#being around people is so fucking draining

[tuxedoferret]

Arcane finale was good....but

Spoilers for the finale of Arcane season 2, Arc 3 in general.

I'm probably screaming into the void but I wanted to get these thoughts out and see what other people think.

In general, I liked the endings for most of the characters. Their arcs make sense.

Vi, Caitlyn, Ekko, Jayce, Mel, Singed, and Viktor's story conclusions, I think were ended beautifully! (And Jinx too but I'll circle back to her in a second). Their endings made sense and were executed very well! I'm content with how their stories end!

And MOST of the deaths make sense... most of them.

Of course most of the minor characters are dead, no surprise since a majority of them we don't even know the NAMES of unless you scour the credits in the VA section.

Ambessa's death was well done, with Mel finally getting her mothers approval through breaking free of her control and finally being able to decide her own life and Caitlyn becoming a true leader.

The only thing that really bothers me, is the deaths of Heimerdinger and Warwick/Vander. Out of all of the champions in the game they're the only non-humanoid ones that made it into the show. They're also the only (game first) champions to actually die and they barely get to do anything. (I am one of the believers that Jinx is alive because there's no fucking way they would kill off one of their chief money makers, also based on evidence in the show).

With Heimerdinger in season 1 we see him serve as an oppositional force against Jayce, and then a mentor working with him. He gets kicked off of the council as a result of his conservative viewpoint. And he reflects on this, he leaves to go help the Zaunites however he can but gets shunned away. Then the goes and helps Ekko with repairing his board and getting home. In season 2 this continues with Heimerdinger helping Ekko get into Jayce's lab and them having the discussion about wild runes before getting sucked up into the anomaly. His last episode is him in the alternate universe with helping Ekko build the Z-Drive to return to his own universe. He puts it in the amplifier, is about to go with Ekko, then runs out and puts a few more things together and just... dies. Thats it for him. MAYBE he'll come back since he's a Yordle but this is new canon and the man had flesh and blood squished out of him. But in general his death feels cheap and unnecessary. What was the point of his death? How did it impact the narrative and what did the story gain from it as a result? Not fucking much really. He's never mentioned again afterwards. I feel like his death had no impact on the story whatsoever. I honestly think it would've been better if he had survived and returned with Ekko to fight in the battle against Noxus and Viktor. I would've liked to see him, either returning to the council or not, atoning for his mistakes by trying to make things better in Zaun with his inventions.

With Vander/Warwick there was so much hype around the theory that Vander would be returning as Warwick. And we were all super excited when that came true! We love it when the narrative rewards us for paying attention! But we get like... 3 episodes with him before he becomes a Viktor automaton. He was also still very much alive even after Singed drained his blood, so Viktor was wrong about how that would kill him. Warwick's role in the end felt very lackluster, and it felt redundant to just, kill him off AGAIN. Maybe I'm just a little mad because I have read up on Warwick and I feel like he had more potential for the narrative than just... make Vi watch her dad die all over again. The fight scene with Warwick could've been replaced with any big evil bruiser really (coughBlitzcrankcough). In general Warwick felt more like a Vi and Jinx accessory than his own potential character. Which kind of sucks. And maybe I'm a bit salty that we didn't get a full wolf Warwick. I think the whole his mind was reset/erased bit could've still been done if the explosion damaged his head and it healed back wrong/if singed replaced his head with one of the wolves' heads to make him fully Warwick in the end.

Isha's death kind of feels... not impactful at all to the story afterwards aside from Jinx's spiral. I would've liked it if her death did more than just that (Like I said, permanently damaging Warwick/Vander would've been nice)

This is about the league of LEGENDS and you'd think that Warwick and Heimerdinger would have bigger roles than just being killed off to further another characters story after barely impacting the narrative.

Also I feel like Sevika being on the council is like... stupid. I think she wasn't handled well at all after episode 4. She just completely disappears after running away with Isha. Why do we never see her hanging with Jinx and Isha again? I would have LOVED to see how Sevika reacted to Vander not being as dead as previously thought, the man she betrayed and ultimately ended up mirroring in the end with her refusing to give up Jinx to Piltover. I think it would've been fun if Sevika was the one to tell Vi when she woke up that Jinx gave herself up, despite all of Sevika's protests, an inversion of what happened with Vi and Vander. Putting Sevika on the council in the end is just kind of weird for her character. I understand it's like, the idea of Zaun finally getting representation on the council, Sevika getting a say in what happens in the undercity. But I feel like that could've just as easily been accomplished with finally letting Zaun have its own independence with Sevika being the "Baron" of Zaun, being the new leader. Because we've seen she's a genuinely good leader! She has a good head on her shoulders. It would've been fun to see how she'd struggle with being the new leader of Zaun, struggling against the Chem Barons if future series ever decided to look into Zaun again.

In general I'm fine with the ending of Arcane. But I feel like the endings could've been written a different way for those 3 characters. I honestly feel like it would've been better if the show ended off where the game picks up, and I don't even play League, I just like the lore from what little I've been reading.

[carmyberzattosjournal]

S2 Entry 1: Want More?

Photo credit: Pinterest

Summary: Carmy needs to make his girlfriend (who he calls Darling) feel good after she has a grueling day at work. (1043 Words) SMUT.

Warnings: Swearing, comfort, fem reader/lass who is a trauma surgeon, she/her pronouns, p in v sex, finger sucking, dword use, Soft Dom!Carmy.

Notes: Thank you for reading and sharing! This is a work in CB Journals Season 2 and will be tagged with #cb journals s2.

Sideblog for commentary and social stuff: @m-z-shoroi

Prompt: Snowstorm

I remember a conversation happening at Noma that went a little something like this: what is your favorite time and place to have sex?

I, of course, didn’t participate, being a socially terrified barely-adult who had no experiences (yet) and also too focused on my prep to hold a conversation—though the being focused part held more weight in my decision not to speak up because, and I hope I’ve established this, my connection to food is catastrophic. Talking divides attention. Humans are not built to multi-task; at best, we can flip back and forth between a few tasks in rapid succession, but if you wanted to get good at something—and I mean really good at something; knock people on their ass, smoke those motherfuckers for daring to challenge you—you need to cut out all the noise, bury all the bullshit, and put yourself to work.

So, yeah, I didn’t participate. I don’t even remember what the rest of the conversation was, I’ll be honest, because I tuned it out the moment I heard the question. But it’s been haunting me as of late. Not because I wanted to know what all the other chefs were talking about, but because I might have accidentally found the answer for myself.

Late November, about 10 pm or something. Wind howling against the windows, ice pelting the glass, no car horns, no trains, no people yapping or yelling outside, no noisy neighbors. This soft, gentle quiet that permeated the bone-crushing cold that was my apartment bedroom minus one radiator.

Because landlords are fucking demons.

The only other sounds are of us, of her moans, these saccharine, high-pitched, breathy noises that tumble from her mouth in a dulcet melody, the creaking of the bed, of the ragged breaths I’m dragging past my throat. Her hands are still cold as they rest limp against my abdomen but are warmer than they were when she first tangled them in my hair. She’s helpless, powerless, vulnerable; has forfeited her entire being to me. I’m cold, I’m tired, I’m mentally drained; do what you want to me, Carmy.

Do what I want? What I want is for you to feel like you’re in heaven, my love. I want to hear you whine in my ear about how good it feels, how full you are, how you don’t want me to stop. I want you to arch your back just. Like. That. And flutter around me with another mind-numbing orgasm, babble my name like it’s a prayer.

“Is that good, pretty girl?” I murmured in her ear. “Want more?”

I already knew the answer.

Didn’t mean hearing it wasn’t spine-tingling.

“Please, Carmy.” She weakly hiked her leg higher up my side.

“Please, what, princess?”

Did I understand what she meant? Yes. Even without her saying it, her leg tightening around me, the shadow of her larynx as she swallowed and fought for words, it told me everything I needed to know. But I’d be lying if I said I didn’t enjoy making a mess of her. I love listening to her stumble over and give up on her words because she feels too good to corral them into a coherent sentence. Makes me feel powerful. In control. Fuck, I needed to feel like I was in control because everything else in my life was spiraling out of control.

“M-more… Harder…”

I hooked my hand under her knee and brought it up, fucking her even deeper. She arched her spine, threw her head back, swore.

“Like that?”

“Yes! Yes, fuck, yes, just like that… Don’t stop…”

 She dragged her fingernails up my torso, dug them into my chest. She was so tight, so hot, so slick; I was fucking delirious. The only thing more important to me than my high was hers. I needed to hear her fall apart again. Come on, princess, show me how pretty you are when you come apart.

“Gimme another one, huh, pretty girl?”

Her coherence went two orgasms ago. “Fuck. Fuckfuckfuck… yes, sir… fuck, that’s so good… Please… please…” She didn’t even know what she was begging for at that point. It was just babbling. Her beautiful, complex, multi-faceted mind, forever going 7 directions at once, synthesizing information from everything and everyone, solving life’s most complex problems—off. Quiet. Empty Like the city outside, buried under 12 inches of snow. And the night was still young.

“Daddy, please…”

Daddy?

“Please, what, princess?”

She called me daddy?

“W-wanna cum…”

Fuck, I could get used to being called that.

I brought my hand down between us and rubbed her clit. She arched her back and whined my name. That’s it, pretty girl. That’s really fucking good, isn’t it? That’s exactly what my baby girl needed after such a rough day at work, huh? Needed Daddy’s dick filling you up and making you forget everything you were so stressed about.

She clamped a hand around my wrist, the one that was holding her leg, and dragged it up so she could close her lips around my thumb. She sucked, pressing her tongue against the pad, and despite my dulled sensations, it was fucking disastrous how fucking good that felt. It was a stunning sight—her eyes closed, cheeks reddened, sweaty hair sticking to her forehead, her plush lips around my thumb because she just needed a sensation in her mouth.

I could burn it into my memory if it wasn’t for how fucking close to coming apart I was. I didn’t have words. The heat in the pit of my stomach roared into an inferno, sent a wave of blistering warmth up my abdomen and my chest. Fuck, she was going to ruin me by being like this, and I wanted every bit of it. Please, keep being so needy. Please, call me Daddy again, beg me for more, whine my name, lose your words, suck on my thumb because all other sensibilities have escaped. You know I am for you; I want you to feel so good that you can’t think anymore. I need you to feel so good that you can barely breathe.

She pried her eyes open to meet mine.

“Go ahead, pretty girl,” I whispered.

Late evening. Middle of a snowstorm. That’s my answer.

Tags: @jess248 @catharticconsolation @persymons @morgthemagpie @glitch0o0 @nox-is-thename @forgechildofheph @leminjelly @fridavacado @lumoslemon @cyarskj1899 @carmenberzattosgf

[eviesqueezie]

curly stumbles across the road, cigarette caught between his lips with his lighter gripped tight in his fingers.

he’s less than sober, tipsy at most and his shoelaces are undone. it’s autumn at this point, so there’s a low drizzle slowly soaking his jacket and making him hide his spare hand in his pocket.

he’s a bit lost, if he’s being honest. sure, he’s lived around tulsa most of his life but when it’s dark, and rainy, it becomes a bit harder to navigate.

“oi!” curly turns his head sharply, raising an eyebrow. the voice grows closer, the person coming into view. or people, if you’re counting the five or so boys behind him.

curly nods, cigarette dropping from his lips onto the wet ground. he stamps it out and fully spins to face them, pushing his fingers into his belt loops.

“what’re ya doin’ over here?” one of the boys asks, voice hoarse.

curly gulps slightly before answering, discreetly checking his pockets for his switchblade.

“just walkin’. ain’t want no trouble.” his voice thick with the familiar oklahoman drawl. the group move closer, silver jewellery and blades reflecting in the moonlight and glinting off the drops of rain.

“well you’re walkin’ pretty far from yer territory, ain’t ya?”

curly takes a step back, hand resting on the handle of his switch through his jean pocket.

“man, i don’t want trouble. i’m goin’ anyway.”

the group move towards him, like a swarm of bees or a pack of wolves.

pony would probably know how to describe them, how to depict their fangs for teeth probably chipped just like curly’s. how to envelop their childlike features outshined by their all grown words and nature.

“back the fuck up-“ curly shakes, with anger or fear- it’s hard to tell.

there’s a boy, on the far right, with a black eye and blood dripping from his nose. it reminds him of johnny cade, which is stupid because in just a moment they would beat him black and blue.

the group remind him a bit too much of himself, if he thinks about it hard enough through his hazed brain.

one of the boys laughs humourlessly before lunging forward and tackling curly to the ground like a rabid animal, holding his arms to the ground so he can’t reach for his pocket. his lighter tumbled to the hard concrete with a smash.

curly kicks his legs up, ramming them into the boy’s gut, making him jump up and backwards. curly shuffles away, pulling out his switch and flicking the blade open.

the action is mirrored by the group, blades open and roaring- some painted with dried blood in a way which could have been poetic, if curly was poetic enough himself to notice it.

somebody grabs him, hauling him up by his collar and swiftly landing a punch to his jaw that leaves him reeling.

after a few more punches, a bit more blood, the fight within him drains. it wouldn’t be long before it was over, anyway. he could crawl home to tim, or make his way to the curtis house to be patched up.

but when one of the boys leans forward, plunging a thick and jagged blade into his stomach, he can feel his sense of hope diminishing quickly.

maybe- maybe he wouldn’t get home. angie would cry, probably, but he wouldn’t be around to comfort her and- and tim. oh god tim, he’s been through enough. he wouldn’t take it, going out and dying in a blaze of glory just like dallas winston. ponyboy would fall, just like before, curly had seen it- the way sodapop and darry had to pull him up and outta bed just to eat. that would be because of him this time, all curly’s fault because he was an idiot who should’ve known not to go wandering out when he was drunk, all alone.

his blood seeps out of him, spreading out on the concrete just like in some kinda shitty movie ponyboy wouldve made him watch. beads of sweat gather on his forehead, dripping down his cheeks.

the boys laugh, empty of remorse, and vanish back into the night.

all, all except one.

the boy from before, with the black eye and the bruised nose. curly could imagine he looked similar, if not worse. he reaches in, snatching his wallet straight outta his pocket and flicking through- taking the few dollars he had and pocketing it.

the boy clasped his hands together in some sort of prayer before pulling the switchblade out of his stomach and flicking it back into itself, shoving it into his pocket.

curly screams, earnest and violent.

the boy falters, chewing his lip and flinching when the cut on it begins to bleed harsh red.

“i’m-“ he pauses, taking a step back and clasping his hands together again. “i’m sorry, grease.”

then, he spins back around and without a single look back, he takes off. busted up converse splashing through puddles as the wind picks up.

curly came to the realisation that, he was gonna die here.

he was going to die harsh and violent, just like everyone estimated. he was going to bleed out in this dirty alleyway, rings still on his fingers and a kiss on his cheek from ponyboy still leaving him breathless.

curly- curly was terrified. not just for him, but for the aftermath. for the funeral, and the wake. for the phone calls tim would eventually make. for the people who would cry- for the people who wouldn’t.

he didn’t even say goodbye, god dammit.

he was going to die alone, just like his pa.

he let out a sob, mixed with a scream in the hopes somebody- anybody would come to save him. it was unlikely, growing more and more so as the moon filled the night sky.

he could finally see the stars, glowing and lighting up the world in a kind of brightness curly himself could never achieve. he distantly hoped the stars would take pity on him, in some kind of dying wish or prayer made through his confused mind as the pain began to take over.

yes, yes maybe the stars would take him. carrying his body up with them for a life of peace, burning hot and painful but in the way he was used to. in the way that gave him a kind of sick comfort, mocking him like his mother on the couch- drunk and high out of her mind.

as his vision faded to black, and his breathing began to slow- he prayed to anyone that could hear. praying that they would take him away and out of tulsa oklahoma and far far away from everyone and everything he knew.

he prayed for a brand new start, among the stars and the trees- just like the myths and stories his grandmother would tell him and warn him about as he fell asleep when he was younger. maybe it was her voice he could hear now, wishing him luck. maybe it was his father- or tim, angie or ponyboy. somebody he had loved in his last moments, and would for the rest of them.

the next morning, when his body is discovered and tim gets the haunting call that his baby brother was dead- curly will be miles away. gone within the wind and the sea, flying through the sky and crawling beneath the earth.

finally free.

[jankwritten]

Might just go MIA for a week. Cant stand being human right now.

[solitaireships]

I feel like I should say since there's been a recent uptick in a lot of communities I'm in/see stuff from a lot of white people pretending to be Asian, but you are not welcome here if you are in anyway stealing from Asian cultures for clout or the aesthetics of it

This includes if you're white and you give your self inserts Asian names, I truly do not care if your f/o is from an anime, you should not be using an Asian name under any circumstances. I hate that whenever I see someone using an Asian name online, I feel like I have to start searching their account to see if they're actually Asian or just a white person who likes the aesthetic of it bcs far too many white people will use Asian names here just bcs it sounds cool, with no regard for the actual cultural meaning behind it. Meanwhile actual Asian people will be mocked for their names, or treated like their names are too hard to learn to pronounce, or discriminated against based on their names

Asian cultures are not a fun little costume for people to dress up with. They aren't just a nice aesthetic, they aren't just a thing you can borrow from bcs you think it sounds cool

[butnotbubblegum]

using the tags to vent my current emotional state into the void bc ig story feels like a bad plan for this, read at your own risk.

[hexslvt]

anyways my mom tried to justify screaming at me today with the fact that i'm "not grateful enough for everything she does" and it brought me right back to being with my ex so 👍🏻

[my-thirteenth-reason]

kicking my feet and giggling (<- just got apologised to)

[monksexualizer]

i need to be alone for an enormous amount of time or i think i will go insane.

[born-to-lose]

I love being the always single person in my family, mad respect to my sister for constantly dating guys for the last 8 years, I would have shot myself

[orcelito]

The good news: I will have Chinese food tomorrow

The bad news: I have to see my mom as part of it :[

[heartual]

i hope imane khelif continues to prosper after everything these stupid fucking people have put her through

[daylighteclipsed]

anyone else feel like the whole world is this 👌 close to completely snapping

[summoner-of-mist]

man im having a wanting to die kinda night again :(((((((((

im trying so fucking hard to make friends but i guess i just cant and just gotta die instead

[alren-ki]

.

[merry-the-cookie]

alright email sent now that thats done lemme speak candidly the 5sos merch process became a fuckcing trigger after i was done with it so forgive me for like. not engaging at all with it by the end of the process cus i legit needed to recover

i was not taking good care of myself, i was absolutely going through it at work, my mental health was in the ground, it was hell. i learn from every experience and i dont want to let myself get traumatized all over again from doing merch because i do love it in the end, i just take a while to find my own boundaries and limits and i struggle with not letting it take over my entire life. i think i’ve learned from this (again) so hopefully it wont be as draining to send the remaining stock (if ordered at all lol)

im really sorry to all the friends i didnt communicate with, its not an excuse and im working on bettering myself with all this shit.

i hope i can slowly but surely enjoy 5sos again in a way that doesn’t become as suffocating as it did when i was fully in the merch process :’) its honestly just my own boundaries that i keep crossing, so idk hopefully i find some patience and self respect or whatever whilst still doing my best to deliver a good product and a good experience 👍🏼✨