jimin's name on your screen instead. 

"Yeah... Jimin. Smooth talker, shit shagger."

"A glowing review."

"Hey, I still let him think he was good," you say as you reach for your phone to read his message out loud to Danbi. "You guys out tomorrow night?"

Sipping on her wine, Danbi raises a brow. Shakes her head in confusion. "He hoping for round two?"

"Fuck knows."

It's just gone midnight, so you consider maybe he's thinking about his desire for a hook-up, and is hoping for a safe bet in the form of you. 

And so you don't reply. If he double texts, you'll just lie and say you've fallen asleep.

The scent of your toner is beginning to give you a headache, so you go to rinse it and bid farewell to your final day as a brunette.

Sleep evades you. Doesn't want to let go of who you were, apparently. Wine makes you sleepy, and yet you're wired as if you've just had a triple shot americano.

But then it's three in the morning, and all you can seem to smell is the deep conditioner you bathed your hair in that evening. 

Somehow, when you look to the empty space beside you - delicately ruffled, a dent prevailing in the pillow - you convince yourself that you can smell fig leaves and coconut. The notes of his favourite aftershave linger like the ache in your chest. It's hollow, and you can't work out why it hurts quite as much as it does. 

If there's nothing there, how can it be so painful?

You sniff back tears that fail to truly form and pull your phone from beneath your pillow. It's hard to move your fingers when they're tangled up in puppet strings that Seokjin is refusing to let go of, but eventually you manage to tap through some Instagram stories in a bid to distract yourself from him. 

Inspirational quotes don't do much for you, nor do the engagement pictures of people you haven't given a second thought since graduation. There's an abundance of them. Smiling faces. Diamonds, or maybe just cubic zirconia. Fresh sets of nails, hands that are pink and warm from the heat of whoever's been holding them.

It's a curious thought; what people who haven't spoken to you in years must think of you now. 

You were the one who was going to succeed. Going far in life, made for a boardroom, would look incredible in a pantsuit - and yet you're working in a cafe, first-class degree of no more worth than the tissue paper you flush down the toilet. 

See, you switched out life goals for glitter. You wear it like armour; protect yourself from the world around you. Who cares about seriousness and success when you're a constant disco? Not you. Could never be you.

Or at least, you hope that's what people think. Hope that no one realises you're covering yourself in artificial shine; like a canvas in acrylic because you were too impatient to watch the oil paint dry.

One day you'll glow. Glow for real. 

For a while, you thought you had been with Seokjin. 

All you see when you look in the mirror these days is tarnished silver; copper alloy pretending to be much more than what it really is. Your skin will turn green eventually.

There is, however, one person you've managed to fool. 

When his story pops up - a repost of tomorrow night's paint party event at Dionysus - you find yourself clicking through to your DM thread without much thought. You know he's at work. Know it's a 50/50 whether or not he'll get back to you before your mind begins to berate you again for how miserable you feel. 

It's a simple message - hey - and you're pleased that it's met with an equally simple reply not even a minute later.

JustJK: To what do I owe the pleasure?

You decided that 'I'm about to cry over my shitbag ex so chose to message you instead' probably won't be Jeongguk's favourite thing to hear, so you opt for a little white lie.

You: Just wondering how the kids are <3

Part of you worries he won't understand what the fuck you're on about - but of course, he does. He's Jeongguk. Gets you better than you get yourself, these days.

JustJK:  Missing their mother. 

JustJK:  Perry the Pigeon almost fell earlier.

JustJK:  Roger the Robin looks like he has a broken wing.

JustJK: Must be one of yours. Inherited his mother's wonkiness <3

With each message that comes through, your smile grows wider in the midnight darkness of your bedroom. 

You: Careful or I'll file for joint custody.

You: Get poor Roger away from his father's cruel remarks </3

There's an ease to how you joke together, both aware of how unserious you are. There's no second-guessing, no worrying about saying the wrong thing. If you do, you'll say sorry and move on. No harm, no foul.

JustJK: Your appeal won't hold up in court, Byeol.

JustJK:  You've neglected them ever since you spawned them.

JustJK:  Haven't even paid them a visit!!!

Laughter stifles in your throat as your body curls up into a more comfortable position. The audacity of this boy, you think, ignoring the way he manages to get you entirely focused on something that isn't your own despair.

You:  You've got full custody!!!

JustJK:  And you're still allowed to come for supervised visits!!!!!

JustJK:  smh and to think you call yourself their mother.

JustJK: I'm their mother now.

You pout at your screen, and whine a small little 'nooo'. 

You:  They need me :(

JustJK: Come and see them, then. They miss their mother.

You:  Tomorrow?

He reads the messages instantly, but takes a little longer than usual to reply. It worries you slightly. Makes you more aware of your surroundings. The scent of Seokjin's aftershave begins to permeate the air once more.

Until, all rather suddenly, it doesn't anymore.

JustJK:  I'm not working tomorrow night, but Jimin's insisting on going to the paint party - you coming?

You:  Will Perry the Pigeon be there?

JustJK: If he falls before I leave for the club, then yes.

It's not a bad proposition. One that quite intrigues you. One that has you agreeing, and him telling you to fuck off and go to sleep. He's got work to do, he says. 

It's actually quite quiet at the club - Yeonjun just caught him looking at his phone with a dumb smile a few too many times for Jeongguk's liking. Doesn't wanna get caught out again. 

Especially doesn't want him catching onto the fact that there's a reason Jeongguk's eyes light up like Disco Balls when he looks at his phone.

Yeonjun doesn't really have friends who are girls, Jeongguk reasons with himself. Won't understand that he's perfectly capable of having a little flirt without it meaning anything more than that - after all, isn't that just what banter is? Friendly flirting? He does it with the boys all the time. Doesn't mean fuck all. Just fun.

Jeongguk's a couple of years older than his cerulean-haired coworker, and has learnt the hard way that you really shouldn't escalate friends above the level of purely platonic. One day Yeonjun will realise this. 

For now, though, Yeonjun'll shag anyone who looks at him in the right direction. Has probably already ruined a few good friendships. Doesn't even realise he's done it.

Jeongguk trusts himself not to make the same mistakes he's made in the past with you. Thinks that he's pretty happy with how things are. Has missed the dynamics of friendships with girls. Is looking forward to Monday movie night with you and Danbi again.

And yet when he gets home to find Perry the paper pigeon on his bed, he can't help but smile.

You wake up to a picture of the fallen bird in your DMs - and even though you'll whine and complain about it when you see him that evening, all you can do is smile, too.

JustJK:  Looks like we're having a wholesome family trip to Dionysus tonight.

You: Mummy and Daddy reunited at last <33 Perry will be so happy.

JustJK: It's okay, you don't have to lie.

JustJK:  I know you're talking about yourself, not Perry.

Jeongguk doesn't send the message where he tells you not to call him Daddy. Knows you'll read into it; tease him about it. It's not like he's got a thing for it, or anything, he just... maybe wouldn't be opposed to it, and so he'd rather not be called it when he's having casual conversations with you. Wouldn't wanna get flustered. 

Part of you already knows this. Is precisely why you'd said it. It's not really your style, not the kind of thing that gets you going.

But it is also exactly why you choose to end your next message with, 'See you tonight, Daddy x'.

You're laughing as you send it.

And as he receives it, Jeongguk groans. Buries his head into his pillow. Crumples Perry a little in the process. Whines. 

"Don't fuck this up, Jeongguk."

AO3 | MASTERLIST | NEXT

[anna-scribbles]

Any songs on the tortured poets department or the anthology that remind you of Emilie agreste or any other ML character? (though I know Emilie’s your special interest) I feel like the albatross and I can do it with a broken heart remind me so much of Adrien, and I always love your Taylor swift lyric analysis posts.

EXCELLENT question considering taylor swift just released an emilie agreste album. (and you’re so right about the adrien songs i definitely thought so too.) there were 6 songs that stood out to me as emilie songs, the first being:

I Can Fix Him, No Really I Can

this one is. well. it’s obvious that emilie is into toxic men. i love the idea that when she first got entangled with gabe, he was just an absolute broke problematic punk bisexual disaster (we can't ignore the harriel evidence) who her parents hated sooooo bad. and like literally everybody was so right that he was bad news but emilie was so confident that she could fix him until she finally realized that she was fr dying and he was actually going to terrorize the world about it. oops.

I Can Do It With A Broken Heart

already mentioned as an adrien song (which it is) but emilie and adrien are admittedly very similar and this song hits on exactly why. it’s about having such a tight control on how you’re perceived by others, putting on a fake persona that can be idolized and adored by everyone no matter how you’re feeling inside. it’s about being SO good at your job that you can’t actually get out of it. accidentally mythologizing yourself. losing your grasp of what is performance vs authenticity. you get it

Clara Bow

OKAY THIS ONE MAKES ME CRAAAZY. okay okay okay. so SPEAKING of accidentally mythologizing yourself, the song clara bow hits on a lot of the same themes as icdiwabh but there's this added sense of inevitable circularity to it that just drives me insane. I especially think a lot about adrien almost inheriting his mother's space in the public eye - the way emilie's acting career and universal adoration paved the way for adrien to be famous from birth, the kind of fame that makes his life almost unlivable at times. the whole bridge articulates it beautifully, I think - "beauty is a beast that roars down on all fours/demanding more" and "it's hell on earth to be heavenly." the idea that the world demands beauty from emilie, and she gives and gives until her ambition eventually breaks her, and she passes the performance down to adrien. and he takes up the mantle. the future's bright, dazzling.

Chloe or Sam or Sophia or Marcus

so again, we return to the alleged bisexual punk disaster youth of gabriel agreste😭 this song is mostly related to my personal way that I imagine gabe and emilie's early years lol. I imagine that one of the things that drew emilie to gabe initially was that he was so opposite of the way her british nobility family was, and she was trying to escape that life. but eventually, once the money and success got to him, he became someone exactly like the family she once ran from. and she became different too, in a way she always regretted. hence the "say that I loved you the way that you were." the part of this song that feels VERY emilie to me is the "I changed into goddesses, villains, and fools/changed plans and lovers and outfits and rules/all to outrun my desertion of you." I think that emilie is very malleable, easily adapting her personality and presentation to fit whoever she's trying to please at the moment. but she never plans to stick around for long.

I Hate It Here

this one makes me laugh bc "I'd say the 1830's but without all the racists😒" ABSOLUTELY feels like something emilie agreste would say😭 and feel like she cured racism. but as for the actual song, I see emilie as always tending toward escapism. no matter how content she's trying to be in her situation, she's always stitching together an escape plan in the back of her mind. she doesn't like being tied down. she's such a romantic, and constantly disappointed by reality. always planting secret gardens in her mind

The Bolter

THE BOLTER!!!!! IS THE EMILIE AGRESTE SONG OF ALL TIME. TO ME. okay okay every single line but especially verse 2. "he was a cad, wanted her bad/just like any good trophy hunter/and she liked the way it tastes" just SAY gabriel and emilie. just say it. also the "splendidly selfish, charmingly helpless" SCREAMS emilie to me. one of the first things that ever came to me about emilie was her being flighty and kind of unreliable, as well as deeply attention seeking. I think of her as someone who gets restless if she's in the same place for too long, who has trouble with commitment. it's easy for her to feel trapped, and her impulse is always to break free. thinking about how content she was to leave behind her loved ones, "there's an escape in escaping" really defines her character to me. and of course it bleeds into adrien's struggle with confinement and tendency to run away when he's feeling unwanted etc etc <3

THANKS FOR ASKING A QUESTION SO RELEVANT TO MY CURRENT INTERESTS<3 umm I will throw in a bonus adrien song which is robin. ok goodnight

[dayseedrawz2]

Today on Daysee gives In to the voices in her head...

a TADC fic based on a silly dream I had! :D

This is just gonna be some indulgent shipping stuffs

Specifically Abstragedy, bunnydoll and showtime (And Platonic Kinger and Pomni because episode 3 shattered my being)

Could this be seen as Pre-Ring-Misstress??? Maaayyyybbeeeeeeee.....

(Sidenote, this is unrelated to the Old body swap comic that I did. Buuut if that's what you want, do let me know! Maybe I'll write something about it in the future!!)

Enjoy!!

[Swap shenanigans | a TADC One-shot fic!]

It was a typical day in the Amazing Digital Circus. Well, as typical as it could get. Nothing was ever exactly normal, with the ringmaster always giving the gang wacky quests and all. But as of recently, things were different. The crew was standing around waiting for Caine's inevitable arrival.

☆Good morning, my superstars!!☆

The cast collectively groaned.

☆Huh... tough crowd today, I see? Well not to worry! Today's just going to be a simple in-house adventure!☆

▪︎Oh really? Lemme guess, the intelligently advanced AI is running out of ideas??▪︎

Jax questioned Caine sarcastically. The ringmaster laughed.

☆Me? Out of ideas? Ha! Of course not. Though, this wasn't mine. I planned this with the help of a friend!☆

He turned towards Pomni, which prompted everyone else to do the same. The Jester could do nothing but force a smile and shyly wave.

□Oh? Well... sounds like fun! ...what are we waiting for?□

Ragatha slowly said, just wanting to get on with it.

☆Of course, my button-eyed friend! Let's get on with the adventure!!☆

With a snap of his fingers... nothing happened. Or so it seemed, until Caine's voice came from Pomni's mouth.

☆We've dubbed this adventure "The Body swap"! We will be stuck in each others models for the next 24 hours! Just so there's no confusion, Gangle has swapped with Zooble, Jax has swapped with Ragatha, Kinger has swapped with Bubble, And (as you could probably already tell) Pomni has swapped with Me!☆

Zooble looked down at they're now Ribbon-y body and back up at the ringmaster.

◇...What's the catch?◇

Pomni struggled to adapt to Caine's fight controls. Her feet eventually met the ground and she walked over to the rest of the group.

♧The catch? There is none. When Caine granted me permission to help him out with certain things, I wanted to let you guys off easy. He still wanted to mix things up, so we made a compromise.♧

☆Everyone just have fun-!☆

Caine stumbled as he attempted to meet Pomni's side. He let out a loud 'oomph' as his face met the floor.

♧Oh- uh- here.♧

She lended him his cane. He managed to prop himself up with it, the limbs of his temporary body still shaking.

☆I, uh- Thank you, my dear...☆

The ringmaster rubbed the side of his new face. He looked away from the others, hoping they couldn't see the excitement forming in his code. However, now that he was no longer a floating pair of eyes and teeth, anyone could see how flushed his face was. Thankfully, not all of them noticed.

Zooble stared at Gangle, who now occupied their body. They stared at her, confused. She seemed content. Well, at least more than usual. She seemed okay with it. But why couldn't they be? Zooble stared down at themselves, now in Gangles body. It wasn't much, but at least it wasn't the same brightly colored jumbled mess that it normally was.

◇...I guess this isn't so b-◇

Jax swung his now ragdoll-like leg and kicked Zooble onto the floor. They became a pile of ribbon and shattered porcelain on the ground.

▪︎Ha! You're even weaker than usual, Zoobie!▪︎

They lifted a ribbon hand weakly but dropped it in frustration and defeat as Jax walked away. Gangle whimpered seeing them like that.

□Hey, that wasn't very nice!□

Ragatha looked down at Jax in disapproval.

Jax continued to mock her. Bubble, occupying Kinger's Model, stood in front of both of them.

▪︎Oh really? My bad. How out of character for me! "Hi, I'm Ragatha! I'm such a pushover! Oh no! Don't be mean! Being mean is mean!" Is that better??▪︎

□Cmon, now, lighting up. It's not so bad!□

°○So... witch one is it?○°

▪︎Huh? What're you talking about?▪︎

°○Are you acting out just to act out, or because you're not the tallest anymore? OR, is it because you're dressed like a girl now??○°

Ragatha covered her mouth with her hand and giggled.

□Heh, maybe Bubble is right! Is he?□

Jax stammered.

▪︎I- no-! you- Shut up...▪︎

He stomped to his room, frustrated.

Gangle struggled to untagle Zooble with their body's strange hands, but she managed to get them upright and pick up the fragments of her mask on the floor.

~I'm... I'm sorry about that...~

She avoided looking at Zooble, afraid how they would respond.

◇...It's fine, don't worry about me.◇

Gangle looked up at them.

~You mean... you aren't upset?~

◇You know how he is. I'm just glad it wasn't you this time.◇

Gangle smiled sincerely. She double-checked the floor for all the scattered masks peices.

~I'm... gonna go fix this. You can come... if you want.~

◇Sure. Got nothing better to do.◇

The pair left to the hallway together.

Caine wandered the Circus interior alone. He relied a little bit less on his cane, but he still used it to walk around. He stumbled upon Pomni and Kinger, together near the stage. She had placed kinger into a bucket of soapy water.

♧Okay, I'm just gonna leave you in here for a while. I don't wanna risk popping you. I'll check on you in a but, okay?♧

She placed another bucket on top of the one Kinger was in so he could be secluded in darkness. His voice echoed from the inside.

+Wow, so this is how it feels to be a water bug!+

♧... yeah, just let me know if you need anything alright? Alright, uh, have fun!♧

Now that she was alone, she could finally get a good hang of these flight controls. She had only ever floated against her will when Caine would drag her places. She flailed around for a while, but she slowly got used to it. ...Until she was startled by a familiar voice and flew into a wall.

☆Testing the flying mechanics, I see?☆

She peeled herself off the wall and met Caine at eye level.

♧...you could say that.♧

She rubbed her shoulder.

☆Allow me to help! I could use a break from all this walking myself.☆

♧But won't you just fall?♧

☆Oh, no! I've done it with you multiple times, remember? Just pull me up there with you, and I won't, trust me!☆

He stretched out his arm towards hers. There was a small amount of hesitation, but she reached for it and pulled him into the air with her. Letting go, he still stayed airborne. He spun in place and cheered.

☆Whoohoo!! Now that's more like it!!☆

Pomni chuckled at the sight of his enthusiasm. She joined and twirled around a bit herself. It was rather relaxing not having a crisis or being chased by a monster for once... it was just the two of them having fun.

They laughed and danced in the air for hours. Caine looked at Pomni. He lit up at the sight of her actually enjoying herself for once. He was greatful to have met a circus member like her. Someone so smart, and thoughtful, and kind, and comes up with the best adventures!

☆My dear, I must say, you really outdid yourself. This was a great idea!!☆

He paused his arial tricks and met Pomni's gaze.

♧Me..? All I said was to make things more mundane. You thought up most of this.♧

☆Well, of course, but I wouldn't have without your input!☆

♧Please, I-♧

Caine planted his hand on her shoulder firmly.

☆My dear, you have an amazing mind. And a big heart, too. You shouldn't take that for granted.☆

Pomni froze. She never thought Caine could give genuine words of affirmation. Granted, it was weird to hear it coming from her own mouth, but it touched her none the less.

♧I... thank you...♧

The words barely managed to escape her throat. She could only give attention to the fact that Caine's hand still lingered on her shoulder. Caine noticed her glancing to the side. He quickly realized what he had been doing and removed his hand.

☆Oh- no problem, my dear...☆

God why do human faces overheat so much...

+Can I come out now?+

Pomni had forgotten about Kinger. She quickly flew over and removed the top bucket so he could escape.

♧Kinger! Could you uh... do us a favor and go check up on the others? I bet you Jax has caused some mayhem by now...♧

+Oh, of course! See ya later, Pomni!+

Kinger floated off toward the hallway, presumably where everyone else had gone. Pomni's attention immediately went back to the ringmaster.

☆Do... you maybe wanna do flying lessons another time? Yaknow, minus the body swap thing..?☆

Pomni nodded her head.

♧Sure... that would be nice...♧

☆Well then, I'll let you go! Until tomorrow, my dear!☆

Pomni left to her room, where she would sleep through the night, and the next day would be normal.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

...

Okay yeah this kinda just became a Pre-Ring-Misstress fic-

Anywayyy, uhh thanks for reading I guess.

Imma add this to the R-M fic masterpost because yes-

Also I need to eep now-

[opossumloverr]

✞°•I DON'T BELIEVE IN GHOSTS•°✞

(Based on this song, I know you know this song. don't lie to me)

Summary:

Turtle bros with a ghost reader!

Warning(s):

Some cursing!

A/N:

I MUST BE DREAMING CAUSE I DON'T BELIEVE IN GHOST YEAH, sorry, anyways, idk I just felt a little silly today, and I really do love this song. also I'm trying a different style DONT BULLY ME IT TOOK ME LIKE AN HOUR TO FIGURE OUT HOW TO DO GRADIENT

It was a chilly October night, the leaves rustled as the four brothers made their way towards an abandoned graveyard. The atmosphere was dark and gloomy, but they were determined to explore the area, for reasons unknown to anyone but themselves.

"I don't like this, guys. Let's turn back," the youngest brother, Mikey, shivered.

"What? No way! You said you were bored, Mikey. This is exactly what we need to get our blood pumping!" another brother exclaimed.

"He was bored, Leo, not us. You didn't have to drag us all here," one of the brothers groaned in annoyance.

"Sorry that Mr. Bootyshaker9000 wanted to stay indoors and rot. I'm preventing the inevitable!" Leo clapped back.

"I'm trying to prevent hitting you with my Tech Bo," Donnie gripped his weapon tighter.

"Try it, you won't," Leo egged Donnie on.

"You little…" Donnie scowled, lifting his weapon before getting interrupted.

"Enough! Fighting is not the memo right now! Now you two cut it out or else I'll…wait, what was that?" the oldest brother paused on his scolding to scope out the area. A pungent smell of perfume floated in the air, and chills went down their spines.

"I'm getting really bad vibes here! I told you we should've gone back to the lair!" Mikey exclaimed.

"Don't be such a party pooper, Mike! It's probably all in our heads," Leo tried to come up with a reasonable explanation, but a gust of wind shut off all of his thoughts.

"What was that?!" Raph exclaimed.

"It's a ghost!" Mikey chattered.

"That is preposterous, Michael. There is no such thing as a ghost-"

"No, he's right."

They all screamed in unison, clinging onto Raph. "AH!"

《RAPH》

After the shock and some failed punching attempts, he finally decided to talk instead of fight, and it was a delightful conversation

yall sat down and talked for hours, He asked a few questions, and you answered them

he made sure not to ask personal questions, like how you died and stuff (unlike Donnie, that insensitive prick)

was kinda sad when he had to go, but gotta make sure pops doesn't worry,

he promises he'll see you again

a few weeks later you show up in his room, sitting down calmly on his bed, or, erm, floating.

he threw multiple items at you before calming down and realizing that it was you, what were you doing here? how did you know where he lives?

all of those questions were brushed off when he heard that you just wanted to see him, and only him.

his heart pounded in his plastron, you wanted to see him? big ol' him? cue huge tail thumping into the ground

yall talked for HOURS, him talking about Lou Jitsu- wait, you've never watched Lou Jitsu? he's inviting you to family movie night. there's no getting out of this.

over the months, the both of you got close, he no longer throws objects or tries to throw hands when he sees you!

enjoys the company when he lifts weights

"Wow, those seem heavy," you said, impressed by his muscles as he lifted the weights. 

"They are heavy, but don't worry, Raph's got gains!" he replied, flexing his muscles with a curl-up. 

"Can I try?" you asked, reaching out your hands. 

"Sure, but be careful. I'll be here to spot ya!" he said, passing the weights to you. 

However, you forgot that you were transparent and accidentally dropped the weights on his tail, causing him to scream in pain. 

"Oops! I forget I'm transparent sometimes... You just make me feel so alive..." you said sheepishly. 

"I-I make you feel alive?" he questioned, seemingly forgetting the intense pain in his tail.

HES SOSOSO SILLY GUYS I CAN'T

《LEO》

He had never sliced a portal open this fast

before he could dive head-first into his portal you floated in front of it

you just wanted to talk... okay... but he's keeping a close eye on you

a few minutes later he's blabbing about Jupiter Jim to you, you've never watched it? what? do you live under a rock? or... a grave...

and you seem so interested! he could talk about it for hours! you know he could.

he literally clung onto the ground when it was time to leave, complaining as Raph dragged him away

he shouted a quick "See you soon"

he saw you soon alright, in his room, looking at his pile of Jupiter Jim comics curiously

He literally screamed like a girl

Oh! it's just you... where did you come from? oh, you just wanted to see him, not his brothers? him?

boosts up his ego by 100x

"I knew you couldn't get enough of me" type of energy

proceeds to yap about Jupiter Jim some more, what? it's YOUR fault for indulging in his hyperfixations

yall are the talker and listener duo

"And so Jupiter Jim was all like- pew pew pew! and the aliens were all like- Ohno! and then- hey, hey [NAME], are ya listening?" He questioned,

"Mhm, go on, I'm all ears"

Leo's eyes widened, and small churrs could be heard "OKOK! And then Jupiter Jim was all like, no way jose!"

He just like me fr

《DONNIE》

There is no logical way this could be happening! ghosts? really?

immediately started asking questions, why do you exist? how do you exist? would you perhaps be interested in some experiments, y'know, for scientific purposes (definitely not for his own personal questions)

his questions just kept on coming and coming, some of them being more insensitive than the last, he would've said more if Raph didn't smack him on top of the head...

but you were happy to answer them non the less

when they had to skedaddle he was pissed, how dare they interrupt! can't you see there was science in the making?

he says he'll come to you, for more questions of course, nothing more... (cap)

he didn't expect you to come to him.

he jumped a little but then started going into his "I ask you, answer" mode

Experiments on you (with consent ofc)

discovers you have telekinesis

you two grew close, his experiments died down the more he learned about you

now, he just really enjoys the company

just knowing that you're there watching him while he tackles a project gets him so motivated

you're like his little assistant

"[NAME], be a dear and pass me that wrench over there," he asks, hand out, palm open,

"You got it boss" you floated the wrench toward him, and he grabbed it

"Thank you, you really are a great help, [NAME]"

"Just glad to be here Don-tron!" you smiled, not noticing the slight wag to his tail.

He really appreciates you

《MIKEY》

He just kept screaming and screaming until you snapped him out of it

what? why aren't you trying to take his body? and why aren't you freakishly creepy, you just looked like a normal person, minus the floating and transparency

Oh, you just wanted to talk? well, as long as you don't possess his body he's all for it!

The conversation was amazing! he got so much more information about ghosts, he's even more fixated on them now!

you got this turtle laying on the ground, twirling his mask tails in his fingers, kicking his feet, saying "Ooh! Tell me more!"

was whining like a puppy dog when he had to get up on out of there, puppy dog eyes did not work in his favor tonight..

he swears up and down that he will visit you, just wait!

I guess you've waited long enough, because the following week you were caught snooping around his room

he screamed, yes, he won't lie.

but it's not his fault that you popped up out of nowhere!

then starts talking to you like he didn't scream like 100 decibels

Just yip yap yapping away, but you don't mind, you enjoy socializing with him

kinda sad that he can't touch you though, sometimes he wants nothing more than to wrap his arms around you

you're his muse! asks you to pose for him, and you happily oblige

"Okay just keep that position, right there, perfect! such an amazing muse for me!" He smiles,

"Well, it's easy to pose when I have such a wonderful artist painting me" You replied,

"Awe shucks, don't compliment me like that! you're going to give me an ego" he chirps happily

lala and okok duo. that's all I have to say.

BOO! HAPPY NEW YEARS GUYS OMGOMG 2024 IS HOPEFULLY GONNA BE A GREAT YEAR, HERES A LIL DITTY I WROTE, I HOPE YA LIKE IT, IM GETTING ON MY GRIND RIGHT NOW, I love ya! Merry 24, also I was watching Coryxkenshin while writing, shout out to the shogun. There also MIGHT be some grammar mistakes, kinda rushed to get this out

[alphabetboyluvr]

bad decisions - jjk | ten

When his story pops up—a repost of tomorrow night's paint party event at Dionysus—you find yourself clicking through to your DM thread without much thought. You know he's at work. Know it's a 50/50 whether or not he'll get back to you before your mind begins to berate you again for how miserable you feel.  It's a simple message—Hey—and you're pleased that it's met with an equally simple reply not even a minute later. JustJK: To what do I owe the pleasure? You decide that "I'm about to cry over my shitbag ex so chose to message you instead" probably won't be Jungkook's favourite thing to hear, so you opt for a little white lie. You: Just wondering how the kids are. Part of you worries he won't understand what the fuck you're on about - but of course, he does. He's Jungkook. Gets you better than you get yourself, these days. JustJK: Missing their mother. 

Bad Decision #10 - Blonde

warnings: b is in her bleach era. love that for her!! jaykay is in the chapter for like 1.5 seconds and still manages to be the best thing about it. also if u think wow holly sometimes your chapters end very similarly, uhhh yes. ur right. mainly because my brain is smooth but also because jungkook is a creature of habit! it's within his character traits! not because im stupid! even if i am!

soundtrack: space - audrey nuna;  blonde - maisie peters

wc: 3.5k

bd total wc: 370k (on-going)

minors dni | wattpad | series masterlist |

You suppose you really shouldn't be surprised when Seokjin leaves you on read. It happens as soon as he escapes the city, just like it always does. 

It's always the same; he'll come back to town for a few days—to visit friends, his family, or maybe for a haircut with the only barber he trusts—then leaves just as quickly as he comes.

The predictability of it all would be funny, you think, but your knees are getting worn out from how many times you fall for it; his charm, his deception, his pretty lips that soothe the burn of his selfish choices. 

He'll be radio silent for a while, and then suddenly, as if he's finally changed the batteries in his walkie-talkie, he won't be. It'll most likely be when he's on his way back to town in a few months time.

The saddest part is that you know you'll want to see him when he does. Will have the burning desire to show him just how well you've been; how well you've coped without him.

Most of all? You'll want him to know just how much you don't need him.

Inevitably, he'll end up in your bed, and you'll end up all in your head—again—overthinking and underestimating just how easy it is for him to drop you. Forgetting just how badly he fucked you up, only for him to remind you in the most callous of ways.

When Danbi comes home on Thursday night—three days since Seokjin's last message—she knows exactly what's happened. You've got a special kind of pout reserved for Seokjin-related upsets. It's always a little soft yet incredibly hard to break.

"You gotta stop letting him in," she says over a glass of red. She hates the taste, but loves the soft buzz in the pit of her stomach. Though she's much better suited to Moscato, Danbi will never turn her nose up at free wine.

If she knew why you were drinking it, she might consider rejecting it.

Seokjin's favourite. You'd bought it on the way home from work. Just couldn't help yourself.

Had figured that at least when you hugged yourself to sleep that evening, your lips would taste like his used to do, on the nights when he'd tell you that you're the most delightful thing he's ever laid his eyes upon. Would be all giggly. Wine drunk. Happy. In love.

But it's been a while since he did that. Feels like a lifetime ago, now. 

You shrug as you let the ruby-red liquid swirl in your glass. Fighting against your feelings feels like swimming against the tide.

Always struggling to breathe. Never winning. Failing. Falling. 

"I don't know how to, Dan."

"But you do," she insists.

And she's right. Of course you do. 

His number has never been blocked, but a simple restriction of access to you would solve so many of your problems.

Thing is, you kind of like him still being your problem. At least that way, on a technicality, he's still yours. Kind of.

Every time he comes back to the city, it's still your bed that he ends up in.

Never for the night. Just for an hour or two. Long enough for you to convince yourself that he can't stay away.

The lies you let your mind whisper are insidious. You're irresistible. He's still just as affected by you as you are by him. He can't possibly leave you.

And yet he does, each and every time.

He doesn't ever let you go. Not fully. Whenever you think you're getting over it, he shows up just to get you under him; his thumb, his spell, his body.

You're halfway through the bottle of wine when Danbi tells you once more that you need to get Seokjin out of your hair.

You've reached the end of it by the time you're grabbing your purse and heading for the closest Olive Young.

It's just down the street, by the crossroads that lead into town, and the staff there have seen you in worse states. A little tipsy has nothing on the mascara-stained eyes they used to be greeted with during the worst days of the breakup.

"Sure about this?" Danbi asks just to check before you take the boxes in your hands to the counter.

"Absolutely not, but he always hated me blonde," you grin a little sardonically. The happiness that comes with this change will be temporary, but you have to remind yourself that so was he. "At least even if I can't resist him, he'll resist me."

Peroxide and perhaps a little fried, your blonde hair had caught his attention in the early days - but you had dyed your hair dark in a bid to keep it. 

He'd said some bullshit in a conversation amongst friends about his preferences, and how he favoured the 'natural look'. You weren't together at the time, not officially - but everyone there was a friend of his. They all knew you'd be going home with him. It only took two boxes of dye to get him asking to be exclusive. A week later he was introducing you to his friends as his girlfriend. 

Funny what a little bit of conformity can do for a man who loves playing by the rules. 

You assume his desire to tick the boxes and do what is expected of him is also why he was such a bellend when it came to the glitter you liked to dust yourself in. 

Nobody's perfect though, so he was willing to overlook it. Was just one of the flaws he perceived in you. When you love someone, you accept them.

He ultimately never grew to love it, but for a while, you thought he might.

Bleach boxes in one hand, another bottle of wine in the other, you waste no time and head straight for the bathroom. Danbi follows you right in. She's always there to lend a hand or at least provide a Spotify playlist to get you through your woes. 

Folding the powder into the developing lotion by the sink, you know your bleach-induced bathroom antics could get you a spot in a Brad Mondo video.

All a little haphazard, you're without a mixing bowl and brush, so are having to use an old takeout container and a plastic spoon, instead.

It's not quite how the instructions suggest you should mix it all up, but no good ever comes from following the rules.

You'd tried for Seokjin, and look where that got you.

Unlike him, trusty Tupperware has never done you dirty before. No reason why it should now. 

Danbi sits on the closed toilet seat, legs crossed, a small bottle of bubbles in her hand. The bubbles had been a Christmas party favour from the office job she'd quit four months ago. Rediscovered when she'd been cleaning her room earlier that day, Danbi had taken to blowing pretty little bubble flurries your way all afternoon. 

Your reflection is captured in the peacock sheen of the bubbles while you study your rapidly developing hair in the mirror. 

You haven't bothered to change out of your shirt. It's not yours. One of Seokjin's. It's navy, and you hope the bleach ruins it.

"I think I've fucked up," you say all rather calmy, talking about your hair and not the shirt. It's not the end of the world if you have. Just hair, you always think.

Danbi shrugs. Has clearly spent too much time in your company, because she echoes exactly what you're thinking: "Just hair, babe. It'll grow."

That's the joy of your friendship; you both encourage each other with the same dumb remarks whenever you feel like you've reached the point of no return. 

After all, if you can't go back? 

Go forward.

"Plus," she adds, blowing more bubbles instead of taking a breath. "You can just chalk it up to being your hot mess era."

"Been in that for months already," you smile at her in the reflection of the mirror. You prod a little at your roots, and know that you definitely should have waited a little longer to work the bleach up to them. Bollocks.

You've done this enough times to know you'll end up with a gold band haloing around the top of your hair thanks to how easily your roots always lift. Nightmare. 

"Exactly, so you may as well look the part," Danbi encourages. Worst influence going, she is. Also the best at times, too. You find comfort in the fact she won't always say what you want to hear, but what you need to hear instead.

The conversation dissolves into empty chatter, gossip about Danbi's dog walking clients, mentions of Taehyung and how he's still trying to talk her into a mates-rates discount despite the fact they aren't actually 'mates'. She asked you about your Bartender That Smiles, and you say he's all good - before you have to insist there's nothing going on there. 

"He's got issues with his ex," you explain.

She rolls her eyes. "Don't they all? Boys and their first loves, I swear to God."

"Not sure she was his first," you defend, though you're not sure why. The thought lingers as you rummage around for an old tube of toner that you know you have hiding in the bathroom cabinet somewhere. It's been a while since your hair was pale enough to take toner, so it's been pushed right to the back.

Danbi is shooed from her perch on the toilet seat and into the living room as you let the shower run to heat it a little.  

The first crash of water against your skin is lukewarm. Tepid. Unappealing, but necessary. 

You hate anything other than boiling-you-alive degrees celsius, but know you need to be kind to your hair after the torture you've put it through. The water runs cloudy until the bleach is rinsed out, and then it runs purple thanks to your silver shampoo. It pools around your feet and seeps into the drain. Wishful thinking has you hoping memories of Seokjin will do just the same.

It's just to preemptively tone it, but you can't help but worry about the pigment taking too strongly on your roots. 

The ash toner you found in the cupboard is in a box by the sink. You plan on putting that over the top of whatever mess your hair is anyway, but it doesn't hurt to get a head start on the process. 

The water glistens a deep violet, briefly coating your skin - and for some reason, all you can think about is Jungkook, and how you'd really like to be downing a Purple Starfucker (or five) with him right now. He really is the perfect distraction. 

Still, you have a task at hand. You rinse your hair; ring it out. Sigh as you frown at the mess that greets you in the mirror—lilac roots, a yellow band haloing just like your thought it would, and silver ends. Brilliant.

It's as you're sitting with Danbi in the living room a little while later - body wrapped in a towel that isn't half as fluffy as Jungkook's favourite, ashy toner smothering your peroxide blonde hair - that you notice your phone flash on the coffee table.

Danbi clocks it first, and stifles a laugh as she reads the screen. "Isn't that the guy from the club?"

You assume she means Jungkook, and are a little perplexed to see it's Jimin's name on your screen instead. 

"Yeah... Jimin. Smooth talker, shit shagger."

"A glowing review."

"Hey, I still let him think he was good," you say as you reach for your phone to read his message out loud to Danbi. "You guys out tomorrow night?"

Sipping on her wine, Danbi raises a brow. Shakes her head in confusion. "He hoping for round two?"

"Fuck knows."

It's just gone midnight, so you consider maybe he's thinking about his desire for a hook-up, and is hoping for a safe bet in the form of you. 

And so you don't reply. If he double texts, you'll just lie and say you've fallen asleep.

The scent of your toner is beginning to give you a headache, so you go to rinse it and bid farewell to your final day as a brunette.

Sleep evades you. Doesn't want to let go of who you were, apparently. Wine makes you sleepy, and yet you're wired as if you've just had a triple shot americano.

But then it's three in the morning, and all you can seem to smell is the deep conditioner you bathed your hair in that evening. 

Somehow, when you look to the empty space beside you - delicately ruffled, a dent prevailing in the pillow - you convince yourself that you can smell fig leaves and coconut. The notes of his favourite aftershave linger like the ache in your chest. It's hollow, and you can't work out why it hurts quite as much as it does. 

If there's nothing there, how can it be so painful?

You sniff back tears that fail to truly form and pull your phone from beneath your pillow. It's hard to move your fingers when they're tangled up in puppet strings that Seokjin is refusing to let go of, but eventually you manage to tap through some Instagram stories in a bid to distract yourself from him. 

Inspirational quotes don't do much for you, nor do the engagement pictures of people you haven't given a second thought since graduation. There's an abundance of them. Smiling faces. Diamonds, or maybe just cubic zirconia. Fresh sets of nails, hands that are pink and warm from the heat of whoever's been holding them.

It's a curious thought; what people who haven't spoken to you in years must think of you now. 

You were the one who was going to succeed. Going far in life, made for a boardroom, would look incredible in a pantsuit—and yet you're working in a cafe, first-class degree of no more worth than the tissue paper you flush down the toilet. 

See, you switched out life goals for glitter. You wear it like armour; protect yourself from the world around you. Who cares about seriousness and success when you're a constant disco? Not you. Could never be you.

Or at least, you hope that's what people think. Hope that no one realises you're covering yourself in artificial shine; like a canvas in acrylic because you were too impatient to watch the oil paint dry.

One day you'll glow. Glow for real. 

For a while, you thought you had been with Seokjin. 

All you see when you look in the mirror these days is tarnished silver; copper alloy pretending to be much more than what it really is. Your skin will turn green eventually.

There is, however, one person you've managed to fool. 

When his story pops up—a repost of tomorrow night's paint party event at Dionysus—you find yourself clicking through to your DM thread without much thought. You know he's at work. Know it's a 50/50 whether or not he'll get back to you before your mind begins to berate you again for how miserable you feel. 

It's a simple message—hey—and you're pleased that it's met with an equally simple reply not even a minute later.

JustJK: To what do I owe the pleasure?

You decide that "I'm about to cry over my shitbag ex so chose to message you instead" probably won't be Jungkook's favourite thing to hear, so you opt for a little white lie.

You: Just wondering how the kids are &lt;3

Part of you worries he won't understand what the fuck you're on about - but of course, he does. He's Jungkook. Gets you better than you get yourself, these days.

JustJK: Missing their mother. 

JustJK: Perry the Pigeon almost fell earlier.

JustJK: Roger the Robin looks like he has a broken wing.

JustJK: Must be one of yours. Inherited his mother's wonkiness &lt;3

With each message that comes through, your smile grows wider in the midnight darkness of your bedroom. 

You: Careful or I'll file for joint custody.

You: Get poor Roger away from his father's cruel remarks <;/3

There's an ease to how you joke together, both aware of how unserious you are. There's no second-guessing, no worrying about saying the wrong thing. If you do, you'll say sorry and move on. No harm, no foul.

JustJK: Your appeal won't hold up in court, Byeol.

JustJK: You've neglected them ever since you spawned them.

JustJK: Haven't even paid them a visit!!!

Laughter stifles in your throat as your body curls up into a more comfortable position. The audacity of this boy, you think, ignoring the way he manages to get you entirely focused on something that isn't your own despair.

You: You've got full custody!!!

JustJK: And you're still allowed to come for supervised visits!!!!!

JustJK: smh and to think you call yourself their mother.

JustJK: I'm their mother now.

You pout at your screen, and whine a small little 'nooo'. 

You: They need me :(

JustJK: Come and see them, then. They miss their mother.

You: Tomorrow?

He reads the messages instantly, but takes a little longer than usual to reply. It worries you slightly. Makes you more aware of your surroundings. The scent of Seokjin's aftershave begins to permeate the air once more.

Until, all rather suddenly, it doesn't anymore.

JustJK: I'm not working tomorrow night, but Jimin's insisting on going to the paint party—you coming?

You: Will Perry the Pigeon be there?

JustJK: If he falls before I leave for the club, then yes.

It's not a bad proposition. One that quite intrigues you. One that has you agreeing, and him telling you to fuck off and go to sleep. He's got work to do, he says. 

It's actually quite quiet at the club—Yeonjun just caught him looking at his phone with a dumb smile a few too many times for Jungkook's liking. Doesn't wanna get caught out again. 

Especially doesn't want him catching onto the fact that there's a reason Jungkook's eyes light up like Disco Balls when he looks at his phone.

Yeonjun doesn't really have friends who are girls, Jungkook reasons with himself. Won't understand that he's perfectly capable of having a little flirt without it meaning anything more than that—after all, isn't that just what banter is? Friendly flirting? He does it with the boys all the time. Doesn't mean fuck all. Just fun.

Jungkook's a couple of years older than his cerulean-haired coworker, and has learnt the hard way that you really shouldn't escalate friends above the level of purely platonic. One day Yeonjun will realise this. 

For now, though, Yeonjun'll shag anyone who looks at him in the right direction. Has probably already ruined a few good friendships. Doesn't even realise he's done it.

Jungkook trusts himself not to make the same mistakes he's made in the past with you. Thinks that he's pretty happy with how things are. Has missed the dynamics of friendships with girls. Is looking forward to Monday movie night with you and Danbi again.

And yet when he gets home to find Perry the paper pigeon on his bed, he can't help but smile.

You wake up to a picture of the fallen bird in your DMs, and even though you'll whine and complain about it when you see him that evening, all you can do is smile, too.

JustJK: Looks like we're having a wholesome family trip to Dionysus tonight.

You: Mummy and Daddy reunited at last <33 Perry will be so happy.

JustJK: It's okay, you don't have to lie.

JustJK: I know you're talking about yourself, not Perry.

Jungkook doesn't send the message where he tells you not to call him Daddy. Knows you'll read into it; tease him about it. It's not like he's got a thing for it, or anything, he just... maybe wouldn't be opposed to it, and so he'd rather not be called it when he's having casual conversations with you. Wouldn't wanna get flustered. 

Part of you already knows this. Is precisely why you'd said it. It's not really your style, not the kind of thing that gets you going.

But it is also exactly why you choose to end your next message with, 'See you tonight, Daddy x'.

You're laughing as you send it.

And as he receives it, Jungkook groans. Buries his head into his pillow. Crumples Perry a little in the process. Whines. 

"Don't fuck this up, Jungkook."

minors dni | wattpad | series masterlist |

[paintingformike]

really cant stress enough that the way the painting has been set up would be completely senseless if it doesnt inevitably lead in byler endgame. like just on a “critical thinking” and “common sense” standpoint, there would be no point to will lying about the painting and veiling his feelings under el’s name if the outcome wouldn’t shift anything in the el/mike/will love triangle. i know it’s been said a million times before but i just wanted to really make people realize this in a sort of wake up call?

when an act of affection is attributed to someone else through a lie, it’s usually framed in a negative light and is used to invoke strong feelings of sympathy for the character who gets the short end of the stick and hope for things to change in their favor. and i don’t mean like el herself is being framed negatively in this plot point, but just the prospect of the painting coming from her when the idea and the efforts were completely someone else’s gives people the sense that hey, that’s not the full truth and we can’t just let this slide when character A was actually the one who poured all the effort and care into this symbol of love and not character B? character B shouldn’t be getting the credit especially when its a complete lie?

obviously, they’re intentionally making you feel bad for will in this scenario, because all the work and actual feelings poured into the painting were from him. he was the one who made mike feel loved for who he truly was, not el. and i know the full intentions of the writers because this is exactly how i felt watching the van scene for the first time, even way before i actively started rooting for byler to end up together. as soon as he started expressing his feelings under the guise of el i knew i was frustrated. i wanted his tireless love and efforts to be recognized for what they truly were. keep in mind that this was the time i wasn’t invested in the fandom or any of the ships yet. i just wanted will’s feelings to be really seen and heard. i wanted mike to know the truth. then i realized that 9 times out of 10 when writers make you feel all these things for a character, they’re meant to get what they deserve in the end: the one they love.

i hope people actually understand what i’m getting at because it’s just such an obvious situation to me. the idea and the feelings that came with the painting are being attributed to the wrong person, it’s supposed to be a bad thing because it’s framed as if this false attribution seemingly worked more for el and “fixed” her relationship with mike, but happened at the expense of the true source of the love and care in the painting, will. but once the truth comes out it’s finally going to be attributed to the rightful person and what happens next? connect the dots and boom 😭 this is exactly why the painting is all we need for byler endgame because it’s being written as like....the “dead end” to the storyline.

[azreactstowormtheserial]

9 Slaughters, 9 Houses, 9 Tier Lists [11.A-11.H]

Only 1 tier list, actually. Jack made a strong first impression. Let's see how everyone else does. Around the time of 11.D I realized these interludes were structured in a certain way: One of the 8 remaining S9 members recruiting their pick for who should be the 9th. And, if they get their way, 7/8 of these people will die. Each Interlude's them being recruited-- so in a way, this is just one, huge fuckoff interlude for The Slaughterhouse. Lets begin! A -- BITCH [X - SIBERIAN] Yeah, it didn't take long for the warm feeling in my heart on ending base-arc-11 to dissipate. I didn't really know what to make of 'Slaughterhouse 9 is looking for their next member'. I 'kinda thought it was just going to be another villain, not some fucked-up selection gameshow. Someone like Hookwolf. (Huh!) Or, maybe even a fucked-up hero, akin to Armsmaster. But, actually, it's Bitch. They're going after Bitch. Give her a break, Wildbow? Please? Jack made a strong first impression. Let's see how everyone else does. Around the time of 11.D I realized these interludes were structured in a certain way: One of the 8 remaining S9 members recruiting their pick for who should be the 9th. And, if they get their way, 7/8 of these people will die. Each Interlude's them being recruited-- so in a way, this is just one, huge fuckoff interlude for The Slaughterhouse. Lets begin! A -- BITCH [X - SIBERIAN] Yeah, it didn't take long for the warm feeling in my heart on ending base-arc-11 to dissipate. I didn't really know what to make of 'Slaughterhouse 9 is looking for their next member'. I 'kinda thought it was just going to be another villain, not some fucked-up selection gameshow. Someone like Hookwolf. (Huh!) Or, maybe even a fucked-up hero, akin to Armsmaster. But, actually, it's Bitch. They're going after Bitch. Give her a break, Wildbow? Please?

Seeing Bitch smile with her family was nice, though. Even if I think she's wrong, in that being alone from anyone else isn't what she needs. Finding out a little more about her than the snippets Lisa gave us, and her inner thoughts on Taylor, was nice too. And then things, inevitably. went to shit. Not Angelica's Injury or Glory Girl. Siberian.

Oh, no.

That she didn't call Coil, that (spoilers!) she didn't raise the issue in the coming weeks until it was revealed by other means, is telling that she's at a crossroads. B-But, c'mon. There's no way. She'll pick the right path, and use this as the start of a rekindling of her friendship with Taylor-- this being teaming up and beating the shit out of S9. I believe in her! B -- THEO/ONI-LEE [X - JACK SLASH]

Theo, on the other hand, I'm not so sure if I can believe in. Kaiser's Son. Presumably(?) Jack Slash's nominee-- it's left a little vague, given the whole two-years-thing. At least, I think this whole interlude was set in the present day, or at least post-Leviathan. Yep, just checked-- it definitely is. Oni-Lee was Jack's original target, but he wasn't interesting enough. Lucky for him, someone way more interesting was practically handed to him on a silver platter. Theo doesn't seem like a bad kid, especially given his circumstances, but I worry. Jack being a fucked up son of a bitch was fun to watch, though. C -- LABYRINTH [X - Burnscar] This one was my 2nd-favorite. I really like Labyrinth. I think I mentioned earlier that I was hoping to see some more of her? This was exactly what I wanted!

Well, Burnscar could've gone without the scorching of Faultline & Co. , but. I like these glimpses into characters that I just have, like, no idea how they think/operate. Now I have a little bit more of a picture. Labyrinth's one of my favorite side-(ish, now that she's in the spotlight?) characters

I don't even know what this is. Cauldron? Case 53? Faultline and her group of misfits seem intertwined with it all, all but confirmed in the tail-end of Arc 11. I hope Labyrinth is okay. D -- Armsmaster [X - Mannequin]

" I didn't really know what to make of 'Slaughterhouse 9 is looking for their next member' " This one I did see coming, actually. My first prediction! I should write these down so I can properly say 'called it'! What I didn't see coming was me actually giving a shit.

Oh, Colin. This really hurt to read. Why do you have to be a human being? As much as I hate the things you've done--

I don't know. I've left it a while, and I still think about this interlude. Armsmaster hasn't shown up yet at the point in the story I'm at while writing this (13.Something). I'll write about Armsmaster-- Colin, I should get in the habit of humanizing him, if that's what the story wants-- when he's back. E -- Hookwolf [X - Shatterbird]

I 'dunno, Shatterbird. He called you a slur internally a little earlier, and even self-monologued about 'The Aryan Dream', or whatever the hell he's smoking. This one's a lost cause.

While I don't have much to say about this chapter, other than the spectacular action and Shatterbird's cool power-- we'll get there!--- I really like this kind of manipulation S9 are using on their recruits. They aren't like them. But they could be. I'm really scared that one of them will be. It won't be Hookwolf, though. F -- Noelle [Dinah] [X - Crawler]

Hey, look at that! It's my favorite interlude to date! Yeah, even more than Alec's. This one was peak.

Dinah has my favorite power of any character in Worm. It's just so cool... Probability precognition isn't like, an original idea by any means-- but its just so... agh!! ================================= THE "HE KNOWS" BANNER Hello! Everything written after this point is Az knowing up to 19.3 in plot-knowledge. I'll try and leave things as a 'We'll get to that!', but keep in mind that 'he knows'. ================================== Dinah still has my favorite power of any character in Worm! But 11.f is no longer my favorite interlude... Crawler isn't even present in this chapter, but he's described almost like an endbringer. Near-invulnerable, on a mission to fight the strongest thing in the entire city, and willing to crush anyone that steps in his way.

Oh, Dinah...

... G -- Regent [Cherish] [X - Cherish] Regent's French Canadian? Biggest plot twist of worm so far.

Cherish is great. I love girlboss psychopaths, and she's 'kind of hit the nail on the coffin.

Nominating Alec for the nine out of spite is a take that I'm all here for, though. But what's this now-- Bitch and Alec? Have it their way, and one of them at the very least's dead.

H -- Amy [X - Bonesaw] Not to cut this short, because it's a great interlude and all, but I'll talk about Amy in my upcoming megapost on 12.1-19.3. A lot of ground to cover, I know. Bonesaw, too. Instead, here's my Tierlist of the 9, taking into account their actions throughout Arcs 12, 13 and 14: S [Slaughter Tier!] -- Jack Slash, Bonesaw, Mannequin A [Ahhhhhh Tier..] -- Siberian, Cherish, B [Didn't do that much Tier] -- Burnscar, Crawler, C [Regent-owned Tier] -- Shatterbird

The reason this all took so long is that Worm is really good, and I keep reading it instead of writing about reading about it. Sorry... See you next time for either 12.1-14.X or 12.1-19.3, depending on my attention span.

[deltaruminations]

saw a discussion in a lore channel re: connections between the ideas of “74” and dessknight(1). i don’t have strong opinions about whether the narrative of 74 warrants close comparison to dessknight. i do however think it warrants comparison to dess as the angel. so i wrote a bunch of shit about that lol

(1) obviously 74 itself is a collaborative work that is as much Itoki Hana’s as it is Toby Fox’s, and it’s not About Deltarune and is not meant to be literally descriptive or predictive of any event in Deltarune. but especially given that deltarune has already directly referenced 74’s melody in its soundtrack, i think it’s fair to discuss how deltarune might be pulling from a similar well of themes and narrative interests, and how deltarune might be using 74 as an intertextual reference to underpin its ideas. anyway

on its own terms, 74 is a narrative of subverted damselhood — the “princess” to be “rescued” is actually a monster of some kind, her captivity an illusion that she herself constructed in order to lure in unsuspecting “heroes” who will inevitably fall to her monsters and traps. she does this in order to feel “special” — maybe because she enjoys the fantasy of being desired and pursued as a beautiful maiden rather than being seen as the monster she really is. when the 74th hero manages, against all odds, to reach her, she’s impelled to end him herself, because if she were to be “rescued,” she would no longer be able to enjoy her fantasy.

we can identify a few ideas that this story might share with a hypothetical Angel Dess narrative:

dess has been presented as a ”damsel” — a lost girl needing to be found. at present, the game uses a few techniques to emphasize her presentation as “helpless” and “innocent”: the UNUSED strings (assuming they are, in fact, dess) depict her in moments of childlike fear, possibly in the moments when she first disappeared; and most of the information we have about dess comes from a time before she disappeared, when she would have been a child or teenager, which contributes to a picture of powerlessness.

if dess is the “angel,” however, this means the “powerlessness” is, if not a facade, then an incomplete picture: she’s actually achieved a significant degree of at least coercive power in the time since she went missing, enough power to be able to “pull the strings” of fate and potentially do such things as silence spamton for offering spoilers about the knight, or discard gaster’s vessel, or railroad narration so that kris can open a fountain in defiance of The Legend.

as previously speculated, dess as the “angel” might be complicit in enforcing or even constructing aspects of deltarune’s “canon,” because this story has become her primary source of comfort and “control” in a situation that she believes can never change for the better. this is not the gleeful, fully intentional and empowered narrative-construction of 74’s princess, but it does share the basic idea of a “damsel” crafting or at least maintaining her own prison — in this case, it may be less out of a desire to feel “special,” but rather due to internalized helplessness in the face of a cruel fate, and possibly a desire to see herself as something other than a “damsel” or “victim.”

in the time since she disappeared, dess may have created a fantasy around herself in order to cope with her situation: a fantasy of being the world’s champion or hero, whereby she’s able to “watch over” and “protect” noelle and her other family and friends, ensure that they get to live out their “journeys” and “roles” (things that she, herself, was denied when her place in the story was taken from her), and maybe ensure some kind of “peace” for them in the end. she feels that deltarune’s story is her story — and it’s comforting to her because she knows how it goes. she knows exactly how bad it is, as well as how good it is. dess may have been missing for so long that she’s stopped imagining what a new future for herself could look like; the idea of being found or helped might even frighten her, because it would rip this new norm of comfort and “safety” from her and force her to reckon with an uncertain future — to reckon with change.

so, similarly to the case of 74’s princess, “rescue” represents an existential threat to this “damsel” — it threatens the fantasy of control and greater purpose that she’s created for herself. and, like the princess, dess as “angel” might fight back against anyone who intends to “rescue” her, in order to preserve her self-perception — maybe the very idea that she needs “help” is, in itself, offensive to her, whether or not it might be true.

as mentioned previously, the 74 reference in “WELCOME TO THE CITY” (specifically the weird route version) is immediately relevant to noelle’s situation in the weird route, as it echoes the way that the player’s actions in this route twist and subvert noelle’s potential “damsel”-hood by forcing her into “monstrous” behavior, making her into a prisoner of the player rather than of the queen — simultaneously victimizing her and making her “stronger,” both in terms of increasing her coercive force and of pushing her to question kris’s changes in behavior, possibly “waking her up” to the presence of the player. the persistence of the “gastery” part of the melody in the weird route version might reflect his role and responsibility in enabling the player to take these actions.

but this stripped-down pairing of melodies — 74 and gaster’s theme — could also reflect a broader conflict between the angel and gaster; where a normal route might keep these forces simmering in the background, the weird route, in its transformative extremity and its effects on noelle’s awareness, might be starting to expose and escalate that conflict.

so, we could say that the 74 motif here suggests parallels between noelle and dess’s subverted “damsel”-hoods and paradoxical acquisitions of “power” by way of “helplessness” – maybe noelle wouldn’t have come to question kris’s situation if she hadn’t been subjected to the cruelty of the weird route, just as dess wouldn’t have become aware of “fate” or been able to “pull its strings” if she hadn’t been subjected to the cruelty of being ripped from in-universe existence. we could also say that its presence (if it does, in some part, represent dess-as-angel) reflects dess’s role in controlling noelle’s fate and precluding her (and the rest of the world) a better future in order to prop up her own self-concept as the World’s Protector — the direct foil to gaster’s reckless experimentation with that fate as the World’s Liberator – in a conflict brought to its head by the new variable of player involvement.

perhaps the angel, gaster, and the player all have something in common: they’re all “Eldritch,” out-of-universe forces who are simultaneously powerful in unusual, metaphysical ways, yet still operate from perspectives of “powerlessness” and limitation – the angel can pull the strings of fate, but either can’t or won’t change that fate on her own; gaster can engineer systems that enable change, but can’t implement in-universe change himself, either because he’s physically incapable of it, or because the angel prevents it; and the player can implement in-universe change (by acting through a vessel), but is bound by the options imposed on them by the other two, only able to create their “own” options through oversights or “exploits” – and all three of these forces are making choices about the fate of a world that, itself, has been given no say in the matter.

in conclusion. 74 is a good song. bye

[lemoncrushh]

Out of Bounds - Chapter 7

STORY PAGE

Word Count: 2961

"You're fucking kidding me!" exclaimed Justine.

"Nope," I shook my head and took a sip of my iced water, hoping the entire restaurant hadn't heard her.

We had agreed to meet for lunch at El Toro's for fajitas on a Saturday afternoon. I'd let Justine get about halfway through her margarita before clueing her in on what had been going on between Harry and me since that night at Mikado's.

"Damn, woman!" she said in a loud whisper.

"You think bad of me, don't you?" I cringed.

Justine sighed. "No. No, hon, I don't. Who the hell am I to judge?"

I bit my cheek and looked down at my plate.

"I could tell something was up when I saw you last."

I raised my head with wide eyes. "Nothing was going on between us then, I swear."

"No, I mean your marriage. You didn't seem happy when I asked you about it."

I thought for a moment. "But that doesn't justify my cheating, does it?"

Justine gave me a sympathetic smile. Instead of answering my question, she asked me another one. "How bad is it?"

"That's the thing, Justine. It's not bad. It's just...okay."

Justine was silent, waiting for me to continue. I sighed.

"I know he loves me. He's very good to me. And when I told him I wanted to go back to school, he was very supportive."

"But he doesn't know about Harry, does he?" Justine asked, eyes wide.

"No!" I shook my head with nervous laughter. "At least, not in that way. He knows about the partnership in Soc. class. But that's all."

"But you're together all the time, right? He's bound to suspect something."

I shrugged again. "I don't think James is the type of person to suspect anything. Jealousy is not in his nature."

Our waiter came by to check on us and refill my water. When he'd left, Justine asked me the question I'd hoped she wouldn't ask.

"What do you think he'll do if he finds out?"

I closed my eyes, wishing for a moment that I hadn't confessed to her. Or moreover, that there had been nothing to confess. That I could make it all go away, turn back time. But how far back would I go? To that night at Harry's apartment? Before we'd had sex? Or further back - to the day we'd met. Maybe I wouldn't have let him sit next to me. No, the truth was I feeling guilty. Up to now I had been justifying my actions, denying that what I was doing was wrong. But Justine's question, the inevitable question, brought me back to reality. And the question wasn't if he finds out, but when.

"I don't know, Justine," I shook my head. "I have no idea what I'll do either."

Justine pursed her lips. Then she folded her hands on the table and leaned forward. "Is this just about sex?"

"What do you mean?"

"I mean...you know..." Justine tilted her head. "Is it just physical with you and Harry, or are there feelings involved?"

I blinked. "I guess...well, I guess it's just sex. I mean, I like him. Actually, I really like him. But I don't think I'm in love with him, if that's what you mean."

Justine nodded. "Good."

"Why is that good?" I asked, although I knew the answer.

"Because..." she started. Then she stopped and took a deep breath. "Because, if you were, I'd tell you that you're walking on thin ice. And that you have a serious decision to make. And I'd hope that this time you make the right one."

Her words cut through me like a knife. I knew exactly what she was referring to, but neither of us chose to pursue that topic. For that I was grateful.

The next week was pretty uneventful. Harry and I got another A on our Sociology project. After getting a B on my English paper for Pride and Prejudice, I decided to step up my game and spend almost all my free time reading Wuthering Heights so that I could get a head start on that report. Harry was a bit disappointed that I had to reduce our time together, but he understood.

I never told him about my lunch with Justine. It was always on the tip of my tongue, but I concluded that it wasn't worth bringing up. I knew it was selfish of me, but I liked things the way they were for the time being. Harry was great company, but I knew it was purely a physical relationship. I was in a content, albeit virtually sexless marriage with someone I knew loved me. The only thing I really needed to focus on now was school.

On Friday morning, after History class, and after Harry and I had said our goodbyes, I grabbed a coffee at the snack bar and sat on a bench outside to read my book which I had almost finished. It was a lovely autumn day, my favorite time of year. I was so engrossed in the story that I almost didn't hear my name called. I looked up to see Zack, Harry's roommate, waving at me with his own cup of coffee in his other hand.

"Hey!" I exclaimed, somewhat shocked to see him. I had yet to run into any of Harry's friends on campus.

"What are you reading?" he asked as he sat down beside me.

"Wuthering Heights," I answered, lifting the book and showing him the cover.

"Let me guess...Professor Lloyd."

"How did you know?"

"I had her last year," Zack replied. "You think it's going to be easy because all you have to do is read and write papers. Ended up being one of the hardest classes. She's a tough broad."

"Tell me about it. I got a B on my first paper. I thought it was really well-written."

"A B?" Zack shook his head. "Then you're doing great. I got a D on my first one. Ended up passing with a C average."

I groaned. "I just really want to prove to myself that I can be an A student."

"Then don't give up," he grinned. "I'm sure you'll get there."

"Thanks," I smiled. "So, how come I've never seen you around?"

"I usually have a class at this time, but the teacher didn't show up today."

"Oh," I nodded. "Do you have any classes with Harry? I haven't even thought to ask him that."

Zack shook his head. "Not this semester. Last year we had almost all of our classes together. We got on each other's nerves so much, we had to duke it out a couple times."

"Like an actual fist fight?" I asked with wide eyes.

"Yep. We each wanted the other one to move out because we were so sick of each other, but then we realized we were the best roommates. And neither of us could afford to live alone."

"I'll bet," I chuckled. "You have other friends though, right? Grayson...and Joey?"

"Joey's an old friend of mine from high school. And I wouldn't live with him if you paid me."

I laughed louder.

"And we just met Grayson this summer when he started working at Mikado's."

"Oh, okay. So how long have you known Harry?"

"Since the summer before. We started at Mikado's on the same day. We got along really well and learned that we were both looking for a place to live. Our manager at the time was about to move out of his apartment and told us about it. It was rent controlled so we jumped on it."

"Cool. So when did he date Alison?" I asked, curiosity getting the best of me.

"Oh you heard about her, huh?" Zack smirked.

"As a matter of fact, I saw her. When I was with Harry."

"Yeah? That must have been awkward."

"She didn't see us, I don't think. So what's their story, if you don't mind my asking?"

Zack took a breath and thumbed the edge of his styrofoam cup. "Well, he dated her for almost a year I guess. In fact, she used to work with us."

"Really?" I tried not to act surprised as I brushed my hair back with my fingers.

"Yeah, she started on the same day too. She was a hostess. They had gone through a major overhaul at the restaurant and hired a large batch of new people. So we all went through orientation and training together."

"Oh, I see," I said as I took a sip of my now luke-warm coffee.

"Anyway," Zack continued, "It was obvious they both had a thing for each other. Soon after Harry and I moved in together, they started dating. And I guess it was going pretty well, at least from my point of view. Then Alison started showing serious signs of...I don't know...craziness."

"Craziness? How?"

"Like she was super possessive of him. And jealous of any girl she saw him talking to. I mean, he was a waiter, right?" he commented with a shrug.

"Right."

"And around this time was when our manager had decided to start training us at the bar. So of course there were women coming up to the bar. And...c'mon, Harry's a charming guy."

I nodded with a grin.

"Alison would just about have a cow. Not in the restaurant or anything, but afterwards. Several times I'd catch Harry and her in the back parking lot fighting. Finally, she quit."

"Oh my God. Did she think he was cheating on her?"

"I don't know," Zack shrugged again. "They didn't break up. But apparently she couldn't watch him with other women, even if they were the ones doing the flirting, not him."

"Hmm," I said through pursed lips. I supposed in a way I couldn't blame her. "So what happened then?"

"They were together, but not together, if that makes sense. From what Harry told me, he was sort of afraid to break up with her. But he was working a lot, I think mostly to avoid her."

"That doesn't sound good."

"No. And you know how I said we had a lot of classes together? Well imagine that, plus living together and working together. I think with all that combined with the Alison crap, Harry had had enough. He blew a fuse. He came home one night and I don't even remember what now, but I said something to piss him off and he decked me." Zack made a punching motion with his fist.

"Damn," I murmured.

"So after that he was looking for a place to live. Alison had offered to let him stay with her, but he didn't really want to. Finally, she basically told him she'd had enough, that if he didn't love her back, she wanted nothing more to do with him."

"Ah," I voiced.

"After we'd patched things up, Harry told me that he just wasn't in love with her. He said he had a hard time loving someone that possessive."

"I can understand that."

"I've probably said too much," Zack chortled.

"No, I appreciate it. When I asked Harry about her, he just said things didn't work out."

"That's Harry," he nodded with a pause. Then he added, "Listen, I know he hasn't know you very long, but he seems to like you a lot."

"He does?" I almost dropped my cup, which thankfully was almost empty.

"Definitely. He talks about you a lot."

"Yeah, well wh—" I started to ask before Zack cut me off.

"Speak of the devil," he snorted.

I looked up to see Harry walking toward us.

"What's this?" he asked with his lopsided grin.

"Just chatting," I replied. I stood up and put my book in my backpack, then threw my cup in the trash can next to the bench.

"I should get to class," Zack announced. "Hopefully this teacher shows up. Nice talking to you, Tisa."

"You too, Zack."

"See ya, bro," Zack said to Harry, patting him on the shoulder as he turned to leave.

"You have the sweetest friends," I told Harry.

"What were you chatting about?" he asked.

I gazed up into his emerald eyes. "You, of course."

"What are you wearing?" Harry asked in his raspy voice.

"Harry!" I whispered loudly.

I heard him chuckle on the other end. He'd had to work that night and had just gotten home. I imagined him lying in his bed, shirtless with his arm folded behind his head, cell phone in his other hand.

"You're not gonna tell me?"

"Just a t-shirt and shorts," I said. "Nothing sexy."

"Sounds sexy to me."

I rolled my eyes, grateful that he couldn't see me. "If you say so."

"I do say so."

"Whatever, Styles." I propped up my pillows and crawled underneath the covers, getting comfortable. James was asleep in the next room, and I prayed he wouldn't awake to hear our conversation. But as I heard the low groan of his snores through the wall, I figured I was safe.

"Aren't you going to ask me what I'm wearing?"

"Huh?" I jumped from Harry's question.

"Don't you want to know?"

I raised an eyebrow. "I don't know, do I?"

Harry chuckled once again, making me sigh. So not only was he shirtless, but pantless as well. This boy was going to be the death of me.

"You have nothing on," I said, not as a question but a statement.

"Mmm, but d'you know what I wish was on me?"

"Stop it."

"Your sweet little—"

"Stop it!" I exclaimed, cutting him off.

"Babe, are you blushing?"

"Never."

Harry sighed. "You don't like dirty talk?"

"Not on the phone," I answered.

"No? Phone sex is not your thing?"

"Nah," I said, nonchalantly. The truth was, I'd never done it before. The thought of it sort of made me feel uneasy. And I wasn't about to start with my husband sleeping on the other side of the wall.

"Alright then," Harry conceded, dropping the subject. "So tell me what you did today."

"Um...well, not much really. I worked some on my English paper. Almost finished with it. How was work?"

"Exhausting."

"Yeah? Did you wait tables or tend bar?"

"Bar," Harry replied. "Grayson was with me this time, and he's one of my best mates so that made it fun. But my back is killing me now."

"I'm sorry," I said in a pouty voice. "Wish I could rub it for you."

"Mmm, that would be nice," he yawned.

I imagined being there with Harry, rubbing his back, making him feel better. I almost thought for a moment that he'd fallen asleep until I heard him speak again.

"Do you recall that girl that took your seat at the bar that night?"

"Um...the brunette you mean?" I asked, rolling my eyes. "Britney?"

"That's the one. She was there again tonight."

"Ugh, seriously?"

"Yeah, she asked me out."

"She...what?" I felt my heart pounding.

"Well, not directly, but in so many words. She kept flirting with me and asking her friend if we would make a great couple."

That bitch! 

"What did you say?" I asked. I suddenly felt sick to my stomach. I knew I had no right; he wasn't like my boyfriend or...actually I didn't know what he was. I promised myself I was not going to be like Alison.

"I told her thanks," he replied with a smile in his voice.

"That's all?" I despised his deliberate teasing.

"Well, she mentioned something about her brother having a Halloween party and I should come."

"Oh." Halloween was next Friday.

"But then Grayson chimed in and mentioned his party."

"Grayson's having a Halloween party?"

"He is now," Harry laughed.

"What?"

"He was just being a good mate, seeing as Britney was kind of all over me and making me uncomfortable. So he said something like, 'Sorry, Harry will be at my party Friday night'. Soon after that, Britney and her friend had gone and Grayson and I were having a laugh about it. Then he said, 'Why the hell not? Let's have a party'. So there you go."

"Silly boys," I mocked.

"So do you think you'll be able to come?" Harry asked.

I was taken aback. I hadn't really expected an invite. "Um...well...I don't know."

"I'd like you to be my date, Tisa, but if that's too awkward, you can bring a friend."

"Like Justine?"

"Yeah, her," said Harry. "I like her."

"We old gals won't cramp your style?" I joked.

"Old? What the fuck do you mean old?"

I giggled. "Oh, Harry, you keep me young."

"Do you honestly think you're old?" Harry asked.

"Sometimes."

"Not even close. Besides, age is just a number."

"I know, you're right," I sighed.

"Plus you're fucking gorgeous."

"Harry."

"What? You are."

We were both silent for a moment or two. Finally, I whispered, "Thank you."

"I don't like for this to be our topic of conversation, but I have a feeling your husband doesn't realize how lucky he is."

"Harry," I repeated, closing my eyes.

"I know. Nevermind." I heard him let out a deep breath. "I suppose I should say goodnight."

"Okay."

"Please consider coming to the party. Whatever you have to do. I want you there."

"Alright, I'll call Justine tomorrow."

"Great. Goodnight, Tisa."

"'Night, Harry."

As I turned off my phone, I wondered what I would tell James. Even if he wasn't suspicious of my friendship with Harry, he still might wonder why I would be going to a Halloween party at a college boy's apartment. I decided it might be best to just tell him I was going out with Justine. One more little white lie...

MASTERLIST | KO-FI | FEEDBACK

[notmoreflippingelves]

For the pairing ask meme: Jo/Laurie from Little Women (really curious about it!) And Carla/Mateo from EoA (because kinda love your Mateo roasting and takes 😁)

Jo/Laurie (????)

This is hard, because I don't know whether I ship it or not. I do but I don't. I think if I were to guess I'd say overall, I primarily don't except for Winona Ryder!Jo/Christian Bale! Laurie from Little Women (1994). I guess I'm going to go with "no" overall, because honestly as much as I love that adaptation, Christian Bale Laurie is arguably too "cool"/suave compared to book!Laurie (who tbh is more than a bit pathetic sometimes). Like I'm genuinely a little "What are you thinking?" when Winona!Jo turns Bale!Laurie down but I am mostly okay with it in all other incarnations. I do also mostly like Amy/Laurie and Jo/Bhaer as much if not more , so yeah I'm not really cut up about it Jo/Laurie not being endgame.

Why don’t you ship it?

For me, it's largely that there is a sense (more pronounced in some adaptions than others) that Laurie wants to be a March Girl™ (gender-neutral) more than he wants to be Jo's life-partner which is not really the idea ship vibe--even if I can't exactly blame him as I too would do almost anything to be a March Girl. Like sure Jo was his first choice by far and I do believe that his eventual relationship with Amy is genuinely based on more than "settling"--but I also feel relatively sure that he might have hypothetically settled for Beth or Meg under other circumstances. And that's just not a solid start for a relationship, if your s.o. could've hypothetically is always low-key considering your sibling as a backup plan if things go south with you too. (I mean you could say that the same is true of Laurie/Amy, but I do think it's less bad b/c Amy has literally been in love with Laurie since she was 12 and because overall their personalities "mesh" a little better than Jo/Laurie).

I also worry a bit about how Laurie's wealth might hypothetically impact the Jo/Laurie relationship. I do think that he would continue to be supportive of her writing and theatrical dreams, but I can also see him overcompensating/supporting her "too much." Unlike Bhaer, I don't think Laurie is capable of offering her constructive criticism that is necessary for her work to improve. He's too much of an inherent simp who thinks Jo March is already the most amazing human to ever exist (again can't totally blame him for that) to even conceive of the possibility that she has genuine strengths and weaknesses. I can also see him throwing his money and influence around a little in order to get her published/earning favorable reviews. Jo is fiercely independent and so achieving her dreams on her own terms/by her own merit is supremely important to her--arguably more important than her achieving them at all. Laurie interfering in her career even positively/with good intentions would inevitably cause a lot of conflict between them and create some self-doubt of Jo as to whether she really "earned"/"deserves" her success at all.

What would have made you like it?

As I mentioned I do sort of like it even as I also dislike it. I guess I would like it more consistently/wish it was endgame if Laurie was just a wee bit less eager/obsessed/convinced they were "meant to be." Also if we had a stronger sense that Jo herself wanted the romance specifically as opposed to just Laurie staying in her life. Another thing that makes me a little wary about Jo/Laurie is the meta-aspect of knowing that Louisa May Alcott was very adamant about not wanting them together. Her publisher pretty much insisted that Jo needed to find love in Part 2 and so she created Professor Bhaer in order to give Jo an alternate love interest

Despite not shipping it, do you have anything positive to say about it?

A lot, especially since I don't not ship it even if I don't ship it. Their "meet cute" scene at the ball is one of my favorite scenes in the book and arguably one of my favorite "character introduction scenes" in all of literature. I think that the two of them have great chemistry and a really supportive dynamic. They care deeply about each other and have so much fun together. (You see this as well in the sequels. Even though they're both romantically with other people, they are still go-to confidants and partners-in-mischief for each other).

I also think that narratively Jo/Laurie has to "work" on some level in order to justify the direction that story takes. The first time that you encounter the story, the reader/viewer needs to really like them together and assume that them being endgame is inevitable. It gives Jo's decision to reject his proposal more poignancy and agency. She needs to love him deeply and know that he loves her--even if they can't love each other in the same way--in order to fully be able to choose herself and her goals over him. If he's not an otherwise desirable option, her choice not to choose him isn't a real choice. She needs to be conflicted, tempted even, if her decision to prioritize her own dreams and needs over his and her family's is to hold any real weight.

And Alcott (and most of the adaptions) do a fantastic job of making Jo/Laurie seem plausible/desirable so that the rejected proposal emotionally fulfills its narrative purpose for Jo's character development (and a lesser extent Laurie's and Amy's as well).

Carla/Mateo (I ship it albeit very low-key though Carla probably deserves better)

What made you ship it?

Probably their interactions in late S3 most of all (especially the finale). I think there is clearly attraction and chemistry between them. They seem to have similar, slightly dorky and clumsy personalities that seem like they would mesh well. And shallow , I know, but their character models are also attractive and look good together.

What are your favorite things about the ship?

Is it bad if I say that I like how easily Rita!Carla was able to make Mateo look like the biggest fool in all Avalor?

I think there is a lot of potential for the two of them to bond. They're both very family-oriented, and I think there's a lot of potential for them to grow closer as being the only (and a little coddled/spoiled) children of very loving but somewhat smothering single parents (Victor and Rafa)--as well as missing their absent other parents (Ash and Mateo's father).

They are also arguably THE characters (well them, Victor, and Olivia) who are most actively interested in learning magic. (Gabe and Elena express some curiosity but specifically in the context of magic being a tool to protect the kingdom as opposed to something they want to learn just for itself). So it's nice to think of magic being another way that they can grow closer/flirt/have fun together.

I also adore the Delgado father and daughter relationship and enjoy thinking about how Carla/Mateo would impact Victor and his relationship with his daughter. Whether he's supportive (most likely) or hesitant (my personal head canon), it has the potential to be really fun/funny and heartwarming.

Is there an unpopular opinion you have on your ship?

Carla/Mateo is one of the only Mateo ships that I can tolerate. Sorry not sorry. It's this and like two non-existent rare pairs . And even then, I don't think I am ever doing more than casually enjoying it, since my Mateo indifference is so strong. (I do really like Carla though and have a few more ships with her).

[wonderfulworldofmichaelford]

Is It Really That Bad?

The hand of fate is moving, and the finger points to you, Nicolas Cage.

The Wicker Man is a classic folk horror film known for its unique tone, musical numbers, Christopher Lee, and its iconic titular structure. Movies like Midsommar owe a lot to this film; it’s certainly not a film I love, as I’m not big on movies about cults, but I can appreciate it at least.

Now, as with any classic horror film, it was inevitable it would get remade, and if there’s one genre where remakes actually have a real shot at being great, it’s the horror genre. The Thing, The Fly, The Blob, all of these films managed to take a terrifying story told once before and twist and recontextualize it for a new audience, and all three of those films are classics in their own right. So you’d think remaking a film in which an intolerant but well-meaning cop is led to his death as his ignorance is preyed upon by a charismatic cult of pagans would go well, right? There has to be some biting social commentary or some unique elements to this film, especially seeing as the setting was updated to America! Setting the film in New England or the deep South, places rife for the sort of horror the original played with…

Oh, wait, it’s set on a weird fictional island? And the cult is some matriarchy that’s meant to show a reverse patriarchy…? And it’s not a musical?

Yeah, no, this movie didn’t exactly do much to win people over. Quite a few actors from the original were highly critical of it, particularly Christopher Lee and Ingrid Pitt, and the original director Robin Hardy had his name removed from the credits out of disgust at the state of the film. Edward Woodward, the original film’s star, turned down an opportunity for a cameo, which speaks volumes about what he thought. Nicolas Cage has been pretty open about thinking the film was absurd, and critics basically laughed the film right into bombing. It’s safe to say Universal, who had been trying for years to get this remake off the ground, were likely regretting ever allowing the project to come to fruition. All in all, the whole thing is a monumental travesty notable only for some meme-worthy content within.

But is that really all this misguided remake has going for it? Is its legendary badness overexaggerated, or is it truly like watching the world exploding every single night? Well, I’m here to answer that for you as I determine whether or not The Wicker Man is really that bad after all.

THE GOOD

This movie’s saving grace, and what you most likely know it best for, is just how batshit insane it is, to the point of it being one of the funniest unintentional comedies this side of The Happening. Of course, there’s the infamous line about the bees, but if you’ve actually sat down and watched the movie you’ll know that line (which only appears near the very end of the extended cut) is merely the tip of the iceberg. You have schoolgirls chanting “Phallic symbol,” you have hallucinated girls getting run over by trucks on boats, and you have Nicolas Cage kung fu fighting angry women which culminates with him dressing in a bear suit, sprinting across a field, and sucker punching someone. It’s just an insane ride.

Of course, all of this is carried by Nicolas Cage. He realized what this movie was when making it, and in true Cage fashion brought the ham and cheese to make a perfect B-movie sandwich. His delivery of lines such as when he’s asking if two women have a shark in a bag or demanding to know how something got burned really are something else, and it all builds to that beautiful delivery of “NOT THE BEES,” the crown jewel of an utterly bonkers Cage performance. It became a meme for a reason, even if it isn’t notably crazier than many of the other lines.

If you can give this movie credit for anything, it’s for not being a straight up remake. Like yes, the basic premise—a detective goes to investigate an island and ends up sacrificed by a cult—is the same, and it doesn’t take advantage of being set in New England like it should, but this is a wildly different take with a different cult and different situations than the original film. It’s more akin to a remake like The Thing or The Fly than Van Sant’s Psycho, for what that’s worth. Though, on the other hand, this will be the only time this movie is ever mentioned positively in the same sentence as the former two movies because...

THE BAD

So, you know how I said it was good this movie decided to go in its own direction? That’s all well and good, obviously, but it would seriously help if that direction didn’t suck. This is a remake that just completely and utterly misses the point of why people like the original. There’s no musical numbers, the plot is dumbed down to extreme levels, the new additions and characterizations are just not really built into anything interesting… Sure, Nicolas Cage is a far more likable protagonist than the original guy (which is a low bar to clear considering what a judgmental douche the original’s protag was), but they don’t really do much interesting. They took a cult classic notable for its musical numbers, expert use of folk horror, and Christopher Lee and turned it into a bargain bin B-movie.

And that’s not even getting into the… questionable political message. Neil LaBute made the decision to turn the cult into a matriarchal society to show what would happen when patriarchal power dynamics were reversed, and the end result is exactly as problematic as you might imagine. With how divorced from reality any aspect of the cult is from a patriarchal society (I don’t see women having their tongues literally cut out or being sacrificed in pagan rituals very often), the entire film comes off as the anti-feminist version of Save the Pearls. Like maybe this idea could have been executed better, but it feels like the idea only someone who really hates women would want to even try and attempt. Like what point are we trying to get to, anyway? That everyone sucks? Do you really want to sit through a movie with a foregone conclusion where that’s the message? I get wanting to mix things up, but this was not a good direction to take the cult.

And of course there is the most damning element at play here: This movie is not even remotely scary. It has weird, surreal imagery, and as a horror remake it’s trying to be tense and unnerving, but between the idiotic anti-feminist angle and Cage hamming it up the whole thing comes off like a giant farce.

IS IT REALLY THAT BAD?

As a horror film? Yes, this movie is pretty bad. But as a comedy? This film is a classic.

I’ve always believed that if a film fails at its main goal but still manages to be funny, it’s not a worthless film. But that’s the thing: This film still failed. It tried to be a folk horror film that wanted to make you feel suspense and mystery, and instead gave a screwy comedy where Nicolas Cage punches women and overacts. That 3.7 on IMDB might even be a bit generous if I’m being honest. This film is firmly in the “so bad it’s good” category.

Still, if you’re a Nicolas Cage film buff, this movie is absolutely a must-see; it’s one of his greatest batshit insane performances ever. And like I said, it’s a bad film with a lot of value. This isn’t complete trash, and cinema is honestly better for this film existing. Most horror remakes of the 2000s through the early 2010s ended up merely being forgettable garbage that no one talks about a few years after it drops. Does anyone even care about that A Nightmare on Elm Street reboot or the remake of House of Wax? Does anyone even know they remade The Wizard of Gore? But this baffling remake no one asked for and that no one wanted of one of the greatest horror films ever made has not only endured, it has become a progenitor of memes. I’ll take unforgettable garbage over run-of-the-mill cookie cutter trash any day of the week.