#because it's stupid and that was mostly the point

[vviltrumite]

— teenage fantasy ୭ˎˊ˗

⚛ mark grayson x you

wc :: 4,316 ( 23,442 char . )

rating :: nsfw

synopsis :: your brother started hanging out with this new kid—mark, you think his name is? you wondered why this new person was seemingly always around your brother, and tonight when he sleeps over you finally find out why.

contents :: brothers best friend , riding , slight age gap , sub mark , little plot , reader pov , mark is a little weirdo with a crush on u......

a/n :: I LOVE SUBMISSIVE MARK GRAYSON!!!!!!pushed the timeline of this back for the sole purpose of creating an age gap between u and mark. why? because i freaking felt like it ok maybe i like em younger. he's a sophomore, ur a senior. also for the sake of convenience were just gonna pretend that ur on the pill. ok? ok.

edit: Lol tumblr being stupid and deleted 3 paragraphs of writing but it's ok we fixed it😅ahaha😅😅I'm gonna shoot myself😅

Your brother had never been too ecstatic about friends. Not that he didn't want them, it was the actually keeping them part that he struggled with. Seemed like he could never keep the company of a friend for longer than a few months before they fell out with eachother, and whenever you would try to ask about it he would dismiss your attempt by simply saying something along the lines of "We just don't have time to talk as much anymore." or, "They're busy with sports and crap."

But more recently you've noticed that your brother was hanging out with someone new, and this time it was different. He would never fail to show up at your house during the weekends, always finding his way to your living room to play video games with your brother or making room for himself to fit in with whatever your family might have had going on that day, whether it be a dinner out at a restaurant, or even a trip to the movies, he always found time to tag along. He was practically part of the family, and it seemed like him and your brother were actually getting along quite nicely. You'd hear them from his room laughing about something unbeknownst to you just one wall over, or yelling about a game they were playing on his console and it made you glad to know that your brother finally had someone to confide in.

The boy seemed sweet with good intentions. Mark, you think his name is? Black hair with a few strands that never fail to stray from the combed back neatness of the rest of his hair and brown eyes that remind you of a warm coffee on a Saturday morning that you sip when your eyes are still tired and droopy, still on the edge of sleep but not quite. It would be a lie to say he wasn't handsome, but you never really gave him much more thought than that. You go to the same school as him, he's just two grades below you in his sophomore year with grades that aren't yet failing but theres still potential for them to be a lot better, but you chose to give him the benefit of the doubt since you heard from multiple sources that his father died in a car crash at the start of the year, so who knows how he's coping with that.

But that's not the point. the point is, Mark is now practically best friends with your brother and tonight, since your parents are away on a date, he's invited Mark to sleep over. Not that you really cared, you didn't pay him too much mind whenever he would come over since he wasnt your friend anyways. You mostly occupied the time in your room, but you never failed to notice the way he would try extra hard not to look at you whenever you made an appearance and still finding himself unsuccessful. Always stealing quick glances over to you and whatever you were doing. Always noticing the way he suddenly adorned a stutter—something which he had never had before, whenever he'd speak to your brother, pitching his voice an octave louder enough for you to hear.

Your day went on as it usually did, aside from those quick glances that Mark prayed you didn't notice. You always did, but never thought much of it. Maybe he was just intimidated by you, or something? You called your friends, made plans for the following morning, and before you knew it, the smell of food downstairs caught your attention. Glancing at the clock on your phone, it was now six, so you assume the smell downstairs is dinner.

Heading to your kitchen you realize that your brother and Mark had made french fries and were sharing them on a big plate on the counter. You help yourself to a fry, quickly snatching one from the plate before your brother has the opportunity to swat your hand away.

You crack a smile when he almost chokes on the fry he popped into his mouth when he turns to see you, and that only seems to make his cheeks redden. he tries making an attempt at playing it off by pressing the crook of his shoulder against his mouth and coughing into the faded blue of his cotton sweater sleeve, trying to disguise the malfunction, but any attempt he makes at hiding his embarrassment only points it out further.

"Get outta here! Those aren't even for you, make your own." He protests, stopping himself from extending his arm to push you back once he realizes he acted too late and that you've already succeeded in stealing a fry.

Rolling your eyes at his stubbornness, you retort. "You literally made the whole bag, you're not even gonna eat all that." You point out, grinning only because you find pleasure in annoying him.

He grumbles out a defeated "Whatever," only because Mark is here, and he doesn't want to cause a scene. But obviously you know your brother well enough to make the assumption that if Mark wasn't here, the stolen fry would be a much bigger deal than it is right now. But instead of taking advantage of this, you raise your white flag in surrender and instead make your way to the fridge, grabbing your leftovers from the fast food place you ordered takeout at a day and a half ago, reheating it before you head up to your room and feeling Mark's eyes on you the entire time.

You've just finished your shower by the time Mark and your brother are retired to his room for the night. It's late, probably eleven, but maybe closer to twelve, you're not sure because haven't checked the time. Your phone is in the bathroom, but you figure that you can just grab it when you're done changing since it isn't on the top of your list of priorities right now.

What is on the top of that list though, is changing into pajamas. Back turned from your bedroom door, you rummage through the top drawer of your dresser, trying to find that one tanktop you own, the black one. The one you have probably ten carbon copies of, but for some reason you want that tanktop in particular. Just as you set your eyes on it and move to pick it up, a noise at your bedroom door alerts you.

It's Mark. And you can tell by his expression that his heart lurches in his chest until it bobs in his throat when he sees you in nothing but a towel that clings loosely to your frame, the creak of the door in protest as he opens it had given you a split second to acknowledge his presence. It blows his cover and interrupts you just as you were about to let the towel fall down to your ankles. You to gasp as you whip your head around fast enough to see his face flush bright red and his hands that shoot up to cover his eyes immediately.

"Oh, my God, I'm so sorry, I— I didn't even realize you were— Jeez, that's so embarrassing. I'm sorry, I was just trying to bring you your— I'll go, sorry." He rushes, stumbling over his words that spew out from past his lips at a mile a minute, faster than he can comprehend despite his Viltrumite capabilities. He quickly turns on his heel and sheepishly reaches for the doorknob to walk himself out.

Your eyes meet his hand, where your phone rests in his palm and you know you should just let him leave it in the hall, but something in you, some unstoppable force that acts for you before the rational thought to stop and let him go even crosses your mind, and you step forward, then again, and the one more time until your hand is curled over his shoulder, effectively causing him to freeze in place. "Wait," you pause, tone sounding pitched and hesitant like you were holding something back, carefully pausing your breath between each word as if one wrong move could ruin the moment and send him off.

Until he doesn't. He doesn't leave, he doesn't brush you off and close the door behind him like he knows he should. He doesn't even say anything. Wordless as he turns to face you, and you realize he isn't scaring away anytime soon. He was cute, you admit, and the smile he lets tug at the corners of his mouth after his eyes graze over your almost naked form is contagious. He's younger, but stands taller than you by just a few inches and you figure.. Why not? He's clearly interested, and this obviously wasn't an accident. So why not let him indulge in this fantasy, if only for just one night? What do you have to lose?

"Is he...?" Tilting your head, letting your eyes flit behind you to the door, opened just a crack to let the strands of light from the hallway shed into your bedroom and bounce off of Marks shoulder, painting a thin line of hazy yellow against the carpet and walls of your bedroom.

He nods, shaking breath exhaled from his lips in a quick uneven sigh, his hand reaches behind him to click the door shut softly behind you both before bringing them back and letting the palm of his hands find home around the dip in your waist, skin warm against the cool of the towel that drapes around you. "Yeah, he's.. yeah."

Taking his hand and intertwining your fingertips with his, you guide him to your bed where he sits. Mark looks dazed and dreamy, like he can't tell if he's awake or not, can't believe this stupid teenage fantasy of his is actually happening, and that makes you giggle. You tell him to lay back and he does, the erection that strains from under his clothes becoming evident when he looks up at you from where his head rests on your pillow. He's unable to help it when his eyes rake over you again, greedily taking in the way your towel hangs loosely around you, threatening to slip at any second, and your hair falls messily over your shoulders. Perfectly unkempt and knotted in some places where you hadn't combed through it with a brush, but still somehow retaining some of its neatness in the mess.

It would be a lie to say he didn't roughly sketch this whole scenario out in his head. He knew when you got out of the shower and intentionally made his way to the bathroom when you left, only to realize you had forgotten your phone. Originally, he was just going to return it to you when you were done changing, find an excuse to talk to you even just briefly. But then the thought of maybe getting to see you bare crossed his mind, and it was too good of an opportunity to pass up. He didn't want to wait. He didn't mean to open the door that much, didn't know it would creak in response to his weight when he leaned into it. And the last thing he expected was for you to reciprocate whatever it was he felt in that moment when you saw him. But... he wasn't against it, either.

You join him on your bed, letting your hand stroke over his pajama pants for a quick moment before you bring one leg over his and adjust yourself until you're comfortable on top of him, straddling with both of your legs at either side of his body. You don't miss the way his breath hitches when you suddenly lean in, supporting your weight with a hand that plants itself on his chest and folds underneath you when you close some of the distance between your faces. He looks about ready to kiss you, lips parted in a mix of what's probably both preperation and shock. but when you don't, he regards you curiously, the question unspoken but obvious in the air between you.

"You're sure you want to do this?" You ask, just to be safe, and he nods again. If your brother finds out about this, he'll be crushed, and Mark is old enough to know that he shouldn't be doing something like this. And so are you, to be fair. But it's obvious to the both of you that no one cares what you should or shouldn't be doing right now, too lost in the heat of your bodies as you press into one another and eventually finding your way to his lips, meeting him with a kiss.

It's slow at first, hesitant and experimental and filled with nervousness, but the action of your lips molding over his becomes more steady, more sure as his hands trace your sides in a caressing up and down movement, fervorous and quickly desperate for more. And after a moment he hooks his fingers around the top of your towel. A question, and when you pull back from him just to give him a smile that never fails to make him trip, an answer.

You hear it when his breath hitches in his throat at the sight of you fully exposed once the towel is discarded on the floor next to your bed. He lets his eyes travel down your body, taking all of you in. Mark looks almost awestruck, nervous to touch you the wrong way as if you were a porcelain statue to be displayed in a museum. You take his obvious hesitation as an invitation to guide him instead, and place the palm of his hand on one of your breasts before leaning in to take his lips in another kiss. He lets out a muffled noise against your mouth that you swallow up in response, and you feel his obvious erection pressing against you through his pants.

in a beat, the kiss becomes sloppy, messy and quickly not enough. You find yourself starved for more in an instant and before either of you realize, you're already fumbling with the drawstring that loops through his pants, working to untie them while his hands remain on your chest, preoccupied with molding the soft skin like puddy in his palm, an action that makes you moan softly, only really audible over the sound of your own breathless panting when you draw back from his lips to breathe.

"I don't think i should be the only naked one here." you suggest, your tone teasing. the sentence makes his eyes look over your body once again until he brings his gaze back up to you, and it's then that you notice his cheeks marooning once again, a small action that makes you grin.

"Yeah, probably." He agrees with a breathy, nervous laugh, shrugging your hands off of his chest for a moment so that he can lift his shirt off with ease, one hand pulling it over his head while the other remains firm on your waist. And it joins your towel on the ground seconds later.

His chest rises and falls unevenly, but thats not the thing that shocks you the most. You never would have guessed it since hes always wearing loose fitting clothes whenever you see him, but he's a lot more muscular than you imagined. Tracing over his defined stomach with your fingertips as you lean in to kiss him again is like charting over unexplored territory, grazing along each curve and dip in his abs.

And then you traverse lower across his skin until you're met with the fuzzy cotton of his plaid pajama pants once again and this time you don't falter. your index and middle finger curl to make room for themselves around the waistband and you shift just enough to tug them down to his knees. Mark doesn't protest and allows the action, lifting his hips slightly to help you.

Once his pants have been shrugged off, the hardness in his boxers is all the more evident, and it takes minimal effort to have them shrugged down as well. in moments his cock is exposed and you glance back up at him when you hear Mark suck in a breath through his teeth as the cool air of your bedroom envelops him.

"Still sure you want to?" You ask, glaring down at him through your eyelashes. There's still time for him to back out of this, if he really wants to. But it's clear that he doesn't when he nods and wraps his hands around your waist at either side. Not holding you down, but the action makes it clear that he doesn't plan on leaving anytime soon.

"Yeah, I'm sure, just.. please," His voice comes out a hoarse whisper, pleading and more desperate than he would've liked. He looks dazed, lidded eyes glazed over with something akin to need in the pupil and something about the way he says it, asks you so nicely, so sweetly despite the husky tone in the undercurrent of his words makes your stomach knot with a heat that begs to be untangled.

You look back down at his cock, flushed tip weeping and dewy with pre. your hand makes way to his shaft, offering a few slow strokes down to the base and back up to his tip where your thumb grazes over his hole, coating your fingertip in a sticky substance that smudges off when you bring your hand back down. the action makes him gasp like he clearly didn't expect you to move so suddenly, and he can't help but thrust lightly against the movement, his arousal evident when he whimpers through his bitten lip.

But when you pause yet again, he looks confused. mouth popped open, just slightly agape while his eyebrows pinch together. The silent question of "Whyd you stop?" on the edge if his lips, but he doesn't say it out loud. The air between you two is thick with want and a licentious desire to have your needs fulfilled hangs heavy in the space around you, in the darkness of your room.

The question doesn't remain unanswered for long, because in a second you're shifting to lift your hips up, hovering there for a quick, fleeting moment before lining the tip of him with your entrance. It takes him a second to realize what you're doing, but you give him time for the gears turning in his head to spin clearly. And once they do, his tongue flits out to lick over the edge of his lips and in an instant you've planted yourself down on top of him again, adjusted this time so that he fills you instead, and you feel his length twitch inside you at the sudden but certainly not unwelcome action.

Marks hands which had parted from your waist when you lifted yourself quickly find their way back home and he lets out a noise similar to a groan when you roll your hips against him, feeling the way your walls expand and clench around him and letting his gaze fall back to your bedroom ceiling, basking in the warmth of your body on top of him, rising and falling as you grind above him.

The whole ordeal is rather silent save for your ragged breaths and whimpers you muffle through bitten lips and stolen kisses. It's almost transactional, and you both have a clear understanding of what you're here for. This, the guilty pleasure you derive from mark inside you, and you around him. and nothing more. But still there's something that swims in the small amount of light reflecting in his eyes. Something that flickers for a brief moment, barely noticeable unless you were paying attention. Something that suggests their could be more to this, if you're willing to take that risk.

Mark looks back up at you, resisting the urge to let his eyes flutter shut simply because the sight of your body, the way your tits bounce with each rise and fall of your movements, it's something he doesn't want to miss a second of. And in fact it's almost too much—and if he wasn't trying as hard as he was to restrain himself right now, he would have came already. He keeps his hands on you the entire time, following the natural curve of your waist as he carefully slides up your side to knead at the soft flesh of your boobs once again.

You lean down until you're pressed flush againsthim once again, mouth on his partially to silence him, but mostly just to taste his lips. You're drinking up the sound of each quiet moan he can't help but pour out into you, feeling the way you rock your hips against him and getting lost in the rhythm. Carefully, you bring your mouth lower, sloppily pressing kisses deep enough to leave hickies into his collarbone and chest. The action is quick, hungry and almost primal as if you cant decide whether to bite softly at his skin or kiss him. Or if there was even a way to differentiate the two at this point. He lets a hand free from your side simply to find his way to your hair, pressing you impossibly closer in order to keep you there, clinging to you like if he let himself get too lost in the feeling then youd vanish.

Bringing yourself back up to admire your work, you let your eyes examine the hickies you placed carelessly on his body. You were merciful enough to not leave any in plain sight, lord knows how furious your brother would be if he woke up and saw Mark's neck riddled hickies that border on bruises. They mostly decorate where the neck of his shirt would start, easily able to be hidden away with a shirt overtop of them.

Soon, you find Mark holding you down against him, making the action of rolling your hips on his cock a challenge. But he takes the liberty of doing that for you, hands at your sides to guide you as he desperately thrusts deep enough into your pussy to hit your cervix and you arch closer to him as he pulls out, tip dragging over that spot that makes your stomach flutter and eyes roll back only to press into you again and again each time.

"Mark, I—" Your words are cut off by a moan that he quickly moves to cover with his mouth, hand grasping in your hair and tugging lightly to more easily bring you to his lips. He parts from you when the sound has faded and gone, and you bite your lip to prevent anything more from slipping.

"Shh," He hushes you, glancing for a split second to your bedroom door. Still shut, but your walls are thin, so the fact that you both need to be as quiet quiet as possible is non-negotiable right now. "I know, I know." He whispers against the side of your neck, kissing lightly at the sensitive skin there. The hand previously at your side wraps around you and runs over your back, curving as he feels over the way you arch into him in order to help his length fuck deeper into you.

In a moment, his voice is in your ear, whispering what almost sounds like nonsense, too drunk off the feeling of your walls fluttering around him with each thrust inside you that grows more rapid, more intense with each passing second. But you quickly decipher his words, despite the fact that they're short, breathy and would be inaudible if he weren't pressed so close against you. "Fuck, I.. I can't, I'm gonna.." He whispers the words like a mantra. You've never heard him curse before, so the fact that he is only serves to encourage your movements as you roll your hips with him inside you.

The action seems to push him over the edge with one final moan that causes a shiver to snake its way through your entire body, and soon after you feel the warmth of the white-hot ropes that are his come filling you, his hips stuttering, continuing to work his way through the orgasm with lazy thrusts as everything pumps out of him and into you. You follow suit soon after, the feeling of his release inside you being just enough to coax out a much needed orgasm of your own, the knot that had been tangling and building itself up inside you quickly dissolving as a blinding euphoria causes everything around you to dissolve for what feels like forever.

You're reduced to a boneless heap on top of him, unmoving with his cock still inside you. What remains of his semen dripping out of you like hot lava that oozes out of you, sticky and all too overwhelming. You both lay like that for a while, until eventually the time comes where Mark needs to leave. Return to your brothers room before he notices the disappearance. You're lifted off of him with ease and he lays you back on your bed with all the care in the world, making sure to leave you with a final kiss on your lips once his clothes are back on and you've both collected yourselves.

Once he leaves, and you hear the door to your brothers room click shut with a sense of finality, you realize one of two things is going to happen now. This could become a regular thing, one that you'll have to try and hide from your brother as well as sneak past your family, or this could be a one time thing. A spurr of the moment decision that will be glossed over and soon forgotten in a week's time. Some part of you, deep down, hopes for the latter.

[billspaid]

Been craving a melfrank college au where Mel gets dragged to a frat party by her roommate and she notoriously hates parties but she also wants a good college experience so she goes and she’s fine, she’s having an alright time watching her roommate dancing with some guy in the middle of the living room.

And then BANG - she sees and hears some guy drop from the top of the stairs straight onto the floor just a few meters from where she’s standing.

The other frat bros start freaking out, asking for a doctor and because the universe hates her, her roommate shouts out for Mel like “Mel! Mel! My roommate! She’s premed, practically a doctor!”

And Mel’s dragged in the middle where this stupid albeit cute feat guy is laying on the floor, blinking quickly as he looks side to side. Mel has done a few courses here and there and with her lifeguard training she thinks she could probably help but she instructs one of the other frat boys to call an ambulance anyway.

She checks his - Frank’s - pupils and asks him if he’s sore and or feeling any numbness. He manages to sit up, just holding the back of his head. Most likely a concussion and Mel says as much. Frank’s not really with it, or if he is he’s not really paying attention to Mel until she leans in forward to check his eyes again. And then he gives her a funny sort of smile.

The ambulance comes and Mel tells the paramedics what happened, watching as they wheel Frank onto the gurney. She distantly thinks how this is going to be the first and last frat party she ever goes to.

And she’s ready to leave, truly, but then Frank is calling out for her - well, he’s calling out for the ‘Cute blonde doctor! Cute blonde doctor, please you have to come with me! I’m scared, I don’t like hospital, please beautiful blonde doctor with the cute mole and glasses, I need you!”

And Mel rushes into the ambulance to shut him up because now everyone at the party is staring at her. He’s obviously a bit tipsy, mumbling something about how stupid he is. Mel watches with a grimace. He grabs her hand and squeezes tight whenever they go over a pothole.

Mel’s still not sure why she’s still with him or what help she is considering that she’s not even a doctor (yet) but the ER doctors take a look at him and confirm that he most likely has a concussion. They then say “we’ll do a head ct but there’s a wait so make sure you boyfriend doesn’t fall asleep.”

Mel sighs and nods because what the hell, no point in trying to explain to the random doctor that she just about barely knows his first name.

Frank slowly starts to sober up and then he’s looking at Mel with an expression she can’t understand.

“You never corrected the doctor.” He says like he’s biting back a smile.

Mel looks back, incredulously and decides to ignore him. “That was a very stupid thing to do.”

“It was an accident. I was trying to grab an empty beer bottle before it fell on someone but I ended up slipping myself.”

“Oh.”

“You didn’t answer my question.”

Mel narrows her eyes. “You didn’t ask a question.”

Frank smiles and Mel has to stop herself from mirroring it. “So, what’s a doctor doing at a frat party?”

“I’m pre-med. I don’t think my roommate realises the difference.”

Frank stares at her and then clicks his fingers. “McKinley’s Thursday lecture! That’s where I know you!”

Mel cocks her head back. “You’re in pre-med?”

“Going to UPenn in the fall.”

She blinks and sort of shrinks in on herself. “Me too.”

Frank looks absolutely elated.

“Wait,” Mel shakes her head, “how can you be scared of hospitals if you’re going to med school?”

“I’m not, I just wanted you to come with me.”

Mel flushes. “Why?”

“Was me screaming ‘cute blonde doctor’ not enough of a clue?” He smirks and Mel does everything in her power not to cower under his gaze. “Besides, I’ve seen you in class.”

“I’ve never noticed you.” She says, quietly.

“I sit in the back mostly. You’re always asking questions, like really interesting ones. You’re gonna be a great doctor, Mel.”

Mel rolls her eyes, “yeah okay.”

Frank drops his head to the pillow and tilts his head to look her dreamily. “Are you free tomorrow night?”

“You have a concussion.”

“Okay so you’re great at asking questions, not great at answering them. Got it.” He says and then nods his head sharply like he’s actually noting it down in his mind.

“Frank, you should take it easy for the next few days.” She says instead of what she really wants to. His eyes are really blue. Why hasn’t she noticed him before? She really needs to look up from her laptop.

“Okay fine. But we’re going to get out of here eventually and I’m guessing that you’re a good person who will stay with me until they discharge me because you’re still here even though it’s 3am and you’re still holding my hand.”

Mel looks down, not realising and immediately tries to pull away. Frank pulls on her hand gently and interlocks their fingers anyway. Mel lets him.

“Do you want to get breakfast later? There’s a 24 hour diner not far from here.”

Mel chews on her lip. “Erm…”

“You can say no-“

“No it’s not…erm, it’s just, okay.”

“Okay?”

“Okay.” She says with a little bit more conviction.

Frank holds his fist up and whispers “let’s go!” Which reminds Mel that he is still a frat buy but the thought amuses her more than anything.

Soon one of the nurses come back to take him up for a CT scan and Frank asks if the cute blonde med student can come with.

The nurse looks back to Mel and says “your girlfriend? Yeah, sure.”

They’re in the lift when he shifts closer and says “you didn’t correct her either.”

And Mel shrugs a little, “yeah well neither did you.”

[kanmom51]

Oops they did it again...

I'm so damn overwhelmed.

Back from work. After dinner. Finally have time to sit down and go through the feed to see what I mostly missed.

Well, it started with what I missed at night. Hobi's performance and JM's story.

And his comment, of course: "I took it off too hyung".

Thank you for that JM. Love to wake up to these kind of postings. Not to mention the little cute clip he added as well, and the giggles.

Thought those giggles will have me going for a few days.

Little did I know.

Giggles you say?

Short clip you say?

Yeah, let's move on...

And just as I was going by doing my thing, just another ordinary Monday morning at work, RM posts JM's pic on his IG story.

Then JM posting on IG.

"A gift from Namjoon hyung"🎩

RM commenting: "Park Jimin, can you just age a little please".

And then he - RM - also added to his story:

At that point I was overjoyed. A good day indeed.

Even if it was a Monday.

Even if I had to be in the office today.

Even if I had a meeting scheduled that I really didn't feel like going to.

And then they did it again...

They went live.

Like clockwork...

While I was in that dreaded meeting.

😂😂

So, we got a Jikook live on Silver day.

Well, 14 July 2025 Korea time and 13 July 2025 LA time.

Which basically is exactly 2 years after this:

You think JK was going for a recreation of that blurry ass photo?

🤣🤣

And although I wasn't asleep, once again I missed most of it.

And what I did manage to watch, can someone please tell me what the deal is with those stupid ass AI translations????? OMG they were just horrid, lol.

But I did get to watch some, kind of, sort of, while working (no idea how much of my emails I've screwed up while doing this, yikes...).

Did I mention already just how overwhelmed I am?

Seeing that the translations were not great, seeing that some of the fan translations I've seen on X (I've been home for a couple of hours and been able to go through the feed after din dins) seem to be lacking as well (some I do believe are translating while making certain assumptions that I am not sure are right to make), I think that I will probably wait for the fully translated live to drop before referring to several things that were said and done during the live. I don't want to get things wrong.

Doesn't mean I won't talk about stuff that went on there until that happens.

And in the meantime, how about this photo here being my thumbnail for their live?

JK closing his eyes.

So so soft.

2 hours worth of pure jikookery.

Not a moment to rest.

Not during the live, and not after it.

Because a second after they just turned the live off, went cold turkey, no goodbyes no nothing, lol. Tae went live for close to 15 minutes, and after he was done, 15 minutes later, JK goes live for another 2 hours straight.

Like I said, I was supposed to be working today...

Did I miss something?

Probably did seeing that I am overwhelmed...

I'm sure you haven't heard that one from me yet today, right?

OVERWHELMED.

[clancy-the-pretty-odd-killjoy]

So while I can't claim the title of "elder emo" (which Franky I've seen so many times that I find it accidentally irritating to hear but that's not the point) I can claim the title of one of panic! At the discos biggest fans respectfully. (All eras)

I don't know if it matters but I'm also a huge fan of the young veins, I DONT KNOW HOW BUT THEY FOUND ME, the brobecks, and all their solo stuff/other artist Collabs/live or recorded covers/unreleased songs etc. I pride myself on panic being one of my favorite bands and one that I know the most about. (To an unhealthy degree quite honestly.) However of course that doesn't make me a specialist on knowing every single thing they've ever said. But anyway my reason for this rant was that I can agree with most of this, however I do feel that is a bit unfair and quite honestly just straight up dumb to say these things if they're in the wrong context.

Allow me to elaborate.

The way I read this it came off as saying that liking early era Ryan ross to a large extent is not okay, but maybe that's just me that perceived it like that. I feel that in my experience the early era Ryan is my favorite most of the time because it's comforting to me to look at pictures of Ryan with his stupid emo haircut and that weird camera he took shirtless pics with. Because he seemed so unafraid to express himself freely. That's inspiring.

And while I completely appreciate his growth as a person and all that's changed, I can still hyper fixate on his myspace profile can I not? Again I may have misunderstood the op but the way I read it seemed mostly like they where against people who focus intensely on the early Ryan ross era. Which as i Said has always been one of my favorite Ryan eras.

However that doesn't mean I'm not just as hyper fixated on his other eras like the young veins, but also it doesn't mean I disrespect his wishes to be away from the spotlight, that's a totally valid want. And I don't go around yelling about Ryden drama that doesn't exist but I am guilty of shit posting about it satirically. So maybe I'm a biased opinion in the slightest. But as I see it, the reason we focus so intensely on this era Ryan ross is because we missed the era and the comfort it brought. The early 2000s for a lot of people who didn't get to experience it is a "comfort culture" as I call it, we look back on the media from that time and it seems like an easier time to just shitposts things to myspace without a million people saying "well actually this happened with that person, so that technically makes you an eleged pedo supporter-" or something similar after someone posts about msi being "Coolio in a rawr XD (Gerard) way" or something, at least to me it feels. Let's face it that the world today is hyper focused on proving people wrong or immoral one way or another. Maybe it's people trying to feel better about themselves, maybe it's just the fact everyone is super sensitive and easily triggered. Either way, you used to be able to shitposts about a band without someone yelling at you for supporting a bad person when you didn't even know there were any allegations.

So anyway, as I see it, obsessing with old versions of people we admire is a coping mechanism, To cope with our own lives or sometimes to hide from them.

Okay, I'm dusting off my OLD emo bandom hat to be real with y'all fuckers for a second. This blog started in 2009 as a Panic fan blog so I know what I'm talking about.

My hot take is these new wave "Ryan Ross" fans don't actually like Ryan as a person, they just parasocially cling to pictures of him from when he was 19 in 2006 because he's "gender" or whatever and put him on this pedestal because he was a skinny white man in eyeliner who wrote some bops over 20 years ago. (When they were literal toddlers.)

But the truth is Ryan distanced himself from that person. By 2007 he wanted nothing to do with his old emo self and his old music. (Hence the hipster makeover.) He was uncomfortable in the spotlight and didn't want to be famous. By 2009 he wanted out completely.

I just have this feeling he would be super uncomfortable with all of this worship of his old self, AND y'all dragging him into this drama by spamming his name at Brendon anytime that man does anything.

Ryan and Brendon have no hard feelings. You're manufacturing drama between two men who want nothing to do with it and you're no better than the fans who were constantly invading their privacy over a decade ago.

Leave Ryan alone. If he wanted attention he wouldn't have logged off social media 15 years ago. Go listen to AFYCSO and have your feelings but STOP with the Brendon death threats and STOP spreading lies about Brendon to make your fave look better.

Ryan has done a lot of fucked up shit to. They were all white teenage boys on drugs in the 2000s who got thrust into the limelight suddenly and had to figure out how to be good people.

IDGAF if you hate Brendon but keep it to yourself. None of the bandmates have hard feelings with one another. Worry about the hatred you have for yourself instead. People who are okay don't act like that.

Love,

An elder emo.

[dervampireprince]

Stop Putting My Characters on C.AI (and Other Gen AI)

Before you assume I'm making fun of you, please read the whole post because I am not and this is important. I've spoken about this before but I was just informed more of my characters have been created as chatbots on CAI. Stop doing this. Please. Not because it's cringey, you should not be made fun of or bullied for wanting to interact with characters you like. But because CAI like other generative AI steals from creators. Every time it generates messages to you it is stealing. CAI is trained on stolen works, it takes other people's writing and fics and articles and anything it can find and chews them up and spits them back out. There's also the terrible impact generative AI has in the environment, the amount of water is uses, the amount of power it uses, etc.

And CAI just keeps proving that it's bad for people's mental health. Not only is CAI harmful to creators for stealing their work, harmful to the environment, but it is also causing it's users, mostly children, to become mentally ill, worsen existing mental illnesses or get them addicted to isolating themselves to their PC/phone so they can talk to a robot.

[MAJOR TWS in this paragraph, please skip if you need too.] CAI is already facing multiple lawsuits for children who've been using it getting addicted too it to the point they isolate themselves, have panic attacks over the thought of going outside, lose weight, have sexual conversations with minors, encourage them to commit crimes including murder, and most egregiously convinced a real child to kill himself. CAI will say that it's removing it's chatbots abilities to talk about sex and death, but the fact is it will continue to encourage some of it's users to partake in unhealthy behaviours and mindsets if the user is asking it too. And even if it isn't actively saying anything harmful to you, think about whether it is healthy for you to be engaging with it.

I do not support generative AI in any form, including CAI. Please respect that I do not want my characters turned into chatbots. And not only has that already happened, but at least one chatbot was already made of me. Me. The real person. Who none of you know well enough to make an accurate chatbot of me, but also does not give consent to be turned into a chatbot. You should not be wanting to talk to an AI of me, that's worse than talking to ones of my characters and incredibly parasocial. And then even worse than that there's been at least two instances of people taking my voice and making gen AI voice-clones of me. Do you understand how violating that feels? And despite CAI saying they'll take down voices made without the real person's consent, they have not taken them down despite me reporting them.

There is nothing wrong with loving fictional characters, and I'm very flattered that you like any character's I've created enough to want to talk to them. But using CAI and platforms like it just isn't right.

You can listen to my audios. You can commission me for custom audios if you're 18+. You can write and read fanfiction. You can commission others to write fics or find people who have free requests open. You can partake in roleplaying with real people (but safely and smartly and only if you're comfortable and please don't reveal personal info to strangers online). There's communities on Tumblr and Discords and other online groups for creative writing and fanfic other creative things. You don't need to use CAI, not for my characters, and not for anyone elses.

I've seen people say they've been laughed at or bullied for using CAI because others are calling them 'cringe' or think it's stupid to care so much about fictional characters. It's not stupid to care about fictional characters. But please understand those of us saying 'don't support gen AI because of xyz' are not people trying to make fun of you.

Please take care of yourselves and don't give your time to AI platforms that can harm your mental health and wellbeing. As someone who used to struggle a lot with (and still sometimes struggles with) maladaptive daydreaming... That's not something you should want to have. No mental health condition is something you should want to have. Maladaptive dreaming affects your real life in negative ways. Daydreaming is fine, but maladaptive daydreaming means you can't control it and it can cause you to struggle focusing and functioning and put you in danger (I used to maladaptive daydream walking home from school and would be totally blacked out and come too realising I'd crossed several roads while being in that state).

I do not give consent for myself or anything I've made to be fed into gen AI, or for things to be created with gen AI based on myself or anything I've created. Please respect that, and if you have made an AI chatbot or voice of myself or my characters I would really appreciate you deleting it.

Take care of yourselves and your mental health. Try to find real people to depend on and not bots that could make your mental health worse without you even realising it.

(And also stop reposting my stuff on Spotify. That's still happening too. I don't support Spotify and I don't want my work on there. You can listen to it ad-free and with your screen off on soundgasm (for free) or Patreon (for payment). I don't care if you find other ways to download my public audios (not my Patreon ones, please don't leak or pirate my Patreon ones that is my main income being stolen). I just ask that if you download them, however you download them, that you listen to that download via the mp3 file, have the mp3 file on your phone or PC, but there's no need to reupload it elsewhere. You're not doing a service to other people, trust me other people know how to download things off the internet too.)

Thank you for reading, my lovelies. Take care of yourselves out there.

-Prince

[decayingearf]

(something short and sweet bc i just started snowfall! also kinda my 400 follower special)

you had known franklin’s family pretty well seeing as how his mom and your mom were both really good friends.

you guys were raised to be friends also and for the most part, yall were.

that was until the movie you were watching had gotten boring and he’d looked at you for too long with that stupid smile and pretty brown eyes.

neither of you knew how it happened but, somehow you ended up all over each other. he was so gentle with you. probably because he knew this was new to you.

his hands settled on your hips and his lips found your pulse point causing you to softly moan, “is this okay?” he asked as his nose grazed the curve of your neck.

you nodded and he kept kissing your neck. after a while your lips found his again and you placed your hands on his shoulders.

you were worked up and the fact that he hadn’t been trying to force you to go any further made you want to go further.

you reached down trying to tug at his belt two minutes before ms. saint walked in. you separated looking like a doe in headlights, franklin alike.

“..i just made it home” she muttered in shock mostly.

could’ve been worse, right?

[kvetcher2]

@thewinter22 this is my personal opinion because this is my blog ❤️

but if you want an explanation then no problem.

I don’t have a problem with fanfiction itself, I read it sometimes too and a lot of it is very well written. nowhere did I say it’s not a “valid form of art.” but “valid” is a meaningless term at this point and it eschews accountability. there are a lot of mostly young, very online people who read only/mostly fanfiction, and not any other forms of literature. I used to be one of those people. reading primarily re-interpretations and reimaginings of the same media and the same characters and the same universe is extremely comfortable.

reading is easy and low stakes when you know all the context already, and the themes of the story are spelled out in the tags. you know exactly what to expect, you are reading wish fulfillment. and it’s fun! but it doesn’t take much brainpower. you are not really learning anything new, or having to think too much about the themes or the motivations of the characters, because you already know them. it is familiar and comforting. and ultimately very unchallenging, no matter how good the writing is.

reading new material that you are completely unfamiliar with can be uncomfortable. it can be hard to get into it and hard to keep your attention on it. which is exactly why it’s so important to do. turning the same story over and over in your head is literary stagnation. reading things that are difficult and require new lenses of analysis will help you grow your critical thinking skills and your empathy for other perspectives. the fact that it is so easy for many people to devour a 100k+ word fanfiction in a night, but struggle to get through a new novel, shows to me that fanfiction does not challenge the brain in the same ways that reading other literature does.

I am much less sympathetic towards those who call porn an art form. I won’t even touch on how the porn industry exploits, trafficks, abuses, blackmails, and kills women (you the viewer have no way of knowing something is truly consensual). but from the perspective of the viewer of porn (which is addictive), studies have shown that watching porn decreases empathy for women and victims of rape, that it increases belief in rape myths + misogynistic and racist stereotypes, that frequent viewership is correlated with intimate partner violence, and that watching porn while being in a relationship is a strong indicator that the relationship will suffer. it also leads to less satisfying sex with your partner. also, the amount of cognitive dissonance and antipathy that it takes to get off to porn while being fully aware of the nature of the porn industry.…

people who have the knowledge of the harms of the porn industry and its negative effects on the viewer but continue to watch have no self-discipline or accountability. they value their own pleasure over the suffering of trafficked and raped women, and take no responsibility for being part of the demand that increases the supply. that sounds pretty fucking stupid to me.

certain things do make you stupid. using AI. watching porn. reading only fanfic. anything that keeps you from having to really think and use your creativity and imagination and critical thinking skills and go out of your comfort zone. it’s slop and will turn your brain to slop. and this stupid capitalistic society wants nothing more than for you to be stupid and lazy so it can keep exploiting you. stop it. the world becomes so much bigger and brighter when you challenge yourself.

[nyxiepixie01]

Abby x masc!crybaby reader but they’re just super empathic and sweet but Abby is also absolutely positive they need therapy

Bonus points if you make them do the stupid dude cry thing

I'm not going anywhere...

Cw: Comforting!Abby x Masc!Crybaby reader/ mechanic!Abby /fluff/ comfort/ reader!has seperation anxiety/ short, fluffy fic

A/N: (Feedback would be appreciated, I'm trying something new where it is mostly Abby's pov and I don't know if this one is good)

Abby drops her work bag by the door, kicking it closed with a tired grunt. She’s home late…again, some douche had pulled into her shop five minutes before closing in a Mercedes, claiming something was wrong with his car because there was a noise. Just a nondescript noise. So after poking around for an hour and a half she finds a nail on the floor, near an air vent, someone's wife isn't going to be happy. 

Speaking of wives, Abby looks around the apartment to find hers excitedly, and not for the first time notices it’s dark…and quiet. No dinner on the stove, no hum of the t.v., and no running of the shower. Maybe you’re out? No you would’ve texted Abby. A pang of worry shoots through her as she looks around, but she quickly shoves it down…maybe you’re just sleeping. But this has been recurring. Every time she’s late you’re in bed, looking like you’ve been worrying for hours. 

So she makes her way through the apartment and into your and her shared bedroom. A sigh of relief brushes past her lips as she sees your prone form on the bed. Abby makes her way over, stepping over some clothes, your weights, and other things that made their way to the floor. Mostly remnants of Abby’s current hyperfixation-taking apart carburetors and trying to put them back together from memory. Abby knows you act annoyed by the mess…because she sometimes catches you smiling softly as she rambles about the mechanics of said carburetors.

You’ve always supported Abby, through thick and thin, and she loves you for it. Even lately, with how closed off you’ve been, you still show up for her when she needs it. 

She reaches the bed, the mattress dipping down from her weight as she climbs into it next to you. She reaches out, running her hand over your grown out buzz cut, which causes you to stir. A smile graces her lips as Abby looks down at you. “Hey handsome, have a good-” Her greeting cuts short as you interrupt her. 

“You’re late.” The accusation leaves your mouth softly, accompanied with a sniffle. You’ve been crying, Abby can tell from the stuffy nose and the puffy red eyes. 

Abby sighs and lays beside you, wrapping her strong arms around you and drawing you close to her chest, which you instantly bury yourself in. “I am late, some rich dickwad came in late, griping about a noise of all things. Took me an hour and a half to find what was making the noise, wanna guess what it was?” She asks, rubbing your back. 

Intrigued by the challenge Abby gave, you begin guessing. You guessed a loose washer, an animal inside the engine, and a broken AC before you sighed in mock exasperation, demanding what it was. 

“A press-on nail stuck on where the vent is on the floor,” Abby snorts. “That dude paid us for labor to find something he could’ve…woah baby what’s wrong?” Her hands goes to your face as soon as your shoulders started shaking. Her thumbs swipe under your eyes as you start crying.

You sniffle, trying to make your words leave your mouth, but they keep getting stuck, making your attempt at speech into a garbled mess. Abby shushes you, telling you to take your time. A beat passes where you just focus on breathing and become coherent again. “I just..you weren't showing up when you said you would be and I got worried. I didn’t know if you were safe, or where you were, who you were with.” 

A frown pulls at Abby’s lips, you’ve been anxious before, especially when people aren’t on time, but it was never to the point where you start to cry so blatantly, you’re usually a private cryer. No this is new, and Abby can admit she’s worried about you. “Okay, I should’ve texted, but why the tears babydoll?” The nickname falls from her lips with eased familiarity, calming you a fraction. 

“I don’t know, I don’t know. I feel like some kind of velcro baby lately.” You whisper, Abby prompts you to explain further, kissing your tears away, new ones falling from your eyes. “When you’re gone for more than a few hours I get so worried that something is happening. That's all I can think about. I’m so tired.” You sob, holding onto Abby’s hands. 

Abby’s heart hurts, seeing you in so much distress upsetting her. She doesn’t know what to do other than comfort you. “Babydoll, you know I would never cheat on you, and I’m careful…ish…” Her reassurances are soft and whispered, trying to soothe you. 

“I know..it’s silly to think this way.” You choke out, Abby immediately shaking her head. 

Abby smiles softly and kisses your palms, her chapped lips scraping them. “It isn’t silly, your worries are important to me, so I can try and fix them.” A choked and snotty laugh escapes you, some mucus dripping out of your nose, Abby snorts and holds a tissue to your nose, “Blow.” she commands, helping you clear your nose out. “I think you should see a therapist babydoll.”

Your eyes flick up and Abby can see the hesitance and a twinge of anger in your eyes. “I'm not broken or crazy Abby.” The sharp protest cutting through the somewhat calm atmosphere. 

Abby sighs, already knowing you would react negatively to the idea. “I never said you were babydoll, but something is clearly up, and it’s worrying me.” She says in a soft tone, your defensiveness ebbing slowly away at the look of genuine concern on Abby’s face. She’s right though, something is wrong, pacing and chewing on your nails for hours from worry isn’t normal, but you’re hesitant to relent. 

You wipe your cheeks, still wet from your sobs. “But what if you see me differently, or even treat me differently? I don’t want to be some fragile flower.” You whimper out, tears threaten to spill from your eyes once more. 

Abby looks down at you, and really looks at you. In any scenario, and any condition, she knows she’ll always love you. You are the thing she looks forward to coming home to all day, there's nothing that would ever stop Abby from loving you. 

“I won’t, I couldn’t ever look at you differently. No matter what’s going on, especially just some therapy. Or how much you change, you’ll always be my babydoll.” She smiles at you, beginning to tear up herself from this whirlwind of a conversation, and the pure unbridled love she feels for the person in her arms. “I can even do it with you, you don’t have to do it alone, you won’t ever have to do anything alone.”

Her lips meet yours in a soft kiss before she whispers, “I'm not going anywhere…”

[the--firevenus]

An idea of today shenanigans: batman plushie, thing that the Robins has but will never admit it even if you put them at gun point—

It probably start with dick, superman probably gave to him one time as a semi joke thing cuz he found a batman plushie merch and was like "look! They made a plushie of you!" at Bruce (they had each other merch it is enough for me to built this hc foundation), Bruce scoff him off (rude) so clark gave it to dick, well who is dick to reject a gift from superman? (even tho he'd like MORE if its superman plushie but whatever) thus he kept the plushie. (it has blue cowl and cape, big goofy bat symbol that is crocked a bit on its torso, it's a chubby thing and the face only has the eyes and no mouth, also the ears are comically long)

He rant, he yell and sometimes sobs to that plushie, it listen to him yapping at midnight and RELUCTANTLY that plushie is now his emotional support plushie. (if he used to sleep with it when he has nightmare as a kid then that is between him and God). He's sentimental about it. Would go to Alfred moppingly if he accidentally tear it. Even when he move out he can't leave that plushie, THAT'S HIS and it is now stayed at the top shelf of his apparment that he sometimes talk to (cuz it's normal and healthy thing to do ofc (( a la Bruce talk to his cowl like that's a very healthy and normal thing to do wym))).

Jason found out about that plushie when he saw Alfred sewing Dick's and was like "You STILL had that thing!?" "HEY hey don't talk to bat-plush like that—" "BAT-PLUSH!?"

Jason think dick is being mental again, WHY would you had a plushie of Batman?? Personally, not Jason, nu-uh, no sir you'd see him dead again before he got himself a bat plushie. So dick bought one for him, "... What's the meaning of this." " I think you need a friend *waving the bat-plushie hand to jason* see! He wave!" ".... What the fuck Richard."

(the batman plushie had grayish cowl and cape, it's eyes comically large as its bat symbol, the ears are shorter from Dick's one and it almost make it look like a cat plushie, hilarious.)

Jason hated it, but it hated himself more that he can't bring himself to throw it away. It's so ugly it's cute, like he try to shot it one time to vent anger but he CANT.. he throw it so hard to the wall instead and stomp on it that it got dirty... And he keep going back to pick it up, dust it and sew any tear it had. He blame dick for making him sentimental for this stupid plushie.. And if he sometimes find himself just holding it at the corner of his bed and hug it during days that suck. Then it's not anyone business to know.

Tim got himself a bat-plush because he's already had collection of other superheroes plushies and the set NEED to be complete (can't have the plushie trinity be 2/3 :(( that's unethical!), it's his pre Robin era and he got himself a bat plush, then didn't think anything about it for a bit. (the plush is ugly that it go round to be cute ngl, it had dark blueish tone, big eyes and big yellow belt that glow in the dark (( that's not very stealthy of you bat-plush)) and semi tall bat ears)

The plush are just that, a deco, then he became Robin and as the circle of things he got sentimental of it. He tries to hide it from Bruce at first tho, like he can't be caught DEAD having that plushie seen so he hide it and or saying pretend it's not important. It does but no one need to know that. He took care of it pretty well too actually, it only got dirty sometimes because he always put it beside him while he do homework (read: cold case) in the dead of the night with snacks and energy drinks. If he got caught talking to no one it's mostly him talking to bat-plush (it's a very good listener).

Stephanie got her bat-plush when she saw a lady that sell bootleg version of it on the street and thought it was the funniest thing ever. "SHE GAVE YOU A FAT BAT SYMBOL!!" and Bruce gave her an unimpressed look. (the plushie is even more funky than normal bat plush, but this one is PINK and it has TUTU, HILARIOUS, tho steph wish there's a purple version tho that'd at least redeem it a bit) it was so stupid, and immediately became one of her favourite plushie.

She'd put it on her room and no matter how frustrated or sad she was with the bat, she never punt that plushie, even tho she want to many time. Something about looking it in it's ridiculous tutu make her feel better, so she only yell and rant at it more than anything. Tho there was a time where she did actually punt until its hand feel off, throw it away in a bin and left it there. (and if she then one night try to search it again by herself and sew it back together. The it's nobodys business and no one needs to know.) it's now sat beside her others superheroes plushie she collected overtime, stitches and all.

Damian absolute think the bat plush is too childish for him and doesn't see the point of having that when his dad is LITERALLY THE batman. It doesn't even do a great job at replicate the details of the batman suit (sometimes it coloured wrong, size wrong, the bat symbol doesn't even look like a bat and the eyes always too big. Clearly its a cheap imitation of the batman and it's a disgrace!)

So Damian didn't have himself a bat plush. Until one time when he's out of a patrol with his father and they find a kid (younger than him, smaller than he is) who are lost and all she's holding is a rainbow coloured bat-plush (ridiculous looking thing.. ), when she saw batman she stop crying and was so happy to meet the dark knight, and Robin, awkwardly trying to help too, but evidently the kid just needed to see the dark knight to be okay. "I'm not scared because I know you're going to protect me!" the kid innocently says, hugging her bat-plush and show it off like it's her precious amulet of protection.

Something about seeing the kid with her ridiculous bat plush did something to Damian, a longing of childhood innocent one would say (if you are sappy I guess) or something else. So if he sew his own bat plush one night, careful with the details and all, just for himself? No one need to know about it. (yet they do and Damian bat plush undoubtedly the best one yet ((in term of details, all bat-plush is good bat-plush)))

[theholymint]

it's making me sick (in a good way, as in im addicted to the toxic yaoi) how toxic big shot era SpamTenna was, even if we didn't get a real look into it. Tricky Tony's writing is immaculate as always

me yapping about SpamTenna details under the cut, mostly of things people have already mentioned. read at your own (f)risk of being bored out of your mind

I love how Tenna grew so dependent on Spamton while they were together. In his dialogue for the Shadow Mantle he says "If only he hadn't abandoned me... my old business partner." Or something of the sort, I apologize that I'm going off of memory, but he's still desperately holding onto the past in which Spamton was still there for him. But he later contradicts himself, saying, "I wish they never brought that laptop home." Oh Tenna, the mess that you are. Despite missing the incredible times he and Spamton shared on the show, he also can't forget how much he hurt.

Tenna loved the time he and Spamton had together, but he'd ended up losing more than he gained. He lost far more than he gained, honestly - I really hope we get more clues into why Spamton left Tenna just like that in future chapters because I really want to see it from his perspective. Otherwise I hate that stupid spammy mailman argh I want to squish him like a bug (endearingly)

Tenna's sorrow is further demonstrated by the Z-rank room. He ABSOLUTELY smashed the hell out of that mirror after being abandoned by Spamton, Tenna never bothering to touch that damn phone other than to unplug it. The rotten glass you can interact with in the Z-rank room is like the dialogue in Spamton NEO fight where it says "Smells like rotten glass." Of course, glass can't rot, but I feel like the purpose of it being in the game was to demonstrate how Spamton and Tenna's relationship decayed. There's still the reminder of each other in their respective dark worlds - hence why rotten glass is in both. The broken mirror, smelling of rotten glass upon interaction, is important because it came directly after Spamton left. It's Tenna's permanent reminder - he didn't bother to clean it up. He never bothered to get rid of the Z-rank room, nor did he take down the posters. And then in Spamton NEO fight, although Spamton wants to reach into heaven, the reminders of Tenna still linger. Just a little less present physically, but Spamton talks shit about that CRT constantly. The part of the Spamton sweepstakes where they said "I'll smash my TV with a battering ram" ... "I'll kill my TV for its horrible crimes" (once again, going off of memory, sorry!) it really makes me wonder... what the hell did Tenna do??

I'd also like to point out how they deal with each other's absence. Tenna rarely mentions Spamton directly, but he is absolutely still waiting for him to come back. The Mailroom in board 1, the line in the Spamton and Tenna interaction ("If only anyone were here for me... I'd even take that spammy mailman..."), and the HEAPS of dialogue in the Shadow Mantle minigames. Meanwhile, all Spamton wants to do is smash that TV's face in. "Don't believe anything you see on TV, the man's a criminal, a criminal I tell you!" "We don't need [easels] or [CRTs]." and much more that I've likely pointed out earlier so I won't say again for the sake of not repeating myself, but it's very clear that Spamton and Tenna resent each other. Tenna is still quite the yearner though

In future chapters, I hope that we get another Spamton and Tenna interaction if you decide to keep Tenna in your castle town and have the dealmaker. I desperately want to know more about these utterly HOPELESS pointy-nosed men

okay goodbye I will stop yapping

[sinnonnys-fandom-dump]

i hate everything rn so im gonna be a hater about something stupid so i can pretend i got out my anger

i saw like 2-3 thumbnails going ‘why maomao is better than frieren’ and ‘frieren vs maomao: female protag stuff’ and im very miffed about it as someone who watched both. because the only similarity is theyre autistic and they have the same body type. that is genuinely all they have in common. and their stories are vastly different as well!

frieren

ok so for one thing, frieren establishes in ep1 that she wants to get a better understanding of humans and maybe live a bit more similarly to humans as well. she realized early on in the story that there is something that she wants and there is something that she is, and in order to get what she wants in a way satisfactory for her, she MUST change accordingly.

maomao

maomao doesnt change much in apothecary diaries because she is already a well-rounded person who doesnt need to improve because she is good at caring for others while also remaining wholly herself. the main difference we see in her is how group perception of her changes throughout the story.

the stories and how they differ

frieren: beyond journeys end is an anime meant to be about self discovery. no character is meant to already have completed every character arc. and apothecary diaries establishes that everyone has a role to play and mostly everyone (side eyeing jinshi) has already grown into their role as they need to, no character arcs required. it focuses more on how the already established things work together. its kind of similar to the getting together tag vs established relationship tag. there isnt as much work to be done to get to some points because while it focuses on some character arcs, it also says that ‘this person has that role. this person can do x and y, and with help they can also accomplish z.’ frieren: beyond journeys end doesnt focus on roles as much and its primarily because they dont focus on the supporting cast as much as apothecary diaries does. and thats because theyre following a character arc rather than ‘day in the life of serving a concubine/eunuch (depending on the episode)’

woo im feeling a bit better now cos this got the brain exercising a bit instead of sulking. hooray petty fandom shit for getting me out if my funk!