#but i've been really enjoying it so far!!

[mononijikayu]

no. 1 party anthem — geto suguru.

“....What about my laugh?” He asks you, his cheeks flustered like cherry wine. “Is…is the sound good?” You matched his flustered cheeks. “It’s…It’s like a song.” “A song?” “My favorite song.” You admitted to him, slowly smiling as you shyly looked up to his flustered gaze. “Your voice is my favorite lullaby. But your laugh? It’s my favorite song.”

GENRE: alternate universe - canon convergence;

WARNING/S: post hidden inventory, pre-jjk 0, heavy angst, romance, falling in love, conflicted feelings, hurt/comfort, break up, slice of life, timeskip, depression, hurt, mourning, loneliness, trauma, pain, humor, guilt, pining, conflicted relationship, emotional distress, grief, profanity, depiction of break up, depiction of grief, depiction of complicated relationship, depiction of loneliness, mention of grief, mention of loneliness, mention of events post hidden inventory, mention of events in jjk 0, cursed user! suguru, jujutsu sorcerer! reader;

WORD COUNT: 7.7k words

NOTE: i've been getting into arctic monkeys again (as you can tell) and i have to say, no. 1 party anthem has done things to me these past few weeks. AM is such a good album. i really don't think that one can get any rawer in story telling about the sorrows of parting the way AM had depicted it. so i hope you listen to it one of these days, if you haven't already. anyway, i hope you all enjoy this. i love you all so much!!! see you on the next one <3

masterlist

if you want to, tip! <3

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IT WAS A SURPRISE, TO SEE HIM TONIGHT. It had been nearly five years since you last saw Geto Suguru, but the weight of his absence still lingered in the quiet moments of your life. And it had taken your breath away, you knew that much. Because you had already resigned yourself to never seeing him again since that night.

But you can’t help but wonder about all the suffering and grief that had carved its way through those five years, shaping the person who stands here now.

The you of the present feels like a stranger sometimes, a mosaic pieced together from shattered moments, each shard reflecting a memory too painful to hold but too significant to discard.

There were nights when you lay awake, your mind replaying fragments of what once were half-formed smiles, laughter that now seemed like it belonged to someone else, and the weight of a bond that had been torn apart, leaving jagged, unclean edges that never truly healed.

You’d press your fingers against the raw places, testing their tenderness, reminding yourself that the pain was real. That he was real. But he wasn’t here anymore. He had chosen his life. He had made his bed with his reality. And so must you. 

It all felt like another lifetime, one so distant it seemed almost like a dream. The person you were then, the one who loved him, trusted him, believed in him. That person feels impossibly far away now. You’d convinced yourself you’d buried that version of you alongside the memory of him. And with time, you believed it.

You never expected to see him again.

And yet, there he was.

The sight of him felt like a blow, like the ground had shifted beneath you and left you unsteady. His presence unraveled the delicate stitches you’d used to bind your wounds, pulling them loose thread by thread. He looked both the same and different, an unsettling contradiction that left you breathless.

Time has not been kind to either of you. You knew that much. Geto Suguru was a handsome man, he always was and he always will be. But you could see things that people wouldn’t. You see everything, you know everything about him. Maybe more than himself.

If time had not been kind to him, you could only judge from afar about things that had happened to him. You could see it in the lines etched into his face, the heaviness in his gaze. But what struck you most was the familiar ache you thought you’d buried. it resurfaced all at once, sharp and unforgiving.

You told yourself you’d moved on. You told yourself he was a ghost, a memory that had no power over you anymore. But standing here now, your heart betrays you.

And for a moment, all the pain, all the nights spent grieving, all the years spent rebuilding—none of it seems to matter. For a moment, you forget the hurt and only remember how it felt to love him.

It happened on a random Friday night at a bar you frequented with your other sorcerer friends. It was a hub for sorcerers to gather after missions. With how Satoru and Shoko were also getting too busy to hang out with you, and Nanami not frequenting such a place, you had no other choice but to find yourself some new people to mingle around too when they weren’t free. Life doesn’t stop when you lose someone.

So, you ended up finding this bar. And over the years, you have become a regular. Even more so, you found new people to meddle life with. You all of course still can’t meet everyday. But it was more regular than most of your other relationships. That gets you through the day most of the time.

The bar in itself wasn’t special. It was a cozy, dimly lit spot with just enough charm to make it feel like a second home. But it was yours, a place where you could laugh, unwind, and forget the world outside. It was ironic that he of all people would show up here. Perhaps the universe had a cruel sense of humor, or maybe fate had finally decided to intervene.

Geto Suguru hadn’t been looking for you that night. Or maybe he had, in some subconscious, desperate way. His sources, mutual acquaintances, whispers from insiders had led him here, for business.

It’s why he had a special grade glamour on. But even he didn’t fully understand why he had stayed for a while. He didn’t need to. Someone else could have done this for him. 

But when he stepped into the inner corners of the bar, his purple eyes scanned the room almost out of habit. Nothing much intrigued him in this place. It was too common, too crowded. It wasn’t his fashion. It wasn’t his scene. 

But then, he looked further away and stopped.

In that moment, he knew that he saw you.

The moment froze. You didn’t notice him at first, too caught up in the warmth of your friends’ laughter. But he noticed everything. The way your smile lit up the room, the easy way you leaned into your conversation, the carefree aura you carried. 

It was a stark contrast to the image he had of you locked in his mind: the you who had walked away from him, or maybe the you he had walked away from. He couldn’t decide anymore. He never made up his mind about that. Perhaps doing so would have hurt more.

When your eyes finally met, it hit you like a tidal wave. Recognition. Shock. Something unnameable. No one else would see the cursed energy glamour the way you would. You would notice.

You would see him. All of him. Only you could do that in a way people will never know how to. No one else could tear apart Geto Suguru the way you have, the way you will for all his life.

For a heartbeat, it felt like no time had passed, like you were back in that shared moment before everything fell apart. But then reality set in, and you turned away. Too quickly, too deliberately. You excused yourself from the table, and when you returned, he was gone.

Geto Suguru had fled back to the club he’d come from, his chest tight with a cocktail of emotions he couldn’t untangle. He should’ve known better. You were no longer a part of his life. He’d lost the right to be. And yet, he couldn’t let it go. 

After downing two more drinks, the gnawing need to see you again overpowered him. He left the club and returned to the bar, heart pounding, searching. Asking the bartender if they’d seen you, scanning every corner of the room for a glimpse of your face. But you were gone.

Suguru wasn’t sure what hurt more: the hope that had flared in his chest when he saw you or the emptiness left in its place when you disappeared.

He hadn’t planned on this—on seeing you, on unraveling in public like this. Life after you had been a blur of responsibility and regret. You’d moved to Fukuoka to teach to get as far away from Tokyo as possible and he focused on his new family, his new vision. 

Geto Suguru poured himself into work, convincing himself that distance was the answer. Just as much as you had thought the same thing. Out of sight, out of mind. But you were never truly gone from his thoughts, and the years only deepened the hollow ache. And perhaps, neither was he. 

Now, both of you are back in Tokyo, perhaps even just for tonight. He was sitting alone at the bar, he stared into his glass, his hands trembling slightly as he gripped the edges. He was alone, so far away from you and your warmth, and your smiles and you who was everything.

The laughter of strangers around him was a cruel echo of the joy you’d shared with your friends just hours ago. He drank to dull the pain, but it only sharpened the edges of his misery. Each sip dragged him further into the pit he’d been clawing his way out of for years.

Suguru hated himself for the way he felt, for the way his chest still tightened at the thought of you, for the way he still longed for something he’d already destroyed. He had made his choices, he stood by them firmly. 

And yet as the night wore on, his mind spiraled further into the what-ifs and could-have-beens, until he was too far gone to remember why he started drinking in the first place, he could only think how miserable he truly was.

By the time Suguru stumbled out of the bar, the night had deepened into an eerie quiet. The streets were nearly empty, save for the faint hum of passing cars and the distant laughter of people heading home.

The cold air stung his skin, but it didn’t sober him. Nothing could cut through the fog in his mind, the haze of alcohol and regret that weighed him down.

He wandered aimlessly, his thoughts circling back to you like a cruel refrain. How could you look so happy? How had you moved on so effortlessly when he was still stuck in the wreckage of what you once shared? Part of him wanted to be angry, but the anger never came. All that remained was the bitter taste of self-loathing.

When Suguru finally stopped walking, he found himself at a familiar park; a place you’d both loved. The benches were worn, the trees towering silhouettes against the starless sky. He sank onto a bench and buried his face in his hands, the chill of the night pressing against his flushed skin.

Memories rushed in unbidden, as vivid as the night you first kissed under those very trees. He could almost hear your laughter, feel the warmth of your hand in his.

It was unbearable, the way the past clung to him like a second skin. He didn’t know if it was the alcohol or the sheer weight of his emotions, but his chest heaved, and he let out a strangled sob, his breath fogging in the cold air.

It wasn’t supposed to be like this. He had convinced himself that leaving had been the right thing to do, that the distance would save you both from the inevitable pain of being together.

But in his effort to protect you, he had only condemned himself. And now, seeing you happy, surrounded by friends, made him realize just how deeply he had failed.

Meanwhile, you ended up back at your friend’s apartment, all the laughter and enjoyment had come fading as the events of the night replayed in your mind. Seeing Geto Suguru again had been a shock you weren’t prepared for. None else noticed but you. If anything, it was as if he had wanted you to know that it was him. 

You couldn’t help but feel sick at the thought. He’d come back. But for what? Why have he come back? You’d been doing fine for the past ten years. And now in an instant, you find yourself unable to do anything about these tears that just pours out. 

You’d spent years trying to bury the memories, to build a life that didn’t revolve around the void Suguru had left behind. And for the most part, you’d succeeded. But tonight had cracked something so deep within you, like a breaking dam. It was that wound you thought had healed. A wound so deep that maybe you never noticed it never healed.

Your friends noticed your distraction and tried to coax you back into the lighthearted energy of the evening, but it was no use. When it comes to Suguru, you knew you would never be able to pull yourself back from the brink. You left early, along with your friend and retreated to the quiet of your own space in her house. 

Sitting in the dim glow of your living room, you stared at your phone, your thumb hovering over his name in your contacts. It had been years since you’d last spoken, and the silence between you was deafening. But tonight, it felt heavier, like it was begging to be broken.

Suguru, in his drunken haze, finally pulled out his phone. His fingers trembled as he stared at the empty message thread between you from all those years ago. He never changed phones. He just couldn’t. 

Not when this held so much of you, more than you could ever know. And he’d hate to part with it. He hates parting with you. The cursor blinked at him mockingly, daring him to say something, anything. But what could he say? What words could possibly bridge the chasm he had created?

You both sat in separate silences, even far away from each other. Even then, you both carry the weight of your shared history hanging in the air, stifling you both whole. Somewhere between the spaces of what was and what could never be, a thread still connected the two of you in the frayed, fragile, but unbroken echoes of life.

And for the first time in years, you both wondered what it would have been like to say hello.

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IT WAS A LONG TIME AGO, FLASHING IN YOUR MIND SO CLEARLY. Your relationship with Geto Suguru began like a slow sunrise—gentle, almost imperceptible at first. Everyone could see something beautiful about it. You could too.

But it wasn’t something either of you could pinpoint, the exact moment it started, but before long, the light of it had crept in, filling the cracks and chasing away the cold.

At first, you were just kids, thrown together in the chaotic, unforgiving world of jujutsu sorcery. Life and death weren’t just abstract concepts; they were constant, hovering over every breath you took, lurking in the shadows of every mission. But with him, there was something different. Something softer.

It started with stolen glances in the classroom, shared smirks over jokes that only you two seemed to find funny. Then came the late-night conversations that stretched far too long, but neither of you cared. You’d sit on the temple steps, the world silent except for the occasional rustle of leaves in the breeze.

“You ever think about what we’d be doing if we weren’t... this?” he asked one night, his voice low, almost hesitant. He looked at you then, his dark eyes searching yours like he might find some hidden answer there.

“Sometimes, when I have some time. I think about it. With you, me, Satoru and Shoko.” you admitted. “But then I think... would we have ever met? If we were just ordinary people?”

He smiled, that small, almost private smile he saved just for you. “I don’t think the universe would’ve let us miss each other.”

“Even just the two of us?” You wondered at him.

“Especially the two of us.” He grinned even wider, patting your head. 

Those words lingered with you long after that night, as did the quiet weight of his presence. Suguru wasn’t just your teammate or your classmate; he became your confidant, your safe place. The one person who could make you feel human, even when the world tried to strip that away.

There was lightness in your connection, a reprieve from the heaviness that came with your lives. The warmth of his laugh, the way his shoulders relaxed when you were around. It was as if the two of you carried pieces of each other’s burdens without ever having to say it out loud. 

Everytime you were with him, you felt like everything was whole.

The world made sense when you were with him.

And you were proven right each and every single time.

He was the only one for you in this world.

It had been a long day, and exhaustion lingered in the edges of your mind, but he sat across from you, legs crossed lazily, and the smallest smile teased at his lips. You remember telling a joke.

You don’t remember it in its entirety but you knew it was something about the absurdity of the higher-ups’ newest “ingenious” strategy and for a moment, his guarded composure shattered.

He laughed.

It wasn’t just a chuckle or a polite hum. No, it was a real laugh. It was as though life had existed the first time he laughed. It was so bright, unrestrained, and utterly disarming.

The sound was pure, and for a moment, you could almost forget the weight he carried, the things he wouldn’t talk about late at night when the shadows seemed to pull closer.

“God, that laugh.” you murmured, half to yourself, but he caught it.

“What about it?” His voice held a smile, the corners of his eyes crinkling with curiosity.

“It’s… nice. Unexpected.” you said, and you could feel your cheeks warming under his steady gaze.

“....What about my laugh?” He asks you, his cheeks flustered like cherry wine. “Is…is the sound good?”

You matched his flustered cheeks. “It’s…It’s like a song.”

“A song?”

“My favorite song.” You admitted to him, slowly smiling as you shyly looked up to his flustered gaze. “Your voice is my favorite lullaby. But your laugh? It’s my favorite song.”

That was the beginning. That laugh became your favorite sound, a lifeline in the chaos. It became the thing you sought, the thing you tried to coax out of him in fleeting moments between missions or during those rare stretches of quiet.

You had stolen moments, the two of you. Too many to count, too many to want to forget. It was when life wasn’t pressing its cruelty upon you. Late nights stretched into early mornings, both of you lying in the grass, the stars above almost as bright as his gaze.

“You see that one?” you whispered once, pointing to a cluster of stars. “It reminds me of you.”

“Oh? How’s that?” he asked, smirking slightly, his head tilted in mock challenge.

“It burns so brightly you can’t help but stare,” you said without thinking, and the smirk faded into something softer, something almost shy.

“Careful, I might start believing you, you know?” he murmured, looking away, but not before you caught the blush dusting his cheeks.

“But aren’t I correct with what I said?”

“Ah, you’re just as cheeky as Satoru.”

You grinned at him. “But I’m better than him, aren’t I? Because I’m your favorite!”

Suguru laughed, his cheeks warm like a scarlet sunrise. “Yeah, yeah. You are my favorite.”

And then there was the kiss. It happened on an evening like any other. It was only a normal day. A day like any other. Nothing special at all.

You had been talking, your words flowing so easily it felt as if you were spinning threads of a tapestry you had both been weaving for years. Somehow, you just belonged together.

When he leaned in, his hand brushing the side of your face, it wasn’t a surprise. It felt inevitable, like the tides meeting the shore. Like destiny itself had been guiding you here. You felt like you were home as you found yourself overtaken by him.

When his lips met yours, it was as if the world stopped turning. It wasn’t fireworks or an explosion. It was just warmth that was familiar. The breeze of evening moonlight. it was a sigh, a soft release of tension you didn’t realize you had been carrying. Everything else fell away. It was just him and you.

And in that moment, you knew.

He was the one for you.

He was the love of your life.

“This feels... right, don’t you think?” he murmured, his forehead resting against yours. His voice was so soft you almost didn’t hear it.

“It does. Perfect.” you whispered back. “Like it was always supposed to happen.”

You didn’t just love him. No, you recognized him. Across time, across lives, across every distance imaginable. You had found him, and you would find him again.

Every time. Every lifetime. And you would love him, fiercely, until it burned you alive. Because he wasn’t just a part of your world—he was your world.

For a while, it was perfect. Together, you built a fragile sanctuary amidst the chaos. Even as the missions grew harder and the burden of protecting the world loomed heavier, you found solace in each other.

Geto Suguru would hold you close on nights when the horrors of your work were too much to bear, whispering reassurances that tomorrow would be better.

But tomorrow wasn’t better.

The world began to crack around him. He had blamed himself for Amanai Riko. For Satoru’s brush with death. For failure of a mission that relied so much on him. And that had buried him under, even before he had come and gone to the grim reaper’s arms. 

Everything you had loved about him slowly faded, like memories of yesterday. You saw it in the way his smiles became rarer, in the way his laughter came less easily. He grew quieter, more distant, and when he came back from missions, he wouldn’t talk about them anymore.

Instead, he’d sit in silence, staring at nothing, as if the weight of what he’d seen was too much to put into words. As if nothing in this world mattered at all. As if nothing was worth living for. 

At first, you tried to pull him out of it. You were the only person that could do something like that, if Satoru couldn’t. You have tried hard. You really did.

You did as much as you could to remind him of the ideals that had driven you both to fight in the first place. Of the future that you could have together, where you could be happy. 

But Suguru wasn’t just tired of everything—he was angry.

And he didn’t want to hear anything more about those ideas.

They had failed him, as much as the adults had already done.

He wasn’t in the mind to talk anymore, he was tired of talking.

“They don’t deserve it.” he said  harshly, that one night, his voice low and simmering. “The people we save—they don’t even know what we sacrifice for them. They go about their lives while we bleed for them. It’s not fair.”

“It’s not about fairness, Suguru.” you said, reaching for his hand. “It’s about doing what’s right. They are weaker than us. They don’t know the world of such suffering. But we do. Suguru—”

But he pulled away, shaking his head at you. “Maybe what’s right is letting them fend for themselves. Maybe what’s right is taking back control.”

“Suguru, you can’t—”

“I have had enough of it. I can’t….I can’t have any more of this bullshit. Please.”

You didn’t recognize the man sitting before you. His words were sharp, edged with bitterness that scared you. You tried to argue, to bring him back to the man you had fallen in love with, but Geto Suguru was slipping through your fingers, and no matter how tightly you held on, you couldn’t stop it. The more you tried, the more he pulled away. 

The breaking point came on a mission, one you didn’t share with him. You weren’t there to see the moment he made his choice—the moment he decided that humanity was no longer worth saving.

You only heard the aftermath: Suguru Geto, once a protector, had killed. He had killed too many people. Even his own parents. He had turned his back on everything he once stood for. And all to be free. All to stop those voices in his head. All to stop being miserable.

When you confronted him that day, you were trembling. A part from anger, part from heartbreak. You looked at him, eyes so brimming with tears as he stood there with those dark purple orbs narrowing at you. 

Almost as though he couldn’t care less about it all. It was as if he didn’t carry the world on his shoulders anymore. In that moment, it was better that their suffering freed him. That’s what it looked like to you. And that broke you. More than you could even say. More than you could even understand. 

“Tell me it’s not true, Suguru.” you said, your voice cracking. “Tell me you didn’t do it.”

But Geto Suguru didn’t lie. He’s never been good at lying. If anything, you didn’t need him to say anything. You already knew the truth. You’ve seen the bodies. You’ve seen the reports. But somehow, hearing him say it. 

Perhaps that’s the only way to make it real. That’s the only way to know the truth. He looked at you with calm, unflinching purple eyes, the same eyes that used to hold so much warmth. How could such warm eyes feel so cold, so lifeless, so devoid of the will to live?

“They deserved it.” he said simply, his hands resting on his pockets. “The world needs to change. And I’m going to change it.”

You stepped back, shaking your head, tears streaming down your face. “This isn’t you, Suguru. This isn’t who you are.I know…I know who you are. Please, just…Just…”

“It’s who I’ve always been.” he said, and the certainty in his voice shattered you.

Tears fell from your eyes, to the point that you couldn’t see anymore. You let out a guttering cry, your hand covering your lips as though you know you can’t let it out anymore. You can’t stand like this in front of him. But you couldn’t move. You couldn’t stop staring at him. Where did your Suguru go? Where was he?

“I don’t know you anymore.” you whispered, your voice barely audible. You sobbed, looking at the ground. “Who are you? Where’s my Suguru? Where is he?”

For a moment, just a moment, his mask slipped. You saw the guilt in his eyes, the pain he was trying so hard to bury. Not because he’s hurt others, no. But because he’s hurt you. That burns him more.

That kills him more. But then it was gone, replaced by the resolute facade he had built to shield himself. He knew he couldn't come back. He’s gone too far for him to walk away from it.

“I hope you know that….I’m sorry.” he said to you, watching you close your eyes. As though wanting to pretend that this was just a bad dream. “But this is the only way.”

You wanted to scream, to grab him and shake him until he saw reason. But you knew it wouldn’t make a difference. You always knew better than that. He was resolute. He always has been. And so, he would not turn back. Not even for you. 

The Geto Suguru you loved was gone. He was killed. He was consumed by the darkness he couldn’t escape. And you will never get him back. The last time you saw him, he was walking away, his silhouette fading into the distance. You stood there, rooted to the spot, the weight of his absence crushing you.

In the days and weeks that followed, you replayed every moment, every conversation, every sign you had missed. You blamed yourself, even though you knew, deep down, that this wasn’t your fault. You couldn’t have saved him.

But that knowledge didn’t make the loss any easier. You were sure that he was the love of your life. Geto Suguru has been your love, your partner, your everything.

And now he was gone, leaving behind nothing but memories and the ghost of what could have been. And now you had to pick up what’s left from the desolation that swallowed everything whole. If not you, who will?

In the weeks that followed, life moved on around you, but you felt like you were frozen in place. The routines of being a jujutsu sorcerer continued. Day in day out, it was missions, training, meetings. But somehow,  it all felt hollow. 

Every face you saved, every curse you exorcised, felt like a mockery of what you had lost. How could you keep protecting a world that had taken Geto Suguru from you? How could you keep meeting with faces that didn’t know how to protect a child? How could you keep finding yourself living like this over and over?

But you still did it anyway.

You knew it was the right thing to do.

Suffering or not, you had to live.

You had to continue on.

Your nights were the hardest. Sleep became a distant memory, replaced by endless hours of replaying the past. You found yourself going back to the places you had shared with him.

The quiet park where you used to sit and watch the stars, the ramen shop where he’d always order extra broth, the training grounds where you’d spar until you were both breathless with laughter.

But those places were empty now, stripped of their meaning. Without him, they were just shadows of something you could never get back. Things that were just gone, forever lost in the abyss of his own making. An abyss you had sealed just as much, by continuing to live the way you have.

The news of Geto Suguru’s defection spread quickly. Whispers followed you wherever you went, people looking at you with pity, like you were some tragic figure in a story they couldn’t stop retelling.

Some were kind, offering empty condolences that only made you feel worse. Others were cruel, blaming you for not seeing the signs, for not stopping him before it was too late.

But the worst were the people who said nothing, who looked at you like you were a ticking time bomb, as if Suguru’s choices had tainted you by association. You could feel their looks, you could always hear the double entendre in their words. But you could hardly care at that point.

You tried to drown it all out, focusing on your missions, on anything that would keep your mind occupied. But no matter how hard you worked, no matter how many curses you destroyed, the weight of Suguru’s absence clung to you like a second skin.

And then, one day, you saw him again.

It was purely by accident, something you couldn’t expect.

It had only been a mere few months after he had left.

It was on a mission in a remote village, where rumors of a powerful curse had been reported. You had gone in prepared for anything—or so you thought. What you weren’t prepared for was the sight of Geto Suguru standing in the center of the chaos, his presence commanding, his expression unreadable.

Your breath caught in your throat. For a moment, it felt like the world had stopped spinning. He looked the same, and yet so different. There was an edge to him now, a coldness that hadn’t been there before. A brutish layer that protected him from the world.

“Suguru.” you said, your voice barely more than a whisper.

He turned to you, and for a split second, something flickered in his purple eyes—recognition, maybe even regret. But it was gone as quickly as it came, replaced by the calm detachment you had come to fear.

“You shouldn’t be here.” he said, his tone almost gentle.

“You don’t get to tell me where I should be. you shot back, your voice trembling. “Not after what you’ve done.” After what you’ve done to me.

He sighed, running a hand through his hair. “I didn’t come here to fight you. Leave, and I’ll let you go.”

“Let me go?” you echoed, anger bubbling up inside you. “You don’t get to ‘let me go’ for shit, Suguru. You left. You broke everything, and now you’re standing here like none of it matters. I should kill you right now where you stand like the kill order says.”

“It does matter. Everything I do, it matters. To me, to the world I’m building.” he said, his voice quiet but firm. “More than you’ll ever understand. That’s why I’m doing this.”

“No, Suguru. You aren’t.” you said, stepping closer to him. “You’re doing this because you gave up. Because you let the worst parts of this world consume you. And now you’re trying to justify it by pretending. And I just….I have had enough of that excuse. Even when we fought, you used that excuse.”

He flinched at your words, the only crack in his otherwise unshakable composure. For a moment, you thought you had reached him. But then his expression hardened, and he took a step back from you.

“This isn’t about us, you know that.” he said. “It’s bigger than that. Bigger than you or me.”

“It was never just about us, you idiot.” you said, your voice breaking. “But we could have fought for something better—together. Instead, you threw it all away. You threw me away.”

He didn’t respond. He knew you were right. You could see it in your eyes. He tried to open his mouth, to say something. But instead, he turned and began to walk away, his figure fading into the distance once more.

You wanted to call out to him, to beg him to stay, to fight for the man you once knew. But you didn’t. Because deep down, you knew that man was gone. You would just be lying to yourself if you tried to pretend that it would work. 

And as you stood there, watching him disappear, you realized something: this was the last time you would let him break you. Geto Suguru had chosen his path, and now it was time for you to choose yours. You had to.

Even if it meant living with the weight of his absence for the rest of your life, you would carry it. Because that was what it meant to keep going. He wasn’t willing to live with you, for you. He wasn’t willing to do that. And so, you had to. You had to do it for you. To survive. 

══════════════════

HE FELT LIKE HE WAS GOING TO THROW UP. Geto Suguru stumbled into another bar, his head swimming with alcohol and frustration. The neon lights buzzed overhead, casting garish colors onto the crowd of strangers. 

It was a different place, but it might as well have been the same. Everywhere he went, it felt the same: loud, crowded, meaningless. He was chasing something he couldn’t name, knowing full well it wouldn’t fix the hollow ache inside him.

He spotted a girl at the bar, standing alone for just a moment, and something in him shifted. It wasn't an attraction—not really. It was desperation. I may suggest there’s somewhere I might know her, he thought, smirking to himself, just to get the ball to roll. 

He approached her with a feigned air of confidence, the kind that only comes from being far beyond tipsy. His words slurred slightly as he said something about a shared connection, a vague memory he knew didn’t exist. She tilted her head, intrigued despite herself.

Suguru leaned in closer, his voice low and coaxing. “Come on, before the moment’s gone.” 

It wasn’t like he was falling in love. That wasn’t what he wanted. He didn’t want her heart or her promises. He just wanted her to do him no good, to help him forget for a while. The girl gave him a look—soft, inviting, a subtle tilt of her lips that sent a rush of blood through his veins. 

It turned him on more than it should have. He didn’t care about her name, her life, or her story. It was the thrill of the chase, the electric jolt of fleeting desire. But before he could take another step, a hand clamped down on his shoulder. 

“She’s with me.”

Suguru turned to see a man standing there, tall and stern, his presence like a wall between them. The girl stepped back toward her boyfriend, her gaze dropping in awkward apology. Suguru laughed bitterly, holding his hands up in mock surrender. 

“Didn’t mean to intrude.” he said, though the sting of rejection burned.

He retreated to the edge of the dance floor, his drink in hand, watching the pulsing crowd around him. The music was deafening, the lights dizzying. The club was a house of fun—or at least that’s what it was supposed to be. People were laughing, dancing, losing themselves in the moment. But for Suguru, it was a prison. A trap.

The room spun, not from the alcohol but from the crushing realization that it wasn’t enough. This place wasn’t enough. These people weren’t enough. She’s not you. No, she isn’t. She never will be. No one else can ever be like you.

No matter how many drinks he had, no matter how many strangers he flirted with, the truth was inescapable. You and he weren’t together anymore. You had been the only thing that made sense in the chaos of his life, and now, without you, everything felt hollow.

The club blurred into a mess of sound and light, but all Suguru could feel was the emptiness gnawing at him. He was trapped in this cycle of meaningless nights, trying to fill the void you left behind. And deep down, he knew it would never work. Because no matter how hard he tried, no one could be you.

Nothing here was worth staying for.

So he comes outside, the cold greeting him.

But he could barely feel it stab through him.

The alcohol in his veins dulled everything except the gnawing ache in his chest. He stumbled down the street, the neon lights of the club fading behind him, replaced by the harsh glow of streetlights. His breath came out in uneven puffs, his mind swimming with thoughts he didn’t want to face.

His phone was a familiar weight in his pocket. He pulled it out, his fingers fumbling over the screen until he found your name. He was too drunk to be a coward now. He wasn’t going to let the cursor mock him this time. Not again.

Somehow, it was muscle memory—he didn’t even have to think about it. You were still in his contacts, still in his life in the smallest, cruelest way. If anything, he memorized your phone number. He knew it too well, he’d never forget it. He stared at your name for a long moment, the cursor blinking on the call button.

The voice in his head screamed at him to stop, to put the phone away and walk home.He didn’t need to do this. Not right now. Not ever. But the alcohol silenced that voice, replacing it with raw, unfiltered need. And seeing you tonight….what more did he need to be an excuse? He had to call you. Even if it was wrong, he had to. 

Before he could stop himself, he hit the button. The phone rang. Once, twice. With every passing second, his heart raced, his breathing shallow and unsteady. He almost hung up, almost let the moment slip away, but then you answered.

“Hello?” Your voice was soft, confused. You had changed phones. But you still used the same number. He knew that. But you probably, over time, had forgotten his phone number. He had expected it. He was after all, worth forgetting. “Who is this?”

It was late, and you hadn’t expected to hear from him—hadn’t heard from him in years. If anything, you never should expect anything from him. But the sound of you made his chest tighten, and for a moment, he couldn’t speak. He leaned against a lamppost, the phone pressed to his ear like it was his last lifeline.

“S’me again, babe.” he slurred finally, his voice thick with alcohol and emotion. “Suguru.”

There was a pause on your end, heavy and loaded. He could almost feel the weight of your hesitation, the way your breath hitched as you processed his call. It had been a long time. Ten long years. And now, just now, he called. 

“What do you want?” you asked, your tone cautious, guarded. It wasn’t the warmth he remembered, but it wasn’t cold either. It was somewhere in between, and that hurt more than anything.

“I don’t know, honestly.” he admitted, his voice breaking. He laughed bitterly, dragging a hand through his hair. “No, that’s a lie. I know. I just… And I just….I can’t stop thinking about you. I can’t stop… missing you.”

“Suguru…” Your voice softened, but there was something else there too—sadness, maybe even pity. 

He hated it. He didn’t want your pity. You had known that even when you were younger. But he knew you couldn't help it. Still, just maybe, even just tonight, you’d drop it. You’d pretend, just as he was. He wanted you to tell him that you missed him too, that you still thought about him late at night, that he wasn’t the only one trapped in this endless spiral.

“I saw you tonight.” he blurted, the words tumbling out before he could stop them. “At that bar. Can’t remember the name, honestly. But you just….You looked so happy. Like you don’t even think about me anymore. Like I’m nothing.”

You sighed on the other end of the line, and it cut through him like a knife. “Suguru, it’s been ten years. What did you expect? I….I didn’t expect my life to be frozen, waiting for an impossibility that will never come.”

“I don’t know. I just…” he said again, his voice rising with frustration. “I thought maybe—maybe you’d feel the same. Like… like this thing between us isn’t over. Like it’s still there.”

“It’s not. And you…you know this.” you said quietly, and the finality in your tone made his knees buckle. He sank onto the curb, his head in his hands.

“It is for you, maybe…. he whispered, his voice cracking. “But not for me. It’s not over for me, and I don’t know how to let it be. Babe, I loved you. I still do. Maybe for the rest of my fucking life. But I…I don’t know what to do.”

The silence on your end was deafening, and he filled it with a broken laugh. You had the right to  your silence, you always will. After what he had done, even just last night? Why shouldn’t you just be quiet? Why shouldn’t you just hang up right now? 

But on the other side of the line, you were bitterly weeping in the quiet. Just taking in his words. Everything about your lives had been a tragedy, a tragedy that you could never forget. Both of you were living those past lives that can never come back. And you shouldn’t. You can’t. Not now, not ever.

“I’m drunk, you know?” he said, as if that excused everything, as if it would make you forget the raw, painful truth he’d just laid bare. “I shouldn’t have called. I just… I needed to hear your voice.”

“You need to go home, Suguru.” you said gently. It wasn’t what he wanted to hear, but it was what he expected.”You have daughters to go home too, remember?”

You’d always been kind, even when you were hurting. Even to people that hurt you. He’d always known that. But somehow, he wondered if that kindness was why you’d stayed in his contacts all these years—because part of you knew he might need it someday. 

Because he knows you’d be merciful to him, no matter what he’d done. No matter what he’d caused you. You’d pick up that phone and answer him. You’d let him hear your voice, like you used to do for hours and hours when you were younger.

“Yeah, you’re right.” he said, dragging himself to his feet. “Yeah, you’re right. I’ll go home.”

But as he stumbled down the street, the phone still pressed to his ear, he couldn’t help but say one last thing. “You were the best thing I ever had, you know that? The only thing that ever made sense. In all of my life. And I love you. I’ll love you forever for it.”

He heard you inhale sharply, but you didn’t respond. Not for a while. You took a moment to let out a small sob, as though trying to hold yourself together. And Suguru could imagine it. How it shatters him. Ah, he had made you cry again like this.

“You were the best of my life, Suguru.” You finally say, almost the saddest he’s ever heard you talk. You were still mourning him, he supposed. “The love of my life. You always will be, Suguru.”

The line went quiet, and then, mercifully, you hung up.

Suguru stood there for a moment, staring at the screen, the word “Disconnected” flashing at him in a cruel, mocking rhythm. His hand tightened around the phone, his knuckles turning white as the fury bubbled beneath the surface. He nodded to himself.

He wanted to scream, to hurl the phone into the street and watch it shatter into irreparable pieces, as if that would somehow undo the splintering inside him. But instead, his anger collapsed inward, folding into a hollow resignation. 

He shoved the phone into his pocket with a rough, jerking motion, his breaths shallow and uneven. He reached for a cigarette with the same hand, fingers trembling as they pulled it free. His lighter almost instantly lit the edge into a fiery smoke.

The first drag burned, the bitter smoke searing his throat and filling his lungs. It didn’t matter. He needed the distraction, needed something to keep him grounded when it felt like the world had slipped from beneath his feet. He lit the next one before the first was even finished, the acrid haze curling around him like a suffocating ghost.

He kept walking. The city stretched out before him, a labyrinth of muted lights and shadows that felt more hostile than familiar. The streets were quiet, save for the occasional distant wail of a siren or the shuffle of a stray figure in the dark. Cold wind bit at his skin, cutting through the thin jacket he hadn’t bothered to zip up.

It didn’t matter. None of it mattered.

This was the last time you’ll see each other.

He was going to do his plan soon enough.

And you won’t see him again, not ever again.

[togglesbloggle]

I've got to say, it's a very strange feeling, becoming the sort of person that is in the exact target audience for Buttercup Festival.

Like, this thing has been running for decades, since 2000 if you believe wikipedia, and it got around without ever being really discussed explicitly by people I know. The strips always drifted past me every now and then without incident- neither offensive nor inoffensive, a bit puzzling at times.

And then... something? Something in me, not in the strip, that much is clear enough. But now I just love these little things to death, on a good day it's competitive with Calvin and Hobbes or something else really top-tier.

And it's just bizarre, you know? They certainly don't rely on what you'd traditionally call humor, and even when there's a belly laugh it's not because there was anything like a joke per se. But if I try to explain to people what it is that makes the strip work, I just come up with all these ridiculous sentences that may or may not mean anything.

So I went from not getting the strips at all, and just walking past them without registering their presence, to really enjoying them and considering them one of my favorite comics ever, without once passing through a moment in time where I understood what made them so poignant. Just bouncing between two very different kinds of ignorance.

And that's interesting in itself, no? One kind of wants to reason through one's aesthetic preferences. I know I do. I suppose, on the grounds that I want to reason through everything. But my experience with Buttercup Festival seems determined to resist that treatment, at least so far.

Jokes as an art form are rather interesting- they get a laugh out of us before we know why they're funny, and discussions about humor tend to be unsatisfying after the fact. Explaining a joke doesn't make it any funnier, and the experience of 'funny' itself can't really be explained. Most forms of art, you can develop a deeper appreciation of the form by breaking it down in to specific shapes and methods and styles, and find new layers of beauty as you explore the structure of it. But it seems like laughter doesn't follow the same path, exactly.

Jokes aren't necessarily the only thing with this kind of structure. The koan, also, is supposed to open something to the student without any intervening explanation or analytical framework. Like a good joke, a koan often don't seem to make any damn sense at all, and like a good joke, a koan is often quite short. So that's two examples.

So there's this tricky thing where there's a class of experiences that seems to resist explanation, and we mostly encounter it through humor, but it's not actually limited to humor per se. I don't think I have the slightest idea where the contours of that thing are, or how to explore it, even though it's quite beautiful.

I don't think it's meaningless either, even though it sort of challenges the usual ways we define that term. I don't know how deep it goes, though it's much deeper than I expected. And you can grow in it over time, either because of certain experiences or certain insights or... I don't know. It wasn't signposted. I just kinda woke up here one day.

[fluentisonus]

wait can I just complain for a second bc this is kind of pissing me off a little but the only available editions you can find online of jj grandville's les metamorphoses du jour (1829) are 1850s and 1860s editions, which afaict are Not the original lithographs but rather engraving reproductions of them (which is touched on briefly here). which I had assumed just meant it would be a slightly different quality or have other slight differences, which would only be mildly frustrating to me except for the fact that I've been comparing the versions in this 1854 edition of the book on gallica with what (as far as I know) are original lithograph prints here in the british museum collections because some of the ones in the gallica edition were striking me as like Noticably not 1820s-30s in vibe and. they seem to have been straight up 'modernizing' the clothing in these 1850s reproductions??

(first version (1829) vs later version (1854))

hi hello what happened to the entire shape of her dress & sleeves??? and to his fall front & trouser straps??

(first version / later version)

this is literally a different dress?

😐.

this wouldn't annoy me so much (and in fact I would actually enjoy comparing & find it really interesting) except for the fact that as far as I've been able to tell there's no place (online at least) where you can see all of the original illustrations -- the british museum only has a few, & same with other places -- so some/most of these images seem to only exist (digitally I mean) in their 'updated' 1850s versions. and in fact some sites list the later version as being the the 1829 versions! I just want to see 1829 clothing is that too much to ask

[softerwider]

Response: I need help. I have to think deeply and I do not know anybody who will help me. It is uncomfortable to think, and especially so when one must make oneself vulnerable to do so. But here it is: I'm trying to be vulnerable and explain myself clearly; writing my thoughts. I'm reposting this here because it gave me hope. It gave me pause. It spoke to me deeply. It is kinky--but it really carried a level of introspection about the nexus of kink and shame and power and disgust and pain and pleasure and arousal. Paperfeedee laid a finger on how these all share in a close connection to one another. Her post describes perfectly the insane network of social signifying practices and intuitions that I have, and that I always imagine other people have. Not everybody as I am. I mean to say that this post of hers was, is, and shall continue to be enlightening. I have been a part of the feedist kink scene since some time in the early 2000's. Scary to think of myself wandering all over the internet like that. But anyway, even so, all this never once thought that I have internalized fat phobia. And, just like is described in Paperfeedee's post, there are elements of my kink that I am now realizing that I might have to disentangle from that fearful place. I caught a glimpse of what that might be like. There's a complex story about why my kink is closely tied to fat phobia, and maybe I'll get to speak it someday, but I have always wanted to gain weight. I've always considered myself a feeder switch, but I've had some v e r y intense sex dreams about being fed and fattened--none have been about feeding others. And yet, for as much as I enjoy overeating, indulging in fattening foods, and the idea becoming fatter and fatter, I've never been able to do so. I've blamed my bad (very efficient) metabolism; I've blamed my inability to buy enormous quantities of fast food on the regular; I've blamed my partner for being unwilling to be my feeder. I never looked to myself. Each of these things (enjoy overeating; love fattening food; want to be fat) is also tied in significant ways to formative, stressful, and traumatic times in my life. I won't get into them now. Suffice it to say that each thing, for as desirable as it is, is also overloaded with shame, discomfort, and is incredibly connected to my libido. Here is the nitty-gritty. I do not want to demonize anybody, least of all myself, for having the particular flavor of fetish that they do. I think that shame, discomfort, and arbitrary over-significance play crucial roles in the way that I experience sexual pleasure. Fear and helplessness is singed onto the texture of my jouissance. But what I think is most salient about Paperfeedee's post here is that it makes the case for the way that identification in phobia is sustained by the fascination it makes of the object of its fear. Identification is a process whereby a relationship between more than one thing and itself is defined, sustained, and elaborated. So, when I see someone in the store buying groceries and I notice how fat they are, that they have a lot of junk food, and my mind goes racing as it is wont to do about what an unrepentant glutton this person must be (etc.), I have participated in the process of identification. Phobia is a kind of identification that places the thing that is desirable at as far a distance from the self as possible. This distant relationship is a relationship nonetheless. The "Subconscious Hint" that Paperfeedee mentions here indicates precisely the way that this distance is a relationship, and one of the most intimate kind. My most intense sex dreams (or maybe just all my sex dreams) are about getting fat. Yet I'm afraid of what people will think if I get fat; frustrated that I can't do it; worried for the consequences; don't have the right body for it; etc. SO I think that I have been afraid of getting fat. I have neglected to examine the ways that my interest in feedism and fat fetishism have sustained these fears. I have never looked at the way that these fears could sustain the fetish.

I think that I have gleaned something about how the 'subconscious hint' leads to the inversion of the phobic dynamic in my personal case. I PROMISE that I will be thinking about this post for a very long time to come. I'm sorry if you are already tired of hearing me go on and on about this shit, because I am going to be on this for...ever? But to come back to the main point of this thread: I need help. I would like to use what I've learned here in order to examine the way that I sabotage my weight gain. I may try to gain weight, I may just allow myself to identify with the fear-object in a way that is emancipatory and also erases the fear from the relation. I can let someone else be afraid of my fat ass! I can hear that shitty fat-phobic comment that someone makes about how much I am eating and feel butterflies or go find a room and jerk off about it. I have become that which I rejected. I have embraced the part of myself that I shunned. I do not want to use my fetish as an excuse to sustain fat phobia. The point is that I will need help in thinking about this. (And also maybe tell me I'm looking fatter.) Thank you, and have a good night.

back when I was still thin and had yet to discover the whole "really into making myself unrecognizably fat" fetish, I still had like, a preoccupation with fat people that usually alternated between being super judgemental and being terrified that I'd get fat, which was like, definitely some kind of subconscious hint at like, man, I'm going to find out something crazy in a couple of years, but anyway

I distinctly remember grocery shopping with one of my friends in college, and seeing a woman who was pretty fat buying like, little debbie cakes and whatnot and just like, could not stop talking about it to my friend, could not let go of it, could not stop harping on "how does a person let themselves get that fat? how can you be that fat and not be trying to lose weight? how are you not embarrassed to be that fat and be seen buying those?" Even my friend had to ask like, what is your damage with this random woman?

anyway, obviously that wasn't cool of me and I've clearly gone on my own ✨️journey✨️ with confronting internalized fatphobia since then, but like knowing now that I have fully become that woman in the grocery store is like, part self actualization, probably part karmic retribution, and all like, getting to live a peak horny fantasy for me now, and I'm so here for it

(especially since my favorite grocery store is right next door to this really big, really nice gym, so it's just me and all the Lululemon wearin ass pilates baddies at the grocery store together)

[tea-tuesday]

this is the first time using a hobonichi weeks and i'm really enjoying it!! many a thoughts below......

i bought my 2025 hobonichi weeks planner a few weeks before it started so i decided to experiment with layouts and styles in the back for the last few weeks of 2024. you can really see the evolution from the week of Oct 28 to the week of Nov 18, e.g., how i went from one highlighter color (purple) to a whole system that i'll be carrying into 2025 :))) the colors i chose for the week of Nov 11 were so ugly that no one will be seeing that lolol. one issue is that i still don't know what to do with the empty page on the right side. i did a reflection on nyc one week but i'm not always in a reflective mode (i also do reflections on my life in my vent journal). i tried the alastair method but it usually takes me multiple weeks to complete a task. it was still helpful to see what i eventually need to do so i think the right side will be a very fluid system that changes based on my needs week-to-week. for now, i've been keeping an ongoing "interest log" and writing down quotes and poems that speak to me that week. i might implement a mini habit tracker too since i'm not great at maintaining my daily habits

my "aesthetic" goal for 2025 is for my planner to look as used and loved as possible! i'm not much of an artist nor a memory keeper (i have my 5-year planner for memory keeping) and i don't like keeping receipts but i made a better effort at preserving cute stickers and things from cafés and bookstores and other places (but only if i think they look good hahah). i also want my stickers and washi tape to look cohesive but it's a little hard for me because i operate on vibes (both artistically and generally) and never took any art classes or anything so idk if anything will look as "aesthetically pleasing" as i want it to. the only thing that saves me is my neat handwriting. but! my ultimate goal is to not be so hard on myself about how my planner looks since it's meant to be a functional tool. i do think i'm doing a good job on keeping it true to myself and my life 😎

anyway that was my ted talk and thank you if you made it this far!! qs for anyone who wants to answer: what is your 2025 lineup? are there any things you're bringing into 2025? what's your planner philosophy? i'd love to know !

[arcane-ish]

Vi got robbed by the finale

First, a few words on where I'm coming from. I really enjoyed Vi and felt for her in season 1. I'm a Cait/Vi enjoyer and was looking forward to their resolution. I do not have fundamental objections to Vi becoming an enforcer. I don't have a problem with Caitlyn and Vi having sex in the Jinx cell and I actually think it is one of the better scenes of her arc.

IMO she was great, tragic POV heroine and lead in season 1.

Her status changed in season 2, which is reflected in the screntime distribution (ie both Jinx and Caitlyn having more screentime). This does not have to be a bad thing. You can have good arcs and emotionally resonant stories even as a supporting character.

But the more and more I think about the finale and Act 3, the more I think Vi really got treated badly. And the core is really this:

I've joked that I thought about switching my ship allegiance to Mel/Cait after the finale. I'm not actually serious about it. But it got me to think.

And I came up with the following thesis:

1.) Vi is really, really unimportant and useless in the final fight 2.) That matters because they went with an an action finale

On to a long post discussing Vi's role in the finale and Vi's arcs in Act 1 and 2 and her lack of meaningful arc in Act 3.

Within the finale there's really a clear hierarchy of conflicts.

1.) Viktor is the biggest threat and the most emotionally emphasized climax. Jayce is the action and emotional hero of this threat, Ekko is the supporting cool action hero of this threat.

2.) Ambessa is the second most scary threat. She's not a universe threatening as Viktor, but she's still badass and interesting and she gets a cool and very lengthy action scene associated with her. Mel is the emotional core of this conflict. Cait gets the badass action part of this conflict. Mel and Cait also directly coordinate, increasing the badassery.

3.) Warwick by comparison is barely a goon. He feels like an afterthought. Not like a major threat. Vi and Jinx are "assigned" to him. Jinx is the hero of this already fairly unimportant conflict and I would argue she even gets the bigger emotional punch, even though Vi is clearly affected as well.

I find it striking how different Vi's role in the battle feels to Caitlyn. Caitlyn it feels gets two badass action sequences. First in the smoke, really getting to show of her sharp shooting:

While at the same time, Vi gets her shit kicked in by regular Noxian soldiers and is busy... trying to hold a door? Babysitting the shooting of a rocket?

I've been thinking about it. On paper, there isn't that much of a difference between Cait's sharp shooter sequence and Vi's sequence at the tower.

Both show several people dying around them (though Cait acts calm and professional about it while Vi reacts emotionally). Both have bit player characters stepping in to help execute what they are doing (Steb placing the bomb, Jhin tease guy shooting the rocket). Both have missions that kind of fail (Cait's bomb doesn't go off, the rocket shoots the empty egg thing).

But it still feels like Caitlyn just gets way more glory shots. While Vi gets pushed to the floor, gets rescued by Jinx and Ekko riding to her rescue.

Her big glory shot

In theory should be great. She is punching Warwick to rescue Jinx. But it's shot so far away and turns around so fast into Warwick choking her, we don't feel the impact of her punch at all, even though on paper it is Vi using her gauntlets in a really cool innovative way.

If I compare how the Cait/Ambessa fight goes, yes Cait also gets hurt and thrown to the ground.

But Cait's fight just feels way more badass and Cait like a fundamental part of that conflict. Cait and Mel fight like a well coordinated team while Vi, Jinx and Ekko feel a lot more erratic. Cait is the one who initiates the fight in the first place, Cait is the one who makes a badass sacrifice to open up an essential tactical weakness. Yes, Mel gets the last shot and the emotional payoff, but it still feels very much like Caitlyn's fight too.

Yes in theory, Vi and Jinx go back and forth with saving each other, but it's just much faster and erratic, and *busier*, it just never has the same impact to hit. (I would be very interested in seeing a numbers breakdown, how much screentime is spent on the various different fights but also who has longer scenes before the next cut is)

It just feels like this finale is filled with scene after scene after scene with Vi being shellshocked and helpless and not really being super effective enough to compensate for that. Neither her glory moments, not her emotional moments really get the time to breathe the way this moment does with slo-mo and a song.

Compare Vi hurtling herself at Warwick to save Jinx, versus Jinx hurtling herself at Warwick to save Vi.

Okay, so is this just a dick measuring contest over who gets to be the most badass?

No. It's not a crime for Vi not to be the most effective fighter in the finale. But let's take a step back.

Act 1: Vi is a supporting character, but she has a clear role

I have said before I feel a major difference to season 1 is that rather than Vi being the main driving character, the show switched. Cait is the main character of Act 1, Jinx of Act 2.

Vi has lost her spot as main character, but her role in the story is still very clear. She is there as Cait's partner, her heart, her conscience. She witnesses Cait's distress. She tries to reach out to her. When they have an action scene, they work together and coordinate.

Arcane has action roots. Characters express themselves through their action scenes. That's why it's important who gets what action scene.

Also, while Cait's grief and hate and decisions drive the events of Act 1, Vi has her own arc of having hardened towards Jinx (agreeing Cait should take the shot) and then having that challenged by the end and of course getting an emotionally charged poignant moment when Cait dumps her when Vi takes a stand for Isha (= Vi making a choice).

Act 2: Vi is a supporting character, but she has a clear emotional arc

IMO Jinx is the clear lead character of act 2. She has a clear arc with Isha, befriending Isha, rescuing Isha, losing Isha.

Jinx is also the driving force of the Warwick arc. She encounters Warwick first. She is the one Warwick recognizes first. She puts 2+2 together. She seeks out Vi. She initiates their trip to the mines. She gives Vi the important hint about correctly handling Warwick. Warwick jumps into action ("Don't touch my daughter") to save her. His "death" in this arc is linked to Jinx and Isha.

But Vi still has a nice and satisfying enough arc in Act 2 anyway. She starts at rock bottom and grieving, she gets roped in by Jinx, she is initially suspicious of Jinx, she starts to trust Jinx more, her reunion with Warwick is emotional, they all go and try to help him, Jinx and Vi think about their mother.

Vi also goes from grieving Cait, to fixing her own life a little bit, to re-encountering Cait and teaming up with her again.

The big theme of Vi's arc is trust. She has to get over her fears and trust Jinx's advice on Warwick, just like she has to trust Caitlyn about letting Cait tie her up and play fake prisoner.

Act 3: Jinx has an arc about Vi, but Vi has no arc about Jinx

Jinx's in arc in Act 3 is about deciding to leave Vi. Everything in this arc is to prepare us for it.

Vi is not at all in the first episode. Even though the trigger of that episode was according to Amanda Overton what would happen if Vi had died in the original explosion, and the episode is absolutely respectful of Vi, with much grief and praise about it, in the end the portrayal isn't really about how life is impossible for these characters without Vi.

We get told what's going to happen to Jinx and get emotionally prepared for it, even though we don't know it. Sometimes leaping a step forward means leaving a few things behind. We get prepared for the idea that leaving things behind doesn't have to be a bad thing.

In the next episode, again we are getting prepared for what Jinx wants to do through her vision of Silco. She's going to heroically break the cycle of violence. Also, codes and commitments (like Vi's to Jinx) can be the bars we lock outselves in with. Identities (like the Jinx identity) are the cells we want to break out of.

Jinx then makes her decision. She's going to leave Vi. Vi never giving up on her is perceived to be something negative by her. She sets Vi free, telling her to stop caring about Jinx, telling her to be happy with Cait instead.

In the last episode, Ekko talks her out of killing herself. But Jinx still is determined to leave Vi. She says her goodbye to Vi. She assures Vi that it's not a problem because they will always be close anyway.

She then cuts the ties, lets go of Vi's hand and tumbles down with Warwick (and by most people's logic, fakes her own death and leaves the city).

Jinx has made a decision about Vi, which she executes. But Vi has no say in this decision. That's why she has no arc. She doesn't get to make a decision about her future really.

Even sneaking out to try and save Jinx we find out was prepared for by Caitlyn (and of course we find out that Caitlyn is the one who understands what Jinx did while Vi is still outside of this decision). And yes, she chooses to sleep with Caitlyn and she chooses to live with Caitlyn. But do these things really feel like part of her arc or just Vi reacting to circumstances?

IMO Vi wasn't ready to let Jinx go, that's why Jinx had to do it against Vi's will. That's why Vi doesn't make a real decision in Act 3.

Amanda said they wanted to explore who Vi would be if she didn't have anybody she had to protect and that is a valid and cool idea. But how much time with that did we really get?

And yes I genuinely think that if Vi had gotten a better action role within the finale it would have made a real difference in not making her feel so aimless.

Don't get me wrong. I get why they split it like that. The story required for Vi and Jinx to be paired up, so they can execute the conclusion of their sisters story. And unfortunately, compared to the other threats going on in the finale that story didn't really get the attention and gravitas and time and focus it deserved. (also Vi doesn't have a meaningful enough relationship with Ambessa for it to work for her to be in the Ambessa confrontation)

The problem is also that Vi doesn't really have much of a say in the conclusion of the sisters story. And her future is with Caitlyn.

So if they had found a way to sneak in some Vi and Caitlyn also doing action together or even just have Vi react to Caitlyn's duel or have Caitlyn react to Vi being under attack from Warwick, I think it would have felt more satisfying vis a vis the relationship they are going to have.

Alternatively. I love Ekko. I love that he got a badass fighting moment against Viktor. But in the moment where Jayce flies past Vi, for a moment I thought Vi would switch battlefields and Jayce and Vi would team up again, like they've done a couple of times already. If Vi's identity within the final battle was to be a big damn hero, that would also have imo left us more assured about what her identity is moving forward. Rather than the only thing we have is her being fairly weak in battle, being left out of information loops/not being smart enough to recognize them and being Cait's sweet live in girlfriend.

I don't hate Vi. I don't hate CaitVi. And I actually have some hope that maybe there is a chance that CaitVi as a pair will get to show off their stuff in some other form after all. But yeah, that's why imo season 2 and particularly Act 3 really did Vi a disservice.

(I'm not even suggesting things like Vi's decision to fight for Piltover and seeing so many Zaunites die being given gravitas or her reacting to Sevika being on the council, because I think the writers just have no interest in this topic at all)

[idolomantises]

Since you mentioned it would you go off on what you really like about Humans B Gone? I’ve been really enjoying it as well for the world building especially

the world building, the characters, the incredibly bizarre set. It sort of reminds me of how it felt reading dorohedoro, where there's this completely bizarre and alien setting but everyone is so casual to each other. ive been a little behind due to work but i've loved everything about it so far.

also yes i want to fuck the mantis lady.

[the-grey-hunt]

was going to put this in a reply, but my professional book expertise has been called on, and the reply got too long.

The Goblin Emperor books by Katherine Addison (start with Goblin Emperor, then read Witness for the Dead), for the intricate worldbuilding of the elvish imperial court.

Also, read Ancillary Justice (trilogy) by Ann Leckie. If you like that, continue with Translation State and the various short stories. Scifi, also fantastic worldbuilding around the space empire and their intelligent warships.

Definitely recommend Ursula K Le Guin; it's up to you whether you start with Left Hand of Darkness (scifi, genderless alien planet and human ambassador) or Earthsea (fantasy series, wizard on a series of island nations)

Naomi Novik, particularly the Scholomance trilogy (about a much darker, more dangerous magic boarding school) and her short stories, Buried Deep (side stories from many of her established universes, and some original universe works).

To Shape a Dragon's Breath by Moniquill Blackgoose, an indigenous fantasy where a First Nations girl with her dragon must attend the colonial dragon training school. Incredible worldbuilding, paralleling the real world rather than set in it.

For cosmic horror: James Kennedy's books, particularly his adult two, Dare to Know and Bride of the Tornado. His YA book, The Order of Odd-Fish, is also really good but lighter in tone.

For a Murderbot fan, try:

Binti by Nnedi Okorafor, a novella-length trilogy about a girl from a very isolated Earth society going into space for university, (if you like it, read everything Okorafor has ever written, particularly Zahra the Windseeker. It's worked for me so far!)

Project Hail Mary by Andy Weir (I consider it to be much better than the Martian). More of his scifi.

Time to Orbit: Unknown by Derin Edala (online, but also available in print if you want it). It's a completely normal spaceship with zero problems, ever, and definitely no conspiracies among the crew that built it. After that, everything else on Edala's website.

in terms of non-books:

What the Folklore, a silly podcast about retelling old stories and making up even sillier ways to fix the plot holes. Incredibly entertaining to listen to if you have the patience for podcasts (I don't, but I make myself sit down for WTFolklore)

Dominic Noble's Lost in Adaptation. He does fantastic videos going over books, their movie/TV adaptations, and what worked/what didn't and *why*. I've enjoyed a lot of his videos on stuff I've never read/watched. Also sometimes he shows his cats onscreen.

Watch Secret Sleepover Society's playthrough of Ghost Trick. If you get interested enough, you can play Ghost Trick yourself on mobile, I hear, and possibly your computer. I played it on a console so I don't know the exact computer specs.

Looking for media recs. Any format. Any genre that isn't romance or erotica.

[fluxweeed]

hi i'm a grouchy old hag muttering to myself in my hut in the woods

1. not everyone finds it hurtful to find out that people are discussing their fic in private discord servers or on tiktok, actually. i for one passionately don't care that people aren't only mentioning my fic where i can see it. ofc i'm curious when one fic gets a sudden unexplained boost in kudos for a few days. am i HURT that i don't know exactly where the new readers are coming from? am i upset that the boost in hits/kudos isn't accompanied with a flurry of praise? am i sad that i can't jump into the discussion? i am not.

2. the messaging of "okay but you wouldn't post the fic if you didn't enjoy validation" makes me want to delete my ao3 immediately kasdjhfg. people post things for all sorts of reasons thank u!! my personal motivation is i'm trying to make myself feel better about making imperfect things!! the idea that by posting fic i'm inherently coming across as seeking praise makes me want to throw up. (since this discussion started, i've considered disabling comments on my fic for this reason – but i'm worried that move is so non-standard that it'll end up coming across even MORE that i want attention, so i haven't taken the plunge yet)

3. i also pretty firmly disagree with "commenting on fic builds community!" (i made this joke in a grouchy bluesky rant already so if u saw that pretend u didn't) but personally i feel the community spirit when i'm in a server discussing which weasley has the biggest dick (percy). i don't feel it when people are being nice to me in my fic's comments. i'd almost go as far as to say community CAN'T be built when one person is praising another bc there's an inherent imbalance. sure, writers can mutually read and comment on each other's fic and become friends/community co-members that way, but what if u don't write? who's in YOUR comments telling u how great u are? idk about anyone else, but when i am in a community space (like a discord server) and someone starts being nice about my fic, i feel awkward. the focus shifts from a shared enjoyment onto something inherently UNshared, because one person is the creator and the others are readers. that's not to say that these interactions shouldn't happen, but imo it's disingenuous to say that's the core of fandom community.

4. i really can't stress enough how crazy it makes writers when they're writing for praise/validation. i've had conversations with very well-known drarry writers where they've been genuinely upset that nobody is reading their fic (the fic in question had hundreds of comments). i've had conversations with people who take part in fests, only to continually sort the works by stats and feel awful that theirs isn't at the top. i've had conversations with people who have had multiple devastating life events happen to them so they're struggling to write, and the lack of New Fic Comment Validation makes them feel 10x worse. i can't help but feel like if you ARE posting for feedback (or "recognition" or however you want to package it), it's genuinely not good for your brain.

5. obviously there's nuance to all of this! it's a big topic! but notice how we're talking about it on tumblr, not in ao3 comments. it would probably be even more productive in a discord server. in a voice chat. you know – fandom community spaces like that.

6. can y'all keep the next round of discussions to like 700 words max pls lmao i have stuff to do

[heroes-in-the-dark]

Hi!!!! It's me again with a new fan art, one of several sketches I have pending haha!

In episode 119.5 when toga mentions that Tokoyami gives him his blood, I couldn't help but remember the scene where Ochako tells him that he would give her his blood, in episode 19 of season 7

That children's scene is very symbolic, and I decided to do the version that no one asked me for, but our little fandom needed

Your work has been too special for me, my heart received it with affection and it has a great place in my mind every day, at least I dedicate 6 hours of thought to it a day HAHA! It sounds crazy but it's my Roman empire, and my life changed for the better since I've been following this fanfic

So I basically say this to say, THANK YOU.

And I was wondering for a while , would you give me your permission to make content, like videos about this fanfic? Clearly all the credits of creation would be yours, I only enjoy creating things that I like, that's why I ask permission. Why I respect your rights as an author 🕴️💖

Anyway, I love you, I hope you like my fan art, many more will come jsjsjs😊

I ABSOLUTELY ADORE THIS ONE!!!! 💕😭💕

Your art is so good, and this scene is actually SO important because we're not quite there yet, but I'm really anticipating when Tokoyami and Toga see each other next! Their little faces are so precious I just wanna cherish them both 🥺

Art of these two is so rare outside of this little corner I've written, but this actually means so so much. It's just so perfect, for reasons I can't yet fully explain, and I'm absolutely giddy that you drew this 🥰 so thank you!!!

And you're so sweet! 💕 Honestly, it's been the support and continued enthusiasm from my readers that gave me the motivation to make it this far, so I really couldn't have done it without you! I love how much I was able to explore throughout the story, while giving attention to characters who didn't get nearly enough in canon. And I'm so happy that I can share these thoughts and ideas with others! Especially with how long it's been going on for, this hasn't exactly been a short journey, and you and quite a few others have been keeping up with it year after year. And that's amazing! Thank you so much for being a fan of my work!!!

You can absolutely make fan content! I trust you to credit me and all that, so go right on ahead. And by all means, feel free to share! I'd love to see anything you end up making 😊

[highermagic]

Big Post of Ghoap/CoD fics!

I've been writing a lot for Call of Duty but haven't been great at keeping up to date on posting, so here's a big list of the things I've been writing! Mind the tags for each as they'll contain specifics. Enjoy!

Twitter Archive: Ghoap | A collection of my threads from twitter and bluesky involving ghoap + cod in general.

Rough-Hewn | Dragon Price, ghostprice, implied poly141. Price is a dragon that comes to defend his hoard when they get taken from him.

Light Up Six Torches | Ghoap WIP. Greek myth inspired AU with Ghost, Gaz, Price, and Roach as sailors who come across Soap, who seems to have survived an attack by sirens. Not all is at it seems.

Ad Astra Per Aspera | Reaper Ghost and Viking Soap who tries to convince Ghost to let him live through the power of his dick love.

Results May Vary | Dragon Ghost and Wolf Shifter Soap, who are in love with each other but have drastically different mating practices and keep accidentally screwing it up. Happy ending!

Snowblind | Ghoap featuring Laswell, an Envoy on her way to visit King MacTavish and his sorcerer consort. Great feats of magic and devotion unlike any other, with lots of my favorite kind of worldbuilding.

Chasing the Rabbit | A CoD x Outlast crossover with Waylon, Eddie, and Miles as well as others from the cast of Outlast. Ghost was captured and put into the machine and Soap goes in to get him out, but of course it isn't that simple.

Like Feeding Something Starving | WIP. Poly141 + Ghost with a womb tattoo where if he doesn't get creampied often enough he'll go insane. Lots of mental fuckery in this one, all of them loving each other as best they can considering the circumstances.

Idle Hands With Time to Kill | Ghost is away on a solo mission and calls Soap to keep him company. Phone sex and very unsafe uses of a knife.

Where the Delicate Stops | Mafia boss Ghost with his right hand man Soap. Soap reminds Ghost what happens when he takes his mask off for other people. Rough and possessive and, in my opinion, some of the best smut I've ever written.

Scars Left By a Stray Cat | A Ghoap AU where Ghost used to be Soap's childhood babysitter, and they find each other again in the military. Very soft.

Weaned on Bitter Honey | Omegaverse Ghoap where Ghost gets dosed with some kind of super soldier serum and everyone keeps a very cool head about it, naturally. Has a WIP sequel with Hannigram and Weddie from Outlast.

Bombs, Babies, and Bullets | Animal companion AU where Ghost has a stork and Soap has a kingsnake, and they fall in love.

Glow-worm | Ghoap. Ghost interrogates a prisoner and Soap is really, really into it.

Bonded Pair: Do Not Separate | Rock pigeon hybrid Ghost trying his best to build a nice roosting nest for Johnny.

The World Ends With a Whimper | Alone Ghost and Soap taking care of each other in the wake of the zombie apocalypse.

I have more in the pipeline but that's all of them so far! Enjoy! <3

[khaire-traveler]

Hello there! I'm very new to hellenic polytheism and came across a question that I am not sure how to approach. I would be really grateful if you could let me know your thoughts on this (please don't feel obligated or anything, tho. I know I am just a random person asking a random question 🫣). So, for a while now, I've been getting more into greek mythology and from there into fandoms that depict the deities (e.g. Epic the musical which I love a lot). Would you say it is inappropriate to seek out fanfiction or fanart (especially those including ships) in those fandoms, or should I refrain from doing that as it would be disrespectful? Or are there limits I should be aware of? Thank you so much should you choose to answer this 💜 (I apologise for missing paragraphs. I am not sure how to do those on mobile.) (Also, is there a right way to end these kinds of letters/messages/questions? Like a way to express my gratefulness?) (Sorry if none of this makes sense. I always get anxious messaging strangers, but I couldn't find answers anywhere, so I thought I'd just ask🫣)

Khaire, Melie!

Ah, yes. The age-old question. How sinful is fanfiction, exactly? /joke (wanted to start this off light-hearted)

In all seriousness, I'll start with this: If you want to know how the gods feel about it, ask them. There is no better answer than the one that comes directly from the source. I understand the nerves around asking this question; some Hellenic Polytheists feel VERY strongly about it, and honestly, seeing their strong opinions has made me doubt my own interests in such media. Remember that some rando's opinion online, however, isn't the law, regardless of how strongly they feel about it or how desperately they want you to do exactly what they're doing. Opinions are opinions; facts are facts - they are separate things. Personally - and this is MY opinion -I think never engaging with modern media depicting the gods is a little too strict of an approach, and by following that, I feel that a lot of people are banning themselves from engaging with fictional media that they might enjoy. Each piece of modern media about the gods is a creative interpretation of Greek mythology, and people have been doing this kind of thing with other religions - that they don't believe in - for AGES. It's entirely normal, even if it is kind of annoying sometimes. Now, some retellings, games, shows, etc. genuinely take things too far, in my opinion, and warp the mythology so completely that it might as well be a different story entirely. I'm bordering on a tangent, so I'll move on.

Modern media about the gods isn't an inherently abhorrent, evil thing that should always be avoided, however, but personally, I do draw the line of engagement at shipping.

First and foremost, live your life the way you want to. Engage with your practice however you wish. I'm not the law-maker of this religion - no one is - and while I might disagree with someone's approach, I'm not going to shit all over them for doing things differently from myself. Now, into my opinion. I don't think shipping gods - be it from a modern form of media or not - that you worship is appropriate, personally. In my experience, it will blur your actual perception of those gods. I've seen it happen over and over again that people confuse the fictional representation of their God in media with the actual god, then feel the need to distance themselves from the media in order to regain something they feel that they lost. Like I said, you do whatever you wish, but I find it's just better to avoid the awkwardness of shipping entirely.

If you want to read fanfiction about the gods in fictional media, go for it, but I'm not personally a big fan of that. I don't know how the gods feel about it; I can't speak for them (no one can). For all I know, they could be reading the fanfiction themselves and laughing their asses off, who knows? But as a worshipper, I'm not personally comfortable with the idea of reading it. Again, do what you want with your life. If you want to read some spicy fanfic of one god with another, I'm literally not going to stop you, but make sure you're able to separate the fictional characters from the gods you actually worship before you do so - that's my advice. Too often, people end up conflating the two. When a fandom or fanfiction begins affecting your worship, practice, or even just the way you view the gods, that's when it's a problem.

I think the community has been torn on the topic of modern media for a while. Some people love it, while others utterly despise it, and you'll notice that answers will vary from person to person. In my opinion, these pieces of media become problematic when they swarm the fuck out of a small religious community that already struggles to be taken seriously. An example of this is what happened with Lore Olympus a while back. When the comic got popular, a ton of people would swarm and attack worshippers of Apollo online, calling them all sorts of extremely vile things, all because of a comic that literally wasn't even mythologically accurate. In my opinion, fandoms can get out of control sometimes, and when you're engaging with one based around the gods, I advise you to just be careful and aware. For some people, fanart and fanfiction of the gods are extremely uncomfortable, similarly to if someone were to ship Buddha with Jesus in the regard that it just...feels weird for people who actually worship those figures. Other people could care less, being able to fully separate the fictional characters from the gods they worship. Base it on your comfort, and the comfort of your gods.

I hope this helped to give you my perspective. I'm not going to tell you what is or isn't the right choice because honestly, different people will give you a different answer, and I'm anything but a religious authority. You're allowed to do as you wish, but I will always advise you to tread with caution and check in with yourself about how it feels for you personally. Reach out to your gods and directly ask them (such as through tarot, or another form of divination), "Hey, how do you feel about me engaging with this?" Asking directly is ALWAYS a good idea, in my experience. Take care, Melie. 🧡

[bebemoon]

hi dove 🤍 I've been dreaming of weddings lately, and I wondered about what your take would be on a beach wedding? I have the feeling you could put together the most picturesque and magical event ever !

as far as visuals, this is the right place. mermaid bride was the basic concept of my archive c. 2o17 - 2o22...maybe even a little earlier/later than that. the earlier of those years, the warmer months were within in the rusalochka palette. {x} {x} {x} {x} {x} {x}

my take is a lot, frankly. i would, in my wildest fantasy, arrive by silk-laden ship and take a little flower-filled boat to shore to reach the altar. little girls from the wedding party would absolutely be with me, in the boat, tossing petals into the sea and my veil would be so over-long it would trail and drift along in the tide behind us. other boats would accompany mine, i think, possibly with sailors in smart uniform singing really old romantic shanties to echo off the glistening shore- ghostly in the petal-scattered offing. i'd have my baby brother help me down from the boat once i reached the shore and we'd wade through ankle-deep waters to the beach where my beloved waits. past wild horses who keep to the shoreline (observers, like any wedding guest), towers of sand and shell, pearl pots and scattered flowers and candles long-blown-out by the sea breeze. wed by personal friend, qiuetly exchanging vows and rings- all drowned-out from the ears of others by the sound of the sea behind us. our loved ones would enjoy a feast of delicacies set upon long tables in the shallows (x). lively string music and bonfires would spring to life as night falls. and, after everything, we would leave our guests in a slip of moonlight by boat to return to the ship. from the edge, we would still see our friends and family by firelight, dancing and waving back at us from the beach.

[teoft]

It's like Tumblr has become almost a diary for me, thanks to no character limit and a read more button. This atmosphere of acceptance and understanding helps a lot too.

I'll get back to posting actual art, juggling with Twitter and Bluesky along with commissions is taking up a lot of my time.

Anyway, thoughts about art community and being social

For the longest time I've had this feeling of being an outsider in this vague community of artists that see as colleagues of sorts. Like I meet all the "criteria" of being in the group, and yet don't really feel like I'm part of it. Well, it seems I am right in some way, and the reason is that they interact with each other, while I sit here drawing alone.

Unfortunately I've always been prone to isolate myself from others. I grew up feeling like I should be ashamed of loving to draw, since it was always fanart monsters, creatures and cool guys instead of "proper art" like animals and portraits. Before social media, I only drew for myself and never showed anything to anybody. I hid my art from my family, from the world, so that I wouldn't be judged. I think it is one of the biggest reasons why I have trouble interacting with people in the context of art (tbh I'm shit at being social anyway but that's a whole another problem).

Even when I had a scanner and means to post my art online, I never did, due to the whole "if you put something online it'll be there forever" mindset. My first actual account anywhere online must've been Facebook in 2010ish, where I only had a few friends. It was the perfect place for me to finally post anything online, and so I did: I used to post pretty much everything I drew on there. Slowly gaining courage, I eventually made my original Tumblr account, then Deviantart, Twitter, etc.

Still, all I did was throw my art out there in hopes of somebody liking it. I didn't really know how to interact with the people who commented on my posts, so instead I mostly just... made more art. I did have some friend groups here and there, but either they ended up falling apart or my social battery drained in such a way that I slowly drifted away. I had gotten used to just being by myself and relying only on myself in the online art world.

During my design studies, I started putting more thought and work on promoting myself, so that it could be one career path for me to take. My mindset was that I'll work hard and become "big", even if it meant that one post gained me just one follower. In 2020 I ended up going viral with a meme and suddenly getting tens of thousands of followers. It was great and a welcome boost of morale, but unfortunately 2020 was otherwise one of the worst years in my life.

Throughout the years people have come and gone, so the only constant for me has been myself, and my drive to develop my skills. Thus it's been too easy for me to just isolate myself. In a way it has been my strength with regards to art, but sometimes I wish I knew how to make lasting connections. I think/know I might be autistic to some degree, which adds to the difficulty of being social. Though, to be honest, I don't know if I'd gotten this far without my autistic hyperfixations.

I guess the thing I need to do now to fix this problem of loneliness and isolation is to just... slowly try and be more social. To reply to comments and talk to people. All of which is easier said than done. Still, just gotta take that first step and then keep going.

Despite lacking the kind of community I yearn for, it seems I've made a name for myself, enough so that people seem to take pride in knowing me. Or at least that's the impression I've gotten a few times. But still, I am happy that I've had a positive effect on people. After all, my two main motivators in art are that I like doing it, and I like when people enjoy my art.

[aidansplaguewind]

Hi @andreabaideas ! We don't know each other but I follow @mzannthropy and I just wanted to say I agree with everything you said about expressing one's opinions and not caring what others think of it. And yes, especially women. I'm a very opinionated woman and as a result I've been called so many awful things by men. I just don't understand why they can't handle us having a voice. I don't understand what's going on in the US right now and why men are so offended by women in power. I mean, don't get me wrong, I can explain it in ways like they're deeply insecure and their masculinity is incredibly fragile, and they're afraid women no longer need men for anything (including sex) and that, especially, terrifies them. But even knowing all of that, I still just don't understand it. So what if a woman doesn't need you, isn't it enough that one WANTS you? But I think the problem lies there. It means they actually have to TRY to get a woman to want them because the days of women having to get married to survive are mostly gone. And now they have to try to be better people, they have to try to hold an intelligent conversation, they have to try to have varied interests and hobbies etc. And frankly I think most men are lazy when you look at that way and they don't want to put forth the effort to earn our interest and desire.

Anywho...

@mzannthropy I think we discussed this before, about how when I first got into Sam earlier this year I noticed immediately that there was a lot of appreciation and attention on his roles on The Hunger Games, Daisy Jones, and ME Before You. I'm wondering though if these are, in fact, people that I would consider fairweather fans. Not used by exact definition but its the closest I can think of to describe it. It's people who only like a celebrity for like one or two roles and are more in love with the character than the actor. Usually those fans don't stick around once the fixation on said character wears off.

I admit, I'm not as huge a fan of Sam as you or @jesstasticvoyage are, because my heart will always belong to Aidan Gillen, but I do consider myself a genuine fan. I just enjoy watching Sam work. He's extremely talented, unbelievably so. I will also admit that he's a far better actor than Aidan. I can't really put into words what he brings to the screen. A passion for what he does, obviously, but more than that. He's simply fantastic. One of my favorite performances of his is Oswald Mosley in Peaky Blinders. He's despicable but Sam is such a pleasure to watch in that performance. As good looking as he is, he did so well, I still hated his guts as Oswald.

Billy Dunne is also a favorite, even though I know you have a lot of not great opinions on DJATS. I didn't read the book so I have nothing to compare it to, so I did enjoy it very much. I was just baffled at what all he did to achieve that performance. The weight loss, yes, and learning to play an instrument, learning to SING well, recording an entire album. That's dedication. And when he's on screen I 100% believe he is Billy Dunne.

I also really liked him in Their Finest. Devastated by the ending but I loved watching it. His performance in The Corrupted is notable as well because that character just seems so not like real life Sam but he pulled it off completely.

Anyway, I'm getting off my point, which was that I personally think if you only like an actor in one role, you can't really say you're a REAL fan of that actor. A fan of the character, sure, but how can one be a fan of the actor if they only like them in one thing? Or even just two things? Especially if you look at the characters in question. They're these McDreamy type characters written and cast to get the attention of young women and teenage girls. I don't want to sound like a gatekeeper but if you only like one role then you're a fan of the character.

Omg, I just made this post so long. Imma shut up now. I really do have too many opinions sometimes 😅

Sam Claflin and Holliday Grainger in ‘Any Human Heart’ (2010)  

[marciaillust]

What discworld books have you read so far? I've been wanting to get into the series for a while but I never now where to start 🥺

My dear best friend is overseeing the whole process as I began reading the books as a part of a pact/challenge

They made me start with Going Postal as that would introduce me to "the most shaped guy out there that you'll love" and they were right I loved the guy and the book too. It's sorta a trilogy so I wanted to immediately go into the second book (Making Money) but I was forbidden from doing so as that includes Sam Vimes which is like a whole guy from the Nightwatch books, and my friend's big fav.

So then I was made to read Guards Guards. I didn't enjooooy GG all that much but later I was informed that Going Postal is Pratchett at his high point well into writing Discworld while GG is one of the first books in the series so he is still finding his footing there. But it did a great Job of introducing Sam Vimes, Carrot, Sybil the dragon lady and all the other Nightwatch characters.

While I'm not a fan of GG I think reading it was kinda necessary to properly enjoy the next Nightwatch book aka Men At Arms (I'm still doing my prep work for Making Money). Without reading GG I don't think Carrot growing up, or the conflict between Sam and Sybil, or the whole idea that the watch is getting new recruits would be anywhere as meaningful because how would you know what the status quo even was. I am really enjoying Men At Arms, I am currently mid-book! It came out like 4 years after GG so the writing style somewhat ripened in the meantime and resembles the quality of Going Postal (it has more pathos and new lovely freaks!!).

After I finish MAA I'll finally indulge in Making Money! And I've already set my eyes on Rising Steam (third book in the series). After that I might go back to the Nightwatch books but I've also been curious about the book with the Death's assistant, I am blanking on the name rn.

So that was my journey. I was told partially it was curated like that because it gives you the "potential blorbos" on a silver plate, as my friend knows I am no bookworm and I will require something to stick around for.

I am no expert on where to start either, I just know I am neck deep in the investment pool of Moist Von Lipwig