#delusions (and terrible fictions)

[thevagabondexpress]

genderbent-tsc spoilers (anybody who's read genderbent-tlh will not have anything spoiled for them though)

ultimately i think the greatest tragedy of a city built by blood and iron is that anastasia succeeded. we have tabitha fields. who will go on to live the most fucked up life for years before she goes back to london because the only person involved in her conception who actually wanted to be involved is both evil and also dead. the greatest tragedy of delusions and terrible fictions is that psicpolnitsa succeeded. maybe she didn't take london herself but to stop her judith put her own name on those beacons. judith took on psipolnitsa's role in the salt rite. judith colonized. the city responds to her and hers and it always will because she became the very force she sought to destroy, even if she doesn't hardly know the extent of what she's done. the greatest tragedy of historical genderbent-tsc is that in the end the good guys lost equally as much as they won.

[4uru]

@thevagabondexpress bc u cannot read the dms. Its still unfinished but-

Misha: serving cunt while jude is barely hanging on to sanity.

Tracy: lesbianfail™

Pontia : trying to be cool. But the height difference is creating distance. (Aye girl, tries to rest hands on shoulder and completely misses and falls on her face)

Benji and eugene: older brother ™

Benji is trying a new stache look, but it is making him look like a pervert (he is in denial)

[streettealee]

Madman’s Blues

https://archiveofourown.org/works/34986475/chapters/87132925

Madman’s Blues is the first book of a genderbent retelling of The Last Hours. And I want you to read it.

You’ve got body diversity among the now male cast (tell me you’re also tired of the cookie-cutter ab-ridden teens and up that permeate TSC and all the scrawny guys because heaven forbid a male-presenting love interest be as physically rounded as dearly beloved female characters), which also includes a short king and his scary (and tall) gf. We have plot that doesn’t hinge solely on miscommunication. Also: healthier lesbians. What more do I need to say. There are hot scenes, sad scenes, beautiful scenes, disturbing scenes, and pretty hilarious ones. 

The genderbent series is also complete, from Chain of Gold events all the way up to the end of Chain of Thorns. 

I’m sure a lot of you have already seen or read some of this (as you should), but I want to try and get others who haven’t to read too. This fic and this author, @thevagabondexpress, are what brought me into fandom again. Sure, TLH and TSC in general was the main thing, but I don’t think I would have had the confidence to continue to be here right now without the existence of this fanfic series. That means a lot of my own fics wouldn’t exist. 

So, read Madman’s Blues. Read on from there. And show the author some love. It doesn’t matter that it’s already complete - an author will always appreciate knowing they did something that matters to readers. 

[house-of-lovin]

legally binded - 2

Jenna Ortega x F!Reader

masterlist | series mast. ♣ prev part | next part

Chapter 2: Lakers, Headlines… New York?

Summary: After getting caught in some hot waters with the press, you are forced into an unexpected agreement with America's sweetheart, Jenna Ortega to save your career.

Warnings/Tags: dual pov, famous!reader, actress!reader, mentions of substances, intoxication, mature language, real people. (do not read if any of these make you uncomfortable)

(this is all fiction!)

Note: part 2 of legally binded! I hear yall and I see the comments! This will be a series, got a lot of ideas for this one. But of course, I am open to hearing what you guys think and want to see! A little bonding moment for R and Jenna 😮‍💨

Word Count: 6.3k+ (lol sorry, may have gone overboard!)

“So… what does this mean, exactly?” Jenna asks for both of you.

“We’re gonna make the two of you the talk of the town. And hopefully get people to back off on the allegations that Jenna is difficult to work with and that Y/N is entering her Justin Bieber phase — and not the good one.” Your PR agent, Liv, purses her lips.

Jenna can’t help the snort that leaves her lips, awkwardly coughing to hide it. But you catch it anyway, throwing her a glare.

“Difficult to work with huh?” You speak up — in faux interest. “Not hard to see why.”

This time Jenna is the one glaring at you. “You don’t even know me.”

“You don’t know me either.” You huff.

“Enough!” Jake yells. Anger steadily rose in the man’s bloodstream.

You and Jenna flinch at his loudness. Sliding down the chair, you feel ashamed again; ignoring Jenna’s piercing glare.

Liv is sighing but opts not to add fuel to the fire. “It’s going to take a few hours to get the paperwork and contract drafted —but once it’s done we’ll have it sent over to you. For now, get to know each other, I don’t know.”

You shoot Liv a scowl. She was making this already awkward situation so much worse.

She catches your look, sighing, “Just–pretend this is another job and you’re new castmates. Anything please. ” She rolls her eyes, already fed up with what disaster this morning has been.

“You can do that, right?” Liv crosses her arms, staring at you two in question.

“Yes.” Jenna mumbles.

“Mhmm.” You hum lazily, changing the subject. “Can we tell people? That this isn’t real?”

Liv glances at Jake and Sarah sharing a silent conversation. They nod at each other. “If they sign an NDA. Only family, your team and us. This cannot leave the room.”

You feel pale. You couldn’t even tell the people around you about this fake relationship without binding them to a contract? Suddenly, the situation starts to feel more real; the carpet of delusion being pulled from under you.

You’re standing up, pushing the chair back with a loud scrape that rings terribly against your ears. “I need some air.”

“You’re really leaving in the middle of a meeting?” Jenna questions with a snip, crossing her arms.

“Sorry your highness, I got better places to be. Liv you can send the contract to my assistant. Ortega, wish I could say it was a pleasure to meet you… but well.” You trail off, shrugging.

Liv and Jake are fuming red in the face at your words, but you were still hungover and the comedown was begging to wreak havoc – your irritation getting harder to restrain. 

Jenna’s face scrunches, offended. You walk away, not bothering to listen for a response.

“There’s no way I can work with her…” You catch it anyway.

●●●

“I mean can you believe what they’re asking me to do!” You pace up and down your living room.

“Oh come on, I don’t buy the allegations that she’s difficult, you know they love to tear women down when they get their come up.” Link reasons tapping on his phone.

“I mean how can this face be rude?” He holds up a picture of Jenna at the SAG awards and you furrow your brows because you don’t remember seeing her there — you might have been late.

You were just nominated anyway. So you pulled a Beyoncé and only showed up for your category.

“Maybe Jenna’s not so bad?”

“Quit it.”

It was now mid-afternoon and the battering Californian sun was shining bright above clear skies and through your floor-to-ceiling windows. You bought this house in the Palisades for the peace it provided you. Not too far from central L.A. but still tucked away enough for a moment of solitude with a life like yours.

It was your own version of a sanctuary – like a home should be. 

“Okay, that sounds crazy, I agree. But dude, you fucked up. Big time.” Your long-time friend Link said. 

You and Link grew up together and when you got your come up, best believe you took your best friend with you. You offered to help him out while he lives with you as you achieve your dreams but ever the stubborn guy, he refused. Only agreeing to move to Los Angeles with you if he works as your assistant to earn his keep.

He’s a good guy like that. 

Since then, he’s been by your side. Through every disappointment, bad news, great news, red carpets, and movie premieres. You couldn’t do this job without him. 

He’s like your brother.

“I know!” You groan, dropping to the couch. Why the hell did you let your designer choose these couches? They were stiffer than a plank of wood.

“Look at this article online, 2-time Grammy winner and Academy Award Nominee, Y/N L/N’s fall from grace? Sin City indeed! The actress blacks out at a Vegas strip club! Click here to see exclusive mugshots.”

“They’re selling my fucking mugshots?” You lift your head above the headrest horrified, watching Link sit across the room on a bar stool reading his phone. 

“I’m pretty sure they’re public domain.” He refutes.

Falling back, you groan louder – hiding your face behind your palms.

“I don’t see how you have a choice, buddy.” He sighs, placing his phone on the bar top. 

“There has to be another way. Why can’t I just run away? I’ll fly back home for a couple of weeks, and let all of this shit die down. It’s worked before.” 

“Yeah, I told Jake and Liv you’d say that.” He rolls his eyes, walking to you. “I don’t think you can run from this one, Y/N.”

The softness in his voice has you sighing in defeat. He’s right, you know he’s right. This wasn’t just some tiny mistake you can brush under the carpet like all the other ones. This was serious. 

You got arrested. For blacking out with someone who had drugs on them. In a strip club, no less.

What a mess.

Something like this could seriously hurt your career. You could lose roles, relationships, connections, brand deals – the blood, sweat, and tears you poured in; everything you worked so hard for – gone.

“I know… Doesn’t make me wanna do it more though,” You mumble, distantly staring at the high ceiling.

He chuckles, “I know bud. But this is what we signed up for, right?” 

You frown. It’s what we signed up for.

It’s a mantra that you have adopted in all your years as a working performer. It certainly wasn’t the most comforting and loving thing to say, but it works because it’s true and there’s no greater motivator than a slap in the face to reality. 

You much preferred tough love anyway.

“Right.” You mutter.

“Come on, I think Jenna’s manager just sent me the signed contract, they’re just waiting for your signature.” He walks off to his office. 

You close your eyes, letting the sun warm you up through the glass panes. A few moments pass until Link comes back out with a tablet and pen. “Sign here, under Jenna’s signature.”

She has pretty handwriting – you note as you sign the electronic document. 

Call it weird but you had a thing for people with neat handwriting, steady hands and all that. 

But then you remember who the professional signature belonged to and forced yourself to snap out of it.

“Did you even read it?” He arches a brow.

“That’s what lawyers are for.”

He scoffs, “Okay, superstar. It basically says what you and Jenna need to do. Public spottings at first, then dates, appearances at each other's events. Maybe posts on social media, but the idea is to be discreet – we can’t have it seem like we’re using this to scrub away the Vegas incident.”

“But that’s exactly what we’re doing,” You sigh.

“Yeah, but they don’t know that. And it’s your damn job to make sure they don’t ever find out either.”

You rub your forehead; a headache beginning to form. Not sure if it was from the hangover or from all this PR mess.

“Anways,” He takes the tablet out of your hands. “I’ll send these over to Liv. Now as for you. Go upstairs, take a shower because you smell horrendous and then put on what your stylist picked out.”

Wrinkling your nose, you ask, “What, why? I literally just got back, I already have to go out and show my face? The paparazzi will hound me.” 

“We have to beat the Vegas headline with a bigger story, so you need to be seen with Jenna ASAP. That means out for a late lunch at a well-known spot downtown. You have to act like the news doesn’t bother you – like you’re moving past it.”

“Who goes out for late lunch?” 

He sends you a pointed look. 

“I’ll be upstairs…” You mumble, dragging your feet as you ascend the steps.

●●●

You tap your fingers on the steering wheel, glancing up at the modest house through your sunglasses.

A mid-modern century house in Glendale. Not where you pictured her to live but whatever. Her front yard was bare but professionally trimmed. No signs of any plant life that made the space look a little… dull. The only signs of life in the house was the humble SUV that you assumed belonged to the young actress.

Your tapping grows impatient the longer you wait.

As if staring harder at the front door will make the actress come out faster. Another five agonizing minutes pass – you seriously consider pulling away to go home and sleep off this hangover but Link stood a good half-foot taller than you.

He’d lock your ass out of your own home. 

Eventually, the door opens and the short brunette walks down the driveway in confident strides. Dressed in jeans, combat boots and a cardigan; those headphones around her neck, again. Somehow, she looked consistently gothic and you pondered if she really was like her character in real life.

You see her scan your Mercedes-AMG GT3 for a moment before pulling the passenger door open; sliding into the cushy seats. “Nice car.”

You blink, “Thanks… you sure took your time though,”

You couldn’t stop the slight attitude that accompanied your words.

She gives you a sharp glance, “why didn’t you just ring the doorbell?”

“You had to unlock the gate to let me in, you knew I was waiting outside.” You huff, staring at her back. 

“Then would have waited in the living room if you had knocked. What difference does it make?” She shrugs.

“That’s not the poi–” You gruff but stop, inhaling a deep breath. The pounding in your skull was begging for you to cool down. 

“I think I much preferred waiting in the car… alone.” You whisper the last bit then shoot her a sarcastic glance; shifting the gear in reverse.

You don’t bother to check if she had her seatbelt on as you aggressively pull out her driveway; leaving skid marks on the pavement.

She jerks forward at the sudden movement. “Shit– a little warning next time?” She glares bracing herself on the dashboard.

“Hands off the leather,” You bite as you pull off her street and to the restaurant Link sent you the directions to. 

She scoffs. “My driveway!”

●●●

“Table for 2 under Ortega? Please follow me, can I be the first one to say how delighted we are that you two decided to dine here.” The host enthused a little too much.

“It’s our pleasure.” Jenna answers politely.

You plaster a tight-lipped smile keeping quiet; sliding a modest hand on Jenna’s back when he leads you past other patrons and to a secluded table – heads already turning in your direction. Jenna jumps, sending you a menacing glare and for a moment you feel slightly scared by the fire in her eyes – dropping your hand immediately. 

Okay, no touching. Got it.

“Here we are, the best seat in the house. We have complementary champagne on the table to start your evening. We’ll give you a few moments to get settled,” He sends a tight smile causing his wrinkles to show – definitely trying too hard but you’d never say no to free alcohol.

“Thank you,” You bid, pulling a chair out for Jenna.

She walks to claim the opposite chair, assuming you’re taking the one you pulled out. But she stares as you stand behind the open chair, awkwardly. Only then did she seem to realize that the seat was for her.

Raising her brows, she looked a little surprised but wordlessly and a bit awkwardly (she sends a tight-lipped smile) sits over to the chair allowing you to push it in for her, before taking your own seat across.

The first thing you grab is the bottle of champagne and the flute. 

You miss Jenna’s tracking eyes as you pour a hefty glass. “Is that really the best thing for you to have, especially after last night? Also, it’s like 4 PM.”

“I didn’t know you were the alcohol police and it’s 8 PM somewhere.” You take big gulps of the champagne, savouring the way it burned but also felt cool on the way down.

“Trust me, I’m not. But my ass is on the line here too and there are people watching.” She grits out the last part, signalling with her eyes. You glance up catching two girls from another table with their phones up, no doubt taking pictures and recording you and Jenna. 

Looking away, you place the glass flute down, sitting back in your seat with a slump. “Fine…”

“When are you going to take this seriously?” She whispers, tone: sharp.

“I am taking this seriously,” You fight to keep your face impassive knowing there are eyes on you both. 

“No, you’re not. You couldn’t even sit through the meeting this morning and now you’re acting like a child. Might I remind you, we’re in this mess because of you.”

You clench your jaw, trying your hardest not to blow up in this fine establishment. 

“I’m the reaso—“

“Are we ready to order?” The waitress cuts in.

“Yes, we are.” Jenna turns to her with that large, sweet smile that sells millions.

●●●

‘New Gal-Pals in Hollywood, Y/N L/N and Jenna Ortega spotted out for lunch’

It was now the following day after your ‘lunch date’ with Jenna and you wish to say it only got better as time went on but that would be a lie. You two did not get along – at all. How was it possible for your management to find the one person on this planet that you just couldn’t get along with. 

You know difficult, you can handle difficult. You’ve worked with the likes of Shia Lebeouf, Gweneth Paltrow, Michael Bay… just to name a few. You’ve had your fair share of difficult colleagues.

But this girl? She’s something else. 

“Gal pals? Really?” Your nose scrunches in distaste.

“No wait, this one’s better! Wednesday star Jenna Ortega supports new bestie, Y/N L/N amid Vegas arrest.”

“Stop.” But Link’s loud laughter overpowers you.

“Oh! We got one that’s different, Trouble-maker, A-lister, Y/N L/N, will drag down rising-star Jenna Ortega!”

“Okay, that’s just bullshit.” You pique up.

“Rising star?” Jenna voices in disdain.

“Enough!” Liv’s voice echoes from your laptop speaker. “This isn’t the headline we wanted.”

You roll your eyes, scanning the candid photo of you and Jenna sitting at the restaurant.

The images look tame enough and can definitely be interpreted as just two friends out for a bite. News outlets don’t buy it, but the internet is already freaking out; spewing out unsolicited opinions on this new pairing. Some think you two are just friends, some think it’s a date, others think it’s for a movie role.

“I thought I did a good job,” Jenna speaks up on the other line of the Facetime call. 

“Clearly not…” You mumble, but she catches it anyway, rolling her eyes. 

“We need to up the ante, this is not good enough.” Liv sighs and you can hear the trepidation through the call.

“Like what?”

“There’s a Lakers game tonight and you two are making your first official appearance.” She grins with mischief.

“Lakers?” Jenna rouses, sounding excited.

“How would they interpret that differently than before?” Shaking your head.

“I got a plan already, darling. I have a guy in TMZ who’s going to break the first official headline that you two are in the ‘getting to know each other’ stage. Which is where you two come in… after the game headlines of your guys’ date night will be the number one trending topic.” She explains, eyes lighting up in excitement.

Liv loves to lay out her plans to whoever was willing to listen — you’re already tuning her out.

You are sure her plan is genius like she says it is.

“Are they versing someone decent, at least?” You ask tiredly. When were you going to get some time to yourself?

“Celtics.”

“I’m in.”

●●●

“Do you really have to wear sunglasses indoors? Everyone knows we’re here.” Jenna whispers from beside you.

“It’s part of the look.” You retort, sliding down the foldable chair. Why are courtside seats so uncomfortable for all the money I’m paying?

“What look.”

“We got two stars in the Lakers house tonight! Everyone, please give a warm welcome to Y/N L/N and Jenna Ortega!”’ The announcer booms through the stadium speakers. 

Looking up at the jumbotron, you and Jenna are plastered big and bright on the screen. You flash a dazzling smile and force your body to untense – ignoring Jenna’s quip.

You embrace the loud cheers and applauds, waving and sending the camera that dazzling smile you have mastered. Jenna copies your movements.

Eventually, the camera pans away from you two and you finally feel like you can breathe again. 

“God, I think my eardrums ruptured.” She complains, clutching her earring clad-ears painfully.

You laugh, “Oh come on, you don’t have people shouting for your attention at you at every turn?”

She frowns, shaking her head, “Not at this level… I like to think I still have some anonymity.”

Snorting, you say, “Yeah well, just wait. That’ll all be gone — so enjoy it while you can.” 

You don’t see her frown deepen because you spot a familiar face. “Look who’s in the house!”

“Hey!” You stand briskly. Lebron James comes barreling over in large steps; greeting you with a hug and a pat on the back. 

“Feeling ready for tonight?” You ask, smiling up at the athlete. Being a big name in Hollywood definitely came with nice perks like knowing world-renowned athletes.

As much as you complain about your life – this is certainly a perk you can’t deny.

“You know it! We’re gonna mop the floors with your lil Celtics team.” He smirks making you laugh.

“Okay, save the trash-talking for the court... This is Jenna by the way.” You move to the side to reveal Jenna sitting; watching the two of you with a flabbergasted look on her face. 

“Nice to meet you, Jenna. My kids loved Wednesday, I think my daughter might dress up as you this Halloween.” He jokes; shaking her hand. 

It was quite an amusing sight to see Jenna crane her neck to meet the basketball player’s eyes. And you really tried your hardest not to snort when her tiny hands slide into his gigantic palms – her upper arm practically disappearing in his grasp.

They continue talking for a few more moments before the basketball player eventually bids his goodbye to continue warming up. 

“You’re friends with Lebron James?” She asked in disbelief when you sit back down.

“Yeah, is that surprising?” You arch a brow.

“Yes?” She asks like you were stupid for even asking.

You chuckle. “Well, now you know.” 

“Also… a Celtics fan, really? That’s just disgraceful.” She shakes her head.

You scrunch your face in faux annoyance, puffing your chest proudly, “Hell yeah the Celtics! We’re gonna wipe the court with your little Lakers in their own house.” 

“Don’t let people hear you say that, you’ll be stoned,” She laughs heartily. 

For a brief moment, you watch as she shakes in laughter at her own joke – unable to fight the infectiousness of her laugh. Her bangs shake with her movements as she attempts to hide her smile behind her hand.

Were you guys getting along? Nah, impossible. 

“I’ll just use you as a shield.”

“I’m like five-foot, I don’t think I’ll be much help.” She snorts. 

“Pocket-sized shield – makes travelling easier.” You shrug, smirking. 

She shoots you a side-eye but you see the smirk she tries to hide from you. 

Eventually, the national anthem is sung and tip-off begins. You’d be lying if you said you weren’t enjoying yourself right now. After the weekend disaster in Vegas, all you wanted to do was sleep away your fuck-ups. But this… isn’t so bad. 

Jenna seems to have loosened up and allowed herself to enjoy the game.

You cheer enthusiastically when the Celtics go on a 12-0 run in the fourth quarter. 

The score is 94 - 90, with the Lakers in the lead. You were standing now, your concession drinks and snacks forgotten under your chair. The energy in the stadium is infectious as everyone cheers for their respective teams.

“This is what I’m talking about, now we got a game!” You clap loudly, yelling.

“$100 Lakers win this one.” The sweet voice shouts over the crowd.

You turn, grinning. “That’s it? $1000, Celtics win.” 

The quiet contemplation is burning bright in her eyes, but eventually, she gives in extending her hand. “You’re on.”

Somehow, your grin stretches wider when she slides her hand in yours to seal the deal. “I can’t wait to be a $1000 richer.”

“In your dreams,” she clicks her tongue, focusing on the court.

“Come on ref, that was a foul!” She shouts at the checkered-shirt man as he runs past you.

She’s not looking at you but you find yourself unable to look away from her. 

Granted, you barely knew anything about Jenna before meeting her yesterday. But you think you like this laid-back version of her more than the one you met at first.

A whistle-blowing breaks your staring before it becomes too obvious.

Eventually, the game goes into overtime with the score being 104 - 104 when the Lakers gets both free throws in. You’re practically shaking in excitement as you watch from courtside.

You are bent over, hands on your knees like a soccer mom watching their kid get a penalty kick. You miss Jenna snapping a photo of the court with you bent over in the corner of the picture.

“Come on, Tatum!” You shout, a vein on your forehead protruding. 

“Did you say a $1000 richer?” She mocks, using your words against you.

“Don’t go on a victory lap yet,” You stand as the last time-out is called, “The score’s even and there’s still 5 seconds on the clock. It’s anybody's game right now.”

When the whistle blows signalling time-out is over, you are tense again. Jenna seems to share your sentiments as she absentmindedly grabs your jacket when the Celtics shooting guard walks behind the line to inbound the ball.

Anticipation getting the best of her.

You ignore the touch – unsure if you wanted to pull away or never move your arm again.

“Shit!” You yell when someone on the Lakers intercepts the Celtics attempt to inbound — sloppily passing it to another player in gold and purple. 

3 seconds remaining on the clock and a fast-break on the Lakers side ensues; green jerseys struggling to keep up.

“Schroder tips the Celtics inbound and manages to pass it off to Thompson, to James! James with a hail mary from half-court with 2 seconds, will he make it!” The announcer exclaims.

It was like the movies when everything goes silent and somehow you see everything in slow motion. You watch as the ball spins high above in the air with the powerful throw from the Laker’s power forward. The only thing you feel is Jenna’s fist gripping your arm, bunching the jacket in her hands. 

You unconsciously lean into her; the intensity of the room bouncing off you. 

The ball continues to spin until it amazingly flies through the basket with a satisfying swoosh and the buzzer rings loudly.

The crowd explodes – bursting into loud cheers. 

“Holy shit!” Jenna jumps, cheering.

“No fucking way.” You groan.

You feel her grab your shoulders to face her, still jumping up and down; a large smile on her face. You find yourself matching her grin despite your team not winning. 

Nodding in defeat, you admit, “Okay, okay… that was a pretty great game.”

“Great?” She shakes you like a rag doll, “That was the best game I’ve ever seen!” 

“Are you turning into a basketball fan, Miss Ortega?” You tease as she pulls away from you.

Still with a grin, she says, “Never… Football will always have my heart.”

“I didn’t peg you for an NFL fan but I guess I’ve heard stranger things.” You tease as she rolls her eyes.

“Soccer, Y/N.”

“Why didn’t you just call it the proper name then?”

“We are not starting this.” She holds a hand up, turning to sit back in her seat. The high of winning the bet, dwindling away.

●●●

“This is me…” Jenna says into the quiet night air. 

You shifted on your feet as you stood by your car. The night had been an unexpected…. success. After the game, you two made sure to stick around to chat and take pictures with fans in the crowd. 

The more eyes that saw you two together, the better. 

“Um… this was nice, I guess.” You mumble, feeling a bit awkward now that it was just you and her. 

She blinks up at you, surprised by your admission. “Uh – yeah, this wasn’t bad. Surprising, but not bad.” 

A small smile creeps on your face, “Okay, well I guess I’ll see you later… or whenever our managers say we need to be seen together again.” 

She laughs, nodding, “Yeah…”

A bright flash from your peripheral has you blinking, unfocused. “What the–”

“Paps…” She sighs. “Kiss my cheek.”

“What?” You asked bewildered.

She sends you a pointed look, turning her back from the direction of the flash so they couldn’t see her face. “Kiss my cheek, they’ll take a picture and then they’ll know we’re not just gal pals.”

Jenna is rolling her eyes but you’re still stuck in your spot. “Y/N.”

Snapping out of your thoughts, you clear your throat, “Are you sure? I don’t want to make you uncomfortable.”

Something indecipherable shines in her eyes, but it disappears as she blinks, “You’re not asking for my hand in marriage, Y/N. Just kiss my cheek.”

Blushing, you lean down. Shyly placing your lips on her soft-dimpled cheek – she leans into the contact, placing a hand on your neck. Immediately, a flurry of bright flashes and sounds of clicking interrupt the moment. 

“Goodnight, Jenna.” You say softly once you pulled away; ignoring the goosebumps that rose on your skin.

“Goodnight.” She takes a moment to look at you before walking to unlock her gate.

You wait until she opens the metal door; not missing the kind eyes she shoots you as she shuts the gate. Only once Jenna’s out of your view did you let out a deep sigh, turning around.

“Y/N! Over here! Did you just kiss Jenna Ortega? What about the singer you were with in Vegas? Are you two over?”

You didn’t want to give the paparazzi lurking on her street more reason to stay, so you keep your head down ignoring their shouting and slip into your car.

●●●

“How was it?” Her sister’s voice can be heard on her phone. 

“Awful – she’s a menace, Mia.” Jenna replies as she opens her fridge, looking for a mid-afternoon snack. 

It was now Sunday afternoon and as predicted – you and Jenna are the top headline of every major news outlet in America. 

“Did you tell her that you loved her in Little Women?” 

“What? No, of course not! I’m not gonna tell her that.”

“Why not? You watched that movie like five times when it came out.” Her sister reminds.

“Shut up, Mia.”

“Okay, anyways…” She trails off, laughing. “I saw the pictures. You’re smiling pretty wide with her. Also the kiss on the cheek when she was dropping you off? Chef’s kiss. Just perfect.”

Jenna rolls her eyes, “It’s all part of the act. Of course, I look happy.”

“There’s videos of you jumping on her. I can barely scroll through my Twitter feed without seeing an edit of you two at the game.”

“Stop. I don’t want to talk about her anymore.” Jenna snaps.

“Okay, okay…” Mia laughs and Jenna can picture her raising her hands in surrender. “Let’s talk about New York, are you excited?’

Jenna lets out a repressed sigh. With all of this PR mess with you, she hasn’t had time to think about how busy her schedule is about to be. The Scream VI premiere and SNL is inching closer and the Coachella native is feeling the familiar phantoms of anxiety rumbling in her chest. 

“Yeah, of course, I am. It’s SNL…”

“But?” Aliyah, her younger sister’s voice comes out of nowhere.

“But it’s SNL!” Jenna exclaims, “It’s a big deal! What if… what if I fuck up? Or I break character?”

“Okay… let’s take a deep breath,” Mia speaks up. She recognizes her sister’s looming anxiety and knew she had to act before the young actress sends herself into a panic. “You will kill it, like you always do and you won’t mess up. It’s okay to be a little nervous.

“Right, right.” Jenna agrees but the weighted pressure in her chest was still to creeping in.

Mia hums over the line unconvinced, “Listen, the whole family is flying in before your premiere. So don’t worry, we’ll be there, cheering you on!” 

Jenna can’t fight the smile that creeps up on her face. The thought of her family being there on one of the most important nights of her career is all she needs. They always had her back, picking her up when she felt like she couldn’t do it anymore. “Thanks, guys. I really appreciate that.”

●●●

“You want me to fly to New York, to what– be her personal cheerleader?” You dead-pan, watching as Link frantically throws clothes and shoes into a suitcase. 

It’s been about a week since the Lakers and Celtics game and news of you and Jenna’s night out in town are still abuzz. The two of you made a couple more subtle appearances over the last couple of days and the media is eating it up shamelessly. Pictures of you and the star are plastered on the front pages; be it grabbing coffee or grocery shopping or walking your dog at the park.

Now, you couldn’t even step outside without someone hurling Jenna’s name at you.

But you couldn’t lie. It was nice to have some company while you run your errands. Only yours though — you hated when you had to do hers. Jenna always thought too hard about which cereal to get, like she’s ever home to eat it.

‘New budding romance in Hollywood? Do we have a new power couple on the rise with Y/N L/N and Jenna Ortega? These two seem to be getting to know each other well… click here to read more’ 

Was the first thing you read when you turned on your phone this morning. 

Of course, it’s never that easy because there are still a handful of nobodies sending hateful messages about your criminal escapades – not everyone was convinced.

Some well-known people on social media – people you personally know are adding fuel to the fire; engaging in discourses of you and Jenna and if you are dragging her down just by being associated with you.

Fake-ass motherfuckers.

“Yes, I think those are the exact words Jake and Liv put in their texts, actually.” He reaches for his phone to read over the message; mocking you. 

“Stop, Link…” You run a hand on your face, “Tell them I’m not going. I have better things to do, Coachella is right around the corner and I literally have a song I need to send to my producer.”

He watches as you childishly cross your arms, scowling. 

If you weren’t his best friend he would’ve said goodbye to the Hollywood life – too rich for his blood. Link wasn’t sure how he still put up with your attitude after all these years. Could you have said those words any more snobbishly?

“Are you done?”

“No.”

“Well you don’t have a damn choice. Now, take a shower – Marcus will be here in an hour to drive us to LAX. And you can record in New York, no one said you had to be attached to Jenna’s hip.”

“What if I don’t want to.” You stand your ground. 

“Don’t do this today, Y/N.” He sighs. 

For a few moments, you hold your ground; contemplating if you should dig a hole and barricade yourself – metaphorically, of course. But never say never. 

Link raises a challenging brow – daring you to try him today. 

Wow, someone must have woken up on the wrong side of the bed…

Knowing what that look meant, you knew when to pick your battles and accepted the loss, trudging over to the master bathroom but not before slamming the door behind you.

“Don’t be slamming doors ‘round here! I don’t care if the house is under your name.” He shouts from the other side. 

“Fuck off!” You yell back, yanking your shirt off as the water turns hot.

He is such a dad.

–

“What are you doing here?”

“Hi to you too, Jenna. How was your day? Mine was great, the flight was a bit bumpy but I can handle a ‘lil turbulence. Thanks for asking.” You reply, ignoring the furrow in her brow hidden behind the silky fringe. 

You wonder what conditioner she uses to get her hair looking that soft.

“Y/N…” Jenna sighs, walking past you to enter your hotel suite. Walking into the living room to place her shoulder bag on the coffee table then she turns to face you, crossing her arms still waiting for an answer. “I’m serious, why are you in New York.”

You lean against a wooden panel, crossing your arms as well. “Didn’t your team tell you?”

Her frown deepens, patience thinning the longer you beat around the bush. “Obviously not or I wouldn’t be here.”

“Okay relax…” You warn not appreciating her tone. You literally just landed an hour ago and it’s almost midnight East Coast time. The timezone switch is fucking with you and her attitude is the last thing you need. 

“Don’t tell me to relax.” She snaps. The young actress hated those words, it always made her more riled up.

You scoff trying your hardest not to snap back but controlling your anger has never been your strong suit. “Why do you think I’m here? Liv told me I had to show face for your premiere and SNL episode. Be your cheerleader or some shit.”

She drops her arms, frown still etched on her soft face. What? Ignore that.

“Shit, I think Sarah might’ve mentioned it but I was just so busy with rehearsal and fittings with Enrique that I didn’t see.” Jenna sighs, rubbing her forehead.

For the first time since she barged into your room – you take a moment to scan her. Her face is bare and makeup free but you can see the dark smudges from her eyeliner earlier today just under the lashline. She was dressed in a large sweater and mismatched sweatpants; the sleeves are so long it covers half her hands and her short wavy locks tied into a messy low bun.

Her clothes practically engulfed her tiny stature. You figure this is a pretty rare sight that most people aren’t privy to and suddenly you’re unsure as to why it’s so hard to look away. 

“I didn’t mean to snap… I’m sorry.” She says quietly, looking at you like she was genuinely apologetic. 

“It’s fine…” You shrug and pushed off the wall to sit on the couch. Everyone has their days, you thought.

“I didn’t mean to ambush you. I really thought you knew I’d be here.” You turn on the TV, not being to stand the silence in the large room.

Jenna sits down beside you, tucking her feet against her chest. When did she take off her shoes? “It’s not your fault.”

The sigh she lets out is heavy and something tells you there’s some meaning behind it too. But you didn’t feel like it was your business so you zip it and continue watching the TV drone on about a program you don’t care about. 

“I saw clips of your SNL promo… I thought it was hilarious – you were great and that reporter outfit? So cool.” You change the subject. It gets her to smile as her dimples poke out, a little shy now. 

“It’s so cringy.” She covers her face. 

“Awh, nah… the internet loved it.” You laugh, a little amused that the actress was all flushed by a single compliment. 

Call it big-headed, call it ego, call it whatever you want but you personally relished it when people fawned over you. 

“Of course they did. They’re the whole reason for the meme.” She rolls her eyes after dropping her hands but she still had a toothy smile. 

“I bet that dance follows you everywhere…” 

“Every. Fucking. Day.” She says then raises a brow at you, “How do you know about the dance, though?’

You send her an affronted look, “I’m not a grandmother, Jenna. I know what’s hip with the kids.”

She snorts, “You’re an idiot – I just mean, I didn’t think you were on TikTok like that with a schedule like yours. Also, that app is toxic.”

“Every social media app can be toxic.” You quip, “But get off your high horse, your majesty. I literally just saw a couple of edits on Twitter of it.”

“Uh huh…” She hums, unconvinced, if the side glance she throws you was any indication. “But yeah the writers wanted to do a bit with Wednesday and this is what we came up with.”

“Well, I think it’s genius… from a business standpoint.” You offer up, nudging her shoulder then turning back to the TV.

You miss Jenna’s bothered frown. “Business standpoint?”

“Yeah,” You say off-handedly, “It’s smart, good for you.”

“Are most things a ‘business standpoint’ for you?” She asks, genuinely curious about what you could mean.

“Hmm. I guess I never thought of it like that but now that I’m saying it out loud, yeah, kinda.” You shrug, thinking about it. 

Most of the interactions in Hollywood that you have had are based on transactions and is usually for your own self-interest.

“...That’s kinda sad.” She says getting you to turn.

“What does that mean?” You frown.

“I’m just saying… there’s more to this industry than business deals and brand offers.” This time Jenna offers up a thought but it sounds a bit judgemental to you, shrugging.

You’re furrowing your brows, sitting up straight. “Look, you don’t even know me. Just forget what I said.”

But the laugh she lets out grinds your gears in the most unpleasant way.

Jenna holds up her hands in surrender but it feels mocking. “Clearly…” She emphasizes. “But I’m just saying, there’s no need to get all defensive.”

“Okay, I don’t know what kind of shit you were dealing with today but don’t take it out on me. Don’t come to my room talking about things you know nothing about.” You glower.

She matches your frown, standing. “It kinda sounds like you’re the one dealing with something, actually.”

“I think you should leave.” Your glare turns sharp and cold, standing too.

“Already on my way out.” She scoffed, snatching her bag aggressively off the coffee table then turns to walk to the front door. 

You follow to make sure the door hits her on the way out but she stops abruptly by the hall causing you to trip on your own feet to not tumble over her. 

“I think you should go back to L.A.” She glares up at you, tightly clutching her shoulder bag.

The laugh you let out is humourless, stepping back to create space between you and the other actress. “And get my ass handed to me by Jake, Liv and Sarah? They’re like four horsemen of the apocalypse – just searching for their last member. No thanks. You got a problem with me here? You deal with it.”

She clenches her jaw, “Done. Leave it to me.” Then turns and leaves making sure to slam the door shut. 

Those hotel doors weigh a fuck ton, how did she do that? And what did she mean leave it to me?

“Can I come out now?” Link peeks his head out from the adjoining room; fear present on his features.

●●●

:)

-

tagging who comment so far:

@alexkolax @ladey @jjsmaybank20 @werewoofrobinbuckley

[trashogram]

i’m gonna hop on the stolas hate train with you for a second. Do you know what i feel like he doesn’t get enough lashings for? His inability to see things from Blitzo’s point of view.

I’m sorry but despite being horrendously bad he is simultaneously one of most self absorbed characters ever. If he really loved Blitz to an up to par standard he’d be able to understand the HUGE power imbalance between them regardless of their feelings or time spent together. (might be a spoiler but i feel like you’ve seen it by now) but Blitz out burst to Stolas was super justified , i wouldn’t have done it personally, but i see where he’s coming from.

That moment itself was a rare vulnerable!blitz moment that stolas could’ve used to mend their relationship but instead he made it about Him AGAIN I CANT DO THIS😭😭😭 THEY SUCKKKK GOOD LORDD

I’m here to conduct this hate train, you’re more than welcome to come aboard.

Stolas has the characteristics of a Covert Narcissist (obviously he’s fictional, I can’t diagnose a fictional character or real person, but let’s tally it up shall we?):

Lack of Empathy — You hit that one

Sense of Entitlement — he thinks he’s entitled to Blitzø’s time and body, as well as Octavia’s unending patience and understanding when he fucks up and fucks around on her and their family)

Taking advantage of others for personal gain — the whole deal with the fuckdamn Grimoire

Hyper-focusing on fantasies of grandeur — Stolas is King Delusion thinking his obsession with Blitzø is at all equivalent to love, or even liking someone. He also deludes himself into thinking he knows his own child but he ignores her wants when she literally runs away from him on two separate occasions bc he’s not fucking listening to her.

Exhibit passive-aggressive behavior, arrogance, or subtle superiority — Ppl don’t clock this as much as they should but I’ve noticed and gagged at his belittling “pet names” for Blitzø (impish little plaything, itty bitty imp) and how when Moxxie and Millie try to speak to him, Stolas either treats them with disdain/like peasants or doesn’t even look at them when they speak! Not even bringing up how he uses his own imp staff as stress-relieving toys.

Highly sensitive to criticism — Can’t take being called out, has to cry and run away from the truth that Blitzø (and Stella and Octavia) are spitting

Victim Mentality — it’s everyone else in this damn bird’s life that’s to blame instead of himself. “I think so highly of you, I didn’t realize you thought so low of me.”

Fuck. You. Stolas.

I’m sorry this is a wild rant but to be fair it is the Stolas Hate Train (SHT, we should implement an I in there). Obviously I don’t hate his fans. Like what you like. Please. However, I may have some concerns over how young HB fans can get and how they don’t truly see how terribly this character is written because they accept the framing of Stolas as the poor victim in this situation at face value and don’t see it for what it really is, but I’m not their parents. And hopefully the younger audience will grow up and also think “ew”. At the very least.

I would like to know if the HB writers, and her majesty Vivienne Medrano, realize that they’re framing the Abuser in this situation as the victim but have dug this hole so deep that they just have to keep digging bc there’s no going back or if they genuinely think their targeted audience of adults don’t see through this or haven’t had to deal with abusive relationships themselves.

[nivenus]

The thing about Joker 2's mutual rejection of the first film's fandom is it seemed perfectly clear to me when I finally watched the first film that Todd Phillips held nothing but contempt for Arthur Fleck.

He wasn't an anti-hero or tragic villain in Phillips' eyes: he was a pathetic sicko.

The hysteria (which I participated in) about whether the film romanticized lonely angry men completely missed the point, as did fans of the film that claimed it was a sympathetic portrayal of mental illness or economic inequality: the film fit neither narrative.

Instead, Joker is a deeply cynical, almost voyeuristic film about watching someone who's already beneath contempt following an almost inevitable spiral into mindless violence, which the mob eats up because they're dumb sheeple.

Arthur isn't portrayed with empathy: we don't get a sense for who he is besides "sad" & "unhinged."* He's clearly creepy & unsettling even before he turns violent and the movie makes a point that his perspective isn't trustworthy. His fictional condition is used to make him inhuman, not relatable.

The same is true of the film's alleged social criticism about inequality and mental health treatment: the film portrays those who are angry at the system as, at best, delusional, and at worst nihilistic. Sure, Thomas Wayne is an asshole but he's also normal.** Neither Arthur nor his fans are.

The closest the film has to a point of view is, IMO, Murray Franklin, the Johnny Carson like night show host who Arthur murders in the final act. He's treated as a voice of reason and his derisive rejection of Arthur is treated as "calling it like he sees it:" Arthur is a terrible comedian.

Likewise, though this exchange has become memetic as a way of talking truth to power, I think it's perfectly clear in context Murray's shock and dismay is supposed to be relatable while Arthur's admission to enjoying killing is supposed to be monstrous.

The problem is... the movie is about Arthur & so the fact that he's such a vapid, uninteresting character means the film is also very hollow. Not only does it have little to say about mental illness or inequality but it also doesn't have anything interesting to say about violent psychopaths.

So it's easy to see why people projected messages on to it the film doesn't actually support: because there's nothing actually going on underneath the surface, for all its obvious aspirations to "high cinema."

The movie gets by entirely on its trappings: it looks and feels like a 1970s Scorsese film and even if you haven't seen Taxi Driver or The King of Comedy that lends it a uniqueness that makes it stand out.

But scratch below that and there's nothing there.

Ultimately, I'll admit to a certain schadenfreude with the second film bombing so terribly, because it honestly feels like what Todd Phillips' efforts deserve: a film where the only real ideas it had were that the mentally ill are contemptible and empathy is for the stupid.

*Also can we talk about the homophobic trappings of Phoenix's performance? I can't be the only one who noticed the effeminate mannerisms and gay lilt Phoenix and Phillips gave Arthur nor the way his obsession at Murray Franklin reads as homoerotic.

This, along with what I've read of Harley's (excuse me, "Lee's") portrayal in Folie a Deux gives me no sense that Phillips' contempt for Arthur has less to do with violent masculinity rather than a general abhorrence of the neurodivergent and those outside a straight, white male neurotypical POV.

**(Also worth pointing out that the central villainy of Wayne, that he had an affair with Arthur's mother and possibly fathered him, is revealed to be quite possibly all a delusion by said mother and not at all real.)

[inbarfink]

It’s so funny how many fictional characters have Rogues Galleries and/or supporting casts who are like, darker reflections of themselves. Like they're [Main Character] but worse. Y'know, it’s good for the Themes. But meanwhile Zim is already so Baseline Terrible that instead he’s surrounded with characters who reflect him by being better versions of himself. "Zim but less awful"

Like, Dib is Zim but trying to stop Space Imperialism rather than contributing to it. Tak is Zim but hypercompetent. And Skoodge is Zim if Zim lacked his most defining trait and most crippling flaw - his self-deluded ego.

Skoodge and Zim seem to be the shortest Irkens to have been ever reached the Invader rank - they both must’ve been highly capable to make it through the Irken Societal Bias against the short. But of the two of them, only Skoodge is grounded enough to actually demonstrate it. While Zim’s ego and all that stern from it - the delusions, the absolute lack of threat-assessment, the inability to think ahead - makes him an incompetent bumbler despite all of skills.

On the other hand, Skoodge is the most competent Invader actually on the Empire’s payroll (Tak might be more competent but she’s actually less of a Real Invader then Zim is, so…). And yet… this lack of ego also makes him the Empire’s (and sometimes Zim’s) punching bag despite all of his skills. 

And, like, Skoodge isn't necessarily insecure. Especially right after his successful conquest of Blorch, he seems to have, like, a reasonable amount of healthy self-confidence you'd expect from someone who has achieved what he did.

He's just not as selfishly self-obsessed and absolutely disconnected from reality like Zim is. He is actually capable of distinguishing between the Empire's will and his own desires, he is capable of reasonably asserting threats, he does actually notice when he is being led into an Obvious Death Trap.

Even if the Irken culture of absolute obedience means he still has to go along with it.

Zim might be, you know, incapable of consciously recognizing that the Tallests hate him.... but his ego and his disconnect from reality actually allows him to put his own desires and his self-preservation instinct before the express orders of the Tallests by just... forgetting that they happened.

When I talk about the idea that Zim has all the traits the Irken Empire values (minus height) just twisted to unreasonable extremes - that’s the kind of thing I’m talking about. To survive in the Irken Empire you need to have some amount of ego and self confidence and self-interest. Being just a loyal vessel of the Empire

Just marks you as someone that can be easily exploited. No matter your other skills. Zim’s attitude is far too much on the other extreme - but it is not alien to Irken society at all. You're gonna need it to survive.

Skoodge is also a nice reminder how truly futile Zim’s desire for approval from the Tallests really is. Even if he was somewhat capable of recognizing his own flaws, even if he was capable of conquering Earth, even if he could wow everyone in the Empire with the greatest Invasion in known history - the only thing that will change is that instead of being hated and punished for being the Worst Thing to Ever Happen to the Empire he’d just be hated and punished for being short. 

[angelic-dew]

yandere kokushibo headcannons !

✧༉‧₊˚୨ 📎 ୧・author's note; ooooo~ I haven't made a banner in so long- I hope this came out decent lol

✧༉‧₊˚୨ 👁 ୧・request :: " Hiiii :) Idk if you take requests for this fandom but please do either Kokushibo or Inosuke yan hcs please! btw love your work <33 "

✧༉‧₊˚୨ 🍙 ୧・pairing; Yandere ! Kokushibo x G/N reader ( with you/your pronouns.)

✧༉‧₊˚୨✖୧・trigger warnings; yandere behavior (obviously), possessive nature, stalking, kidnapping, mentions of human flesh/organs, cannibalism, murderous tendencies and motives, delusions, eye puns, jealousy, small mentions of sexual intercourse but not detailed, grammatical errors and descriptions of gore. if you are sensitive towards this content, please dni for it will be mentioned.

⚝. Just a reminder I don't tolerate nor do I encourage the following topics in reality; I like keeping it strictly to fiction.

ॄ⿻🍙 | Oh my, this was certainly a new feeling, wasn't it? it's been centuries since he's ever felt this way; so passionate, so needy, his eyes filled with pure desire and want for his precious angel. In fact, he recalls never ever feeling this sort of emotion even in his human life, he has never felt this way; surely, this feeling he was getting had a reasonable answer, right?

ॄ⿻👁 | Whenever he saw you passing by from within the shadows, the heat suddenly rises to his face and creates such an adorable, faint yet visible blush to the naked eye which tints his pale cheeks rather nicely. It could've just been particularly hot out! that's the explanation. Or maybe how his heart tends to skip a beat every now and then, maybe even getting a playful swarm of butterflies to cheerfully waltz around in his stomach each time he catches a mere glimpse of your angelic, seraphic smile. He didn't know what to make of himself in those moments indeed. It was probably due to the fact he hasn't been feasting enough! That's a reasonable explanation.

ॄ⿻🍙 | Still! the demon could not bring himself to come to reasonable terms with all of this pandemonium brewing within him. The eccentric, yet painstaking feeling of utter lust coursing through his veins at each passing moment of each passing day. It was beyond repulsive towards him, disgusting, terrible. However, as much as he attempted to fight the urge within he was weak. Pitiful. Even deficient in his trials to forget about you. You were a necessary staple in his life.

ॄ⿻👁 | He needed more of you! just a small glance was worth a hundred years off his immortality and so it would be worth it. Just to see your majestic, soft locks of hair gently sway in the wind as your nose crinkled up like paper from your adorable, genuine smile; it was truly, a sight for sore eyes and indeed a sight that should only be put on display for him and for him only.

ॄ⿻🍙 | He would stalk you, if it wasn't obvious by now, always keeping a close but distant eye(s) away from you during the periods when the luminescent moon would shine the brightest in the ebony, galactic ether. Watching your motionless body rest ever so peacefully, observing your physique for all your features. Your curves to your smallest noticeable features. Even counting your breathing patterns by the second as you lay there, unaware but peaceful.

ॄ⿻👁 | Heavenly, was the only word to describe your appearance to Kokushibo. Your looks were unmatched by another, everything about you was absolutely divine and exquisite. Your skin was so perfect, your hair was always the most gorgeous sight to intake, your soft locks always complimented your body nicely; your eyes as well, they were truly breath-taking. You were just an angel sent from heaven, for him.

ॄ⿻🍙 | Kokushibo would also take it upon himself to gain entail on your interests, hobbies and routine, but of course, in doing that, there will always be an obstacle to overcome. The worst part per se. There's always those disgusting, foul humans that try to talk and get close to his angel, do they even know they're infecting you with their filthy nature? Those mortals didn't even know the upper rank 1 placed his eyes on you first, his precious, and he won't let anything be a problem when it comes to you. He can't afford for it to happen.

ॄ⿻👁 | Although Kokushibo looks solemn through it all, his blood is at boiling levels your mind would not be able to comprehend. If looks could kill, daggers would be piercing those repulsive creatures left, right and centre by now. However, he must refrain from taking action at that point in time, patience is key. Especially in daylight where he watches from the shadows, it makes him feel tedious when he sees those interactions between his angel and those pesky parasites.

ॄ⿻🍙 | So for inraging the upper moon 1, he takes matters into his own hands and prepares a full night of torture for his most unfortunate victims who cross paths with you. He loves to use his bare nails to ever so slowly create gashes within the poor human's flesh before tearing a limb off clean from its socket. Kokushibo absolutely adores the screams and cries of pure agony they make from the immense torture but that's only the beginning, for the fortunate victims.

ॄ⿻👁 | I do like to imagine he has performed a 'surgery' on one of his most pestilent 'patients' who flirted with you that faithful day. It was rather fun and such a bloody sight! Sharp, quick tears of human flesh being split open under broad, soft moonlight through the thick canopy of trees. Having a marvelous display of the human anatomy, from the muscles to the ribs of the person. It seems as if Kokushibo skinned them alive.

ॄ⿻🍙 | With their muscles being torn open slowly with the assistance of his powerful jaws; revealing the skeletal structure as well as slimy organs pulsing. Only an expressionless look could be found on Kokushibo's face as his mouth is drenched in the blood of his victim's. Finally, to end this suffering once and for all, he caresses the human's heart before gouging it out completely with one tight pull.

ॄ⿻👁 | For days! screams of pain, sorrow and agony emanated from the dense forest. Corpses and mutilated bodies were the only things left behind afterwards. It was the act of a malicious creature indeed.

ॄ⿻🍙 | With time you became paranoid that you'd be next on the hit list since others whom you loved and were with you always vanished, the only last traces of them being their unrecognizable corpse after. How sad. Little did you know, the person who was causing these disappearances was growing tired of having you by yourself. He needed to have you, feel you, touch you, be with you.

ॄ⿻👁 | So thats what he did, after one night of finally holding your limp body fast asleep within his strong arms and which were much dirty from previous matter, he finally had you in his grasp. And it felt amazing! The mass amounts of waves of pure pleasure flooded over him at the simple touch of your bare skin, it was great.

ॄ⿻🍙 | Soon after, you awoke when the sun just peaked over the horizon, confusion looming through the atmosphere. You weren't in your room, you weren't home, you were unfamiliar with everything in this place. Surely, it looked cozy and nice but you were horrified. What could this place be?

ॄ⿻👁 | You did some exploring of the cozy home and found and exit, opening it to only be revealed to upper moon one. And he was touring and big compared to your built. His blank stare was cold and you could feel shivers and cold sweat running down your back gradually. He smiled softly. Your blood ran cold as he spoke up to introduce himself to you, before laying down some ground rules.

ॄ⿻🍙 | You weren't a pet so that was utter crap! no matter how many protests you put up he always was calm and eerily quiet about it. However, that doesn't mean you'd get off scot-free, your punishments were never usually sexual, that was used as a reward; if you were comfortable with it. But they did consist of you being isolated for extended periods of time without food and barely any drink or you were forced to eat cooked flesh from your own kind.

ॄ⿻👁 | He would never hurt you though but don't test him too much, his patience isn't to be taken for granted. Attempt one slick move and a bone will be broken to prevent further instances. Isn't that fair darling? He's only giving you what you wanted; anything you could possibly want from the prettiest clothing to the shinest jewelry to the most delicious food. He can do it all, just love him!

ॄ⿻🍙 | Muzan would probably not care about his newfound obsession. For the most part, he'd encourage Kokshibo to be with you, only feeding into his tendencies; as long as it does not disturb his work. So, there's really no happy end, for you, however, he does have a different story to tell. Maybe you'll love him, cherish him like how he does with you. Show him the affection that he's always dreamed of! Be his. He'd do anything to protect his angel.

ॄ⿻👁 | And for the record, there are all six eyes on you, I suggest you don't plan on anything foolish.

© angelic-dew, please don't reclaim or translate without permission <3

[sapphicbookclub]

The Genesis of Misery Neon Yang

This is the story of Misery Nomaki (she/they) – a nobody from a nowhere mining planet who possesses the rare stone-working powers of a saint. Unfortunately, these saint-like abilities also manifest in those succumbing to voidmadness, like that which killed Misery’s mother. Knowing they aren’t a saint but praying they aren’t voidmad, Misery keeps quiet about their power for years, while dreaming and scheming up ways off their Forge-forsaken planet.

But when the voice of an angel, or a very convincing delusion, leads Misery to the center of the Empire, they find themself trapped between two powerful and dangerous factions, each hoping to use Misery to win a terrible war.

Still waiting to be convinced of their own divinity and secretly training with a crew of outlaws and outcasts, Misery grows close to a rebel royal, Lady Alodia Lightning, who may know something of saints and prophecy herself. The voice that guides Misery grows bolder by the day, and it seems the madness is catching…

Genres: science fiction, space opera

Get the book from Blackwell's with free worldwide shipping here!

Listen to the book on audiobooks.com here!

[thevagabondexpress]

where are you going, my blue-eyed son?

For anyone who remembers my Genderbent TLH series (delusions & terrible fictions) here's a study in Fields, the oc that shows up on and off through those books. Because I remembered that I had a character that canonically left home to be a mercenary so she could travel Europe fighting forest fires and I felt I had to dig into the why of that a little deeper.

So, when she left Quebec, here's what Fields told her mother.

tagging @faithfromanewperspective and @4uru and, tentatively, @tleeaves

[duckprintspress]

National Non-Fiction Day: 31 Titles to Get Your Queer Learn On!

In the past year, we’ve posted a lot about our favorite queer fiction titles. We wanted to take Non-Fiction day to talk about the non-fiction titles that have impacted us! Whether self-help, memoirs, psychology, history, sociology, or a different non-fiction genre, these are books that have helped us learn, helped us teach, helped us improve, helped us see and be seen, and helped us be more informed. So join us as we introduce our thirty-one recommendations for National Non-Fiction Day!

Fine: A Comic About Gender by Rhea Ewing

Gender Born, Gender Made: Raising Healthy Gender-Nonconforming Children by Diane Ehrensaft

Dear Senthuran: A Black Spirit Memoir by Akwaeke Emezi

Fun Home: A Family Tragicomic by Alison Bechdel

Ace: What Asexuality Reveals about Desire, Society, and the Meaning of Sex by Angela Chen

Here For It: Or, How to Save Your Soul in America by R. Eric Thomas

Transforming: The Bible and the Lives of Transgender Christians by Austen Hartke

Bitch: On the Female of the Species by Lucy Cooke

Unmasking Autism: Discovering the New Faces of Neurodiversity by Devon Price

My Lesbian Experience with Loneliness by Nagata Kabi

transister: Raising Twins in a Gender-Bending World by Kate Brookes

!Hola Papi!: How to Come Out in a Walmart Parking Lot and Other Life Lessons by John Paul Brammer

Strangers: Homosexual Love in the Nineteenth Century by Graham Robb

London and the Culture of Homosexuality, 1885 – 1914 by Matt Cook

Queering Your Craft: Witchcraft from the Margins by Cassandra Snow

Female Husbands: A Trans History by Jen Manion

The Ethical Slut: A Guide to Infinite Sexual Possibilities by Janet W. W. Hardy and Dossie Easton

The New Queer Conscience by Adam Eli

Before We Were Trans: A New History of Gender by Kit Heyam

Testosterone Rex: Myths of Sex, Science, and Society by Cordelia Fine

Peculiar Places: A Queer Crip History of White Rural Nonconformity by Ryan Lee Cartwright

Delusions of Gender: How Our Minds, Society, and Neurosexism Create Difference by Cordelia Fine

Queer Budapest, 1873 – 1961 by Anita Kurimay

LGBTQ-Inclusive Hospice and Palliative Care by Kimberly D. Acquaviva

Queering Colonial Natal: Indigeneity and the Violence of Belonging in Southern Africa by T. J. Tallie

Handbook of LGBT Elders: An Interdisciplinary Approach to Principles, Practices, and Policies edited by Debra A. Harley and Pamela B. Teaster

LGBT Transnational Identity and the Media by Christopher Pullen

Gender Diversity: Crosscultural Variations by Serena Nanda

LGBTQ Cultures: What Healthcare Professionals Need to Know about Sexual and Gender Diversity by M. J. Eliason and P. L. Chinn

The Terrible We: Thinking with Trans Maladjustment by Cameron Awkward-Rich

Trans Bodies, Trans Selves: A Resource for the Transgender Community edited by Laura Erickson-Schroth

You can view this list as a shelf on Goodreads!

It can be so difficult to find good non-fiction resources on queer topics. Which titles to DO you recommend?

[skinnypaleangryperson]

This house is full of nothing but consumer cobwebs, and a failed attempts of being able to be seen as a creative and as an individual both on a personal level as well as professionally throughout my life. I can literally feel the spiritual and physical dust and grime going through the books and the celebrities I've crushed on, the creative people that I've admired and have read about ever since high school and now, as a washed-up meaningless nameless 27-year-old that is nothing but internet trash, I've never been more aware about where my journey was going and it feels like my head is imploding constantly wanting to rant and to see that failure in everything, everyone, and in everything set around me. It blows my mind that people just accept the fact that their dreams never come true and that they just live that way. That they don't even some just try to be able to spew out every minute of every day how unhappy they are and how detrimentally spiritually devastating it is. When I was a kid, being a nobody and not being creatively successful was not yet a mark of anything of a lack of character or of anything I had to offer, it was just simply something that I hadn't figured out yet. Now I can't enjoy anything anymore, I see my failure and everything at best, and at worst, I see a lifeline of profound spiritual and physical suffering that is surrounding me from an already terrible unremarkable and a loveless childhood enough as it was where I was told that I could push through it because once I got older, it would "get better", only to realize that those were all just cope adults that couldn't stand the idea that some people are born miserable and unnamed and unseen, and only become increasingly worse until the point of death as they get older.

I'm now just another no name, miserable on Reddit and miserable at work in real life with people who are in the same circumstance who are probably told the same lies for all the same fake and reasons growing up. Some people can handle it more than others but I can't even enjoy anything anymore. I realized today while everybody else was casually enjoying the Oscars in the celebrities in the rich people that are celebrating and knowing each other, that I seem to be one at the very few that is in a genuine state of peer despair over the way that my life is gone and the way that it will continue to go, at best, exactly the same within it's a loveless impossibly robotic mundanity and even abuse on the internet, and worse, to end up dying or alone on the side of the street while everybody else celebrates how special they are, the people that get to run this country, the people that really wanted, the rich people in the celebrities, the ones who own people souls.

This is only a small section of the torment that's in my head everyday, and I'm just waiting for the day when it renders me to a sense of complete dysfunctionality. There's cobwebs in my throat to those cobwebs on the things I used to be able to enjoy before I realized my own true unremarkable dry, profoundly pathetic nothingness in reality, and the way that it's always been on them and the fact that I just didn't have the unfortunate temperature reality to be able to see about what that actually meant, and the delusions that I held and kept close to me that I still do but now just do on a fictional level because I can't stand the burning pain of being a part of reality even on a pair of social relationship way knowing what that means for me if I were to allow myself to.

Nothing helps and nothing will ever change it. And the worst part, is that 98% of the time in this world I feel like I'm experiencing it entirely on my own.

[nerdraging4point0]

Blood of Eden // Part Three // Noah Sebastian Urban Fantasy AU Fic

Tropes and Tags: MM, MF, MFM, MFM, instalove, too much sex, tattooed men, polyverse, shapeshifters.

CW: 18+ only minors DNI. Urban Fantasy romance, Smut. Angst. Fluff (ish), Story includes D/S themes, mentions of blood and gore, mentions of drug use and distribution, mentions of prostitution, unprotected sex, male receiving oral sex, female receiving oral sex, cuckolding, P/A sex, P/V sex.

This work below is fictionalized ideas and stories involving real people but does not directly reflect their thoughts, feelings, or behaviors. Please keep in mind that this is a work of fiction.

Active taglist: @ladyveronikawrites @tearfallpixie @beaker1636 @circle-with-me @synthetic-wasp-570 @itsjustemily @thesazzb @vinyardmauro @cookiesupplier @concreteemo @dominuslunae @mountains-to-move @sundamariis @caitcoreeeee @crimson-calligraphyx @letmeadoreyoux @starsomens @artificialbreezy @lma1986 @iknownothingpeople @lilrubles @shilohrosechicken @missduffsblog @jessicafg03 @thatchickwiththecamera @mysticdoodlez @chels3a-smile @sinkingteethinwhitenoise @deathblacksmoke @roley-poley-foley @ravieisunhinged @dethronetheveil @to-be-written @somewhere-diamond @somebodyels3 @sacredthefran @th0ughts-pr4yers @skulliecadaver-blog @hayleylatour @littlefoxkota @anameunmusical @talialovesmiw @sacredthefran @jilliemiw86 @darkmxgician

Her face was hot and flushed, the white light behind her eyelids so bright she instinctively squeezed them shut to help cut it out.

Was she dead?

Was this the afterlife?

She hoped not; it was uncomfortable, and her body felt stiff and heavy like it was full of lead. Rolling to her left side, she braced herself with her right hand. Big mistake. The pain shot through her arm from shoulder to wrist and back again. She winced, crying out, before pulling herself to her knees; the wound was crusted and full of gravel from the roof, tenderly brushing off the debris from her sweater. Pulling the collar of her shirt down, her nose turned up as she surveyed the damage. 

Jaw marks and scattered puncture wounds, red and ugly, on both the front and back of her shoulder. The skin around the punctures was gray; some spots were purple and tender to the touch. She poked at the wound, shuddering at the sharp, pinprick feeling of pain. Memories of the night before rushed to the forefront of her mind: the breaking into the lab, the running, the hunters. The hunters. 

Those terrible beasts were as brutal as she'd imagined they'd be, all death and destruction in their faces. 

Faces. 

His brown eyes and beautiful face. 

Groaning, she squeezed her eyes tight, trying to erase the hallucination from her mind. 

Way to go, Rosa. You're attracted to your own delusion, she scolded herself.

 Doubled over on her knees, she tried to catch her breath. Her head was spinning, and a thundering in her ears had her feeling like her stomach was rolling over itself, usually meaning she was about to hurl. She was surprised she was even alive; hunters usually didn't leave anything behind. Or at least that was the legend. 

A year or so ago, a guy living in her complex disappeared after attempting to steal from one of the banks downtown. He wasn't much to her besides a weekend trick; he seemed nice, and she was drawn to him, and for her, that was enough. It was his fault for trying to break into the bank owned by that stupid mob. His friend's story was that a team of hunters went after him, and he was never seen again. Whatever this mob was, they had owned everything crucial for as long as Rosa could remember. Banks, laboratories, the largest living complex in the city, and apparently, they were worldwide. 

Another rumor was they created the hunters in their labs, taking animals off the street and scientifically experimenting on them to be precise killing machines.

And apparently capable of climbing rooftops. she sneered.

Once again reminded that the hunters had climbed the roof after her, she spun her head around, feeling lightheaded as she took in her surroundings. She was still on the roof, furiously looking over her shoulders to see if the hunters were still there watching her. Slowly, the sounds of people, cars, and other signs of life reverberated to the rooftops from the streets below. It was still early morning, almost afternoon. She was alone, left abandoned where she'd passed out.

Her eyes wandered to the raised ledge of the rooftop she'd jumped from last night; lifting her right shoulder, she could feel the resistance of the muscles and a deep settling pain from the bruises. Nope. she thought. She'd never make it; she'd only be able to catch herself and maybe hang out for a minute or two before falling to her ultimate death. 

Slowly helping herself to her feet, she hobbled toward the other side of the rooftop; the gap was obviously big enough to fit a semi through it, and there was no way she could jump. As luck would have it, a fire escape toward the end of the alley was rusted and old, but it was closer than the dumpster several feet below her. By her guess, it was eight feet from the ledge; it would be a chance jump, but everything about her life lately was chance. Taking a seat on the chipped ledge, she let her legs dangle free in the air; the thought crossed her mind: she could take a good leap and fall and end all her misery. 

Tears filled her eyes. Too many people with her condition have done that already. She didn't need to be another statistic; she needed a cure. 

She took a moment to look over her shoulder, afraid of what she would see; when there were no hunting dogs or handsome men behind her, she took a deep breath, sliding off the ledge to her target. Just barely making it onto the fire escape, she crumpled into a heap as her body made contact with the rusted metal. Landing directly on her right shoulder, the force squeezed the scabs from her skin, and fresh red coated her shirt again. 

Sitting up with her back to the wall, cradling her arm as she forced herself not to cry, she bit down on her lip as her shoulder screamed in agony. 

She would need to clean up and dress her wounds before trying to make a walk across town to her shit apartment. Standing on wobbly legs, she took two steps before seizing the rail, forcing herself to stay upright. Her stomach rumbled, and her shoulder screamed; between the two, she wasn't sure which was worse. Taking her time, she made it to the last landing, the remaining stairs gone. At least she was now only three feet from the ground. She sat on the edge and rested her shaking legs before sliding onto the concrete below. 

Lumbering a few blocks down the street, her eyes caught the large sign of a local drugstore. The smell of old cardboard and antiseptic hit her nose, the noise of the bell at the door clattering in her brain. She gave a half-hearted smile to the lady behind the register; she was older, with some gray streaks in her once-brown hair. She was wearing too much makeup for her age, smacking her gum between her teeth as her eyes wandered up and down, taking Rosa in before another customer stepped up to her with his items. 

Walking down the aisle, she pulled a few boxes of gauze off the shelves, turning them over to the back, acting like she was comparing the brands. She let her peripheral scan the aisle, and when she didn't see anyone, she put a box back on the shelf. Moving down the aisle, she found skin tape, hydrogen peroxide, bandages, and antibiotic ointment. Making sure no one was watching and she was out of sight of any cameras, she slipped the antibiotic ointment between her jeans band and skin. 

She returned most of the supplies, only keeping the box of gauze and tape in hand, taking it up to the register, and pushing the items to the rude cashier.

"Cash or card?" the lady asked with a snooty tone. Like Rosa was the type to have a card. She reached into her pocket with her left hand, letting go of her elbow, keeping her right tucked tight to her body. The clerk looked at how she was cradling her arm, suspiciously eying her shirt like she was mulling out more than she paid. Passing her the last few dollars she had in her pocket, Rosa scoffed, pushing her collar down to show her bruises and cuts. Rosa rolled her eyes in response as the clerk hung her head sheepishly. 

Rosa didn't even both with a bag, grabbing her things in one swipe and leaving the store. She walked home exhausted and starving. The pain finally died out; she was OK if she didn't move the arm. 

Rosa, you can't not move your arm for the rest of your life. 

Whatever life she had left. 

The Rage is what they called it. Making its first appearance ten years ago, it took off in the last six years. A deadly sickness much like brain cancer, hallucinations, and vivid deja vu-like dreams were only part of it. Some people could live with the symptoms, but the inevitable insomnia that follows soon rots your brain and starts the descent into death. Some people didn't have it so bad, and some had it worse; either way, you didn't survive. 

She diagnosed herself three years ago; it wasn't hard; the deja vu came first, slowly and without actual purpose. One night, while leaving the club, she saw her first hallucination; she knew it wasn't the booze because it happened again the next day when she was sober. She could have gone to a doctor and had a proper diagnosis, but who could afford that? 

She had studied science before the economy took a shit two years ago, specifically in the medical field. She found that taking the pollen from the Nightshade flower and mixing it with the proper chemicals created a decent anti-symptom. She'd been injecting herself with it since, only needing a dose once a month. At first, the shots did the trick; sometimes, she wouldn't need to do them once a month. But lately, she'd get a shot, and it would only last a few weeks. While the symptoms were manageable, she hated the looming fear that one day, her miracle medication would no longer work. 

That's why she needed to go into the lab. Rumor was they had an all-around cure, but it was still untested on humans. She figured if she could get her hands on it, she could replicate, if not improve it. She tried to do it the right way and get employed, but her lack of degree due to dropping out of school and no experience was a bust. 

Her apartment was modest, but who can be picky when you live free of charge. Six months after her husband's diagnosis, Rosa's landlady came to her at their wits end. In exchange for free rent, Rosa gave him some of her nightshade injections to ease his symptoms. He died anyway, but for her kindness and effort to help, Rosa had free room and board for life. Climbing the remaining steps to her apartment, she suddenly felt a buzz around her skin. Something was off. She shook her head. Another side effect of the Rage is constant paranoia. She tried to get her keys into the lock with her supplies still in hand; doing this with one arm was tricky. Her keys fell out of her hands, clattering on the hard floor.

"Fuck." she sighed, bending down to get them. A hand beat her to it, long slender fingers with black painted nails adorned with swoops and swirls of black ink like someone had painted his skin. Her breath quickened in her chest, her eyes following the length of the arm in front of her as the fingers encircled her keys, her only weapon disappearing into his hand. 

He wore an unbuttoned baseball jersey, the swoop neck white T covering his chest, her eyes catching a glimpse of more tattoos disappearing just under the collar of his shirt. They expanded up his neck to his jawline; a black leather strap with a single metal ring fit snugly around his neck, watching the ring sway back and forth hypnotically as he breathed. Meeting the eyes under the black baseball cap, she almost fainted then and there. Chocolate brown orbs looked at her under the bill of his cap, his thin lips curving into a one-sided smile.

"Hello, Rosa." His voice's melodic tenor washed over her. It was just as pretty as he was. She could die happy being engulfed in him, the smell of spicy bergamot and sweet vanilla. 

"H-h-how did you," she stuttered.

"Your lovely landlady, Jill. She needed help with her groceries. She assumed we were friends." for a delusion, he had charm. Of course, he would have devised a logical reason to make it pass a locked front door. Rosa kept her body still. "Here," he said, standing to his full height, "Let me help you."

[20001541]

All For One is not the worst (action wise) villain. I have read even worst characters morally and mentally fucked up comparison to him in fiction but my god he is one of the funniest villain ever boot. Like this old dude is larping as a demon lord from a comic he read in childhood which he never finished, self awareness is absolutely zero but will seduce and manipulate a man just to get that character avatar and 99+ his enemy.

I am still howling from those fancy dinner he has with Kotaro. That's canon panel. I still can't believe it.

+ adding this one too because it's relevant to this ask

I love AFO so much for this reason. He's so entertaining with how he acts likes he's in a comic book where he's the author and main character. Sorry AFO this isn't your story to write nor be the protagonist of! The man is fueled by pure delusion but he never fails to keep my attention. He knows how to keep an audience on their toes.

Honestly that whole twist in 419 was wild. Never would've dreamed of something like it. Sure I had thought of scenarios where Kotaro and AFO briefly meet, but I never imagined AFO would go so far as to insert himself so deeply into his life. What do you mean he's the one who encouraged Kotaro to have another child and what do you mean Kotaro listened??? 😭

The only person who I saw vaguely predicted it was this one fan artist who made ship art of them in 2019 that said, "What if AFO and Kotaro met when AFO was disguising himself as someone else and they were friends?"

AFO is so terrible but he's such a fun character. I like studying him likes he's a weird bug.

[kingcunny]

(reply via @neurodivergentguy )

the ageism/ beauty obsession* is what it *probably is*, but that deeply depresses me so im gonna let the delusions speak and explore other ideas.

also just… pointing out. matthew needham is only 11 years younger than paddy… they were born in different generations but 10 years is not a generation gap? that doesnt seem like enough of an age gap for ageism to apply to one but not the other but… well what do i know. (and pleace and love, i think hes cute, but matthews far from the most handsome man in hotd) also. exception that prooves the rule? rhys ifans is 6 years Older than paddy (and ottos the one who set alicent up to be brutalized by every man around her until she dies, it were going by hotd canon!) and sure, otto Might be the second most hated in the fandom, but not anywhere Near how vis is. but rhys is also incredibly handsome. so that Obviously gives the character he plays a free pass to do whatever.

* (is there a word for that? (other than. eugenics lol. cause like thats the idea Behind it but not quite to the extreme that im talking about? i mean more peoples attraction towards ‘beauty’ vs a repulsion towards ‘ugliness’) cause i need one for how often i talk about it)

if it was just about actions then theyve both done terrible things. and theyve both hurt everyones favorite beautiful doe eyed pretty brown eyed beauty beautiful pretty girl. but larys doesnt get near the amount of vitriol for it. people analyze what larys did. people ship Them. (same thing more or less applies to what i said above about otto)

and if youll allow me to straddle my armchair for a moment, then theres my thought that viserys is the bad dad we get the most time with. and NOBODY has a good relationship with their father. most people cant do anything about that, so instead they seek catharsis through fiction. smacking the representation of your father cause you cant smack your real father. see also- succession fandoms treatment of logan roy

while i do think its ultimately just about playing favorites, ageism, beauty obsession**, i think theres also an element of ableism. and hear me out, cause i know ur thinking ‘arent they both disabled?’

larys disability is very visible and apparent, the limitations of that disability as well. his leg is twisted, he wears that metal boot over his foot, he walks with a cane, he has a limp. he cant run, cant fight, cant hunt, i can tell you from personal experience stairs are a struggle. he can probably ride a horse but its sure not comfortable. its more understandable. more or less, what you see is what it is. and, importantly, its not�� unpleasant** to look at. his face is fine. the rest of his body is fine. just his leg.

viserys disability spawns from an illness. and even though hotd changed viserys illness to be more visual, the nature of illness is you cant see the cause, only the effects. and most of those effects are only things the person experiencing the illness can feel.

i had a conversation with my mom about this awhile ago after she pulled a tendon? in her leg and was in near constant pain while it healed, couple weeks. she told me she had no idea how i handled this, day in/day out, week after week, for Years. she was miserable and at the end of her rope after just a week of it. my moms a runner and runs something like 50 miles a week, obviously she couldnt do this while it healed and was very depressed about it. i could only kinda laugh. i couldnt tell her how i handle it, cause i cant. i just told her i think if you dont have chronic pain or a chronic illness, you just straight up do not and Will not understand what its like. she just had a little taste of it.

i think that also might be why theres not as much (good) discussion around viserys disability. because people just, do not understand it. dont understand what its doing to him.

they dont get how chronic illness eats away at you (in vis case, literally!) taking piece by piece until theyres nothing left. until youre just a shell of the person you used to be. they dont feel how chronic pain grinds away at you until youre nothing but a raw exposed bundle of nerves. because those arent things you can see. only feel. experience first hand.

the show tries to make up for this lack by making viserys illness have a very striking visable aspect to it. to show the progression of his illness and the effect its having on him. but illness is gross**. its not pretty. its not pleasant to look at, to *think* about. it ravages his face, his body, his teeth rot and his hair falls put. his arm has to be amputated, his eye is removed, half his face rots away. peoples stomachs turn to look at it and their animal instincts that this is Bad kick in.

if im being kind, most people dont want to talk about things that are unpleasant. that make them sick, that upset and scare them.

if im not being kind, the eugenics minded decide that this means *viserys* is bad. that this is a punishment for or straight up a moral failing of his. outer beauty reflects inner beauty so ugly=evil pretty=good. and all that bullshit. if youre coming at it from this pov you CANT think deeper about viserys disability/illness/character beyond it being a punishment or joke, because then you must confront your belief that illness is a punishment reserved for the Bad. and that is a thought that is just incompatible with life

[hainethehero]

Dude. Basketball is a high contact sport, he bumped into Eddie and Eddie fell bad lmao. Tell me you've never played a single team sport in your life without telling me etc.

Plus Buck felt terrible about it. That was literally on screen.

You guys are so weird and racist. What the fuck.

Though it's not surprising that a toxic buddie stan cannot see a scene for what it is, I implore you to watch it again.

He purposely bumped into Eddie. He had room to knock the ball away from the basket and stumble forward, but CHOSE to bump into Eddie. I never said he purposely wanted to hurt him, or that he didn't feel bad about it, but it's pretty clear from the scene that he wanted to slam into Eddie.

And though this means nothing, I actually have played sports, including MMA, football, cricket and basketball. And what Buck did would and could be classified as a foul. Do a whole replay since you're so sporty and watch it in slow motion.

The whole point of that ask & my reply (AND YOU'RE PROVING IT RIGHT NOW) is that dumb af toxic (because there are some good ones) buddie stans would excuse it because it's Buck, and not if it were anyone else. Y'all do it all the time, don't get mad when people draw the right conclusions. If Tommy did it, y'all would CRUCIFY him. Same with Eddie.

And HOW is pointing out your OBVIOUS favouritism for Buck vs any other character racist? Stop projecting, weirdo. And stop using the systematic racism that minorities go through to defend your fictional ship when you could GAF about racism and pocs.

It's a disservice to people actually facing racism and discrimination when you use it as a cheap excuse to fabricate hatred for a character that's getting in the way of your buddie delusions.