#fuck i had to go back through this entire thing and fix the formatting

[first-edition]

Fox and the Hound

Sum-Joffrey wants to send a message to your family after your brother embarrasses him, so he marries you off to his most unwanted man in his court, the hound. But will this marriage truly be a statement for an eyesore, or will it grow into something more. 

Cw for chapter- mention of animal death (horse), mention of pregnancy, 18+ words and themes overall. Slight angst.

// A/N: just wanted to apologize for the broken links since i changed my username they haven’t been working but i assure you ill get to fixing them so you all can access all of the chapters i will also end up making a goggle docs with the entire book for downloading when this series ends//

Previous chapter here

Chapter 14

“Sandor!” Beric speaks holding the reins of the largest horse leading it through the many other men who saddle up their horses with gear for trip. 

Sandor turns to see beric with the horse looking normal sized next to himself. Sandor takes the reins of the stroking its muzzle and nods. 

“Why don't you join us for the whole trip then, to lys and back?” Barrack asks. 

“I told you dondarrion I'm parting my ways at lys.” Sandor gruffly speaks as he tightens up the straps on the horse that are supporting the saddle bags. 

“Yes you did…but there is much more than a woman and squire is there not? A man so brute as you couldn't be bothered with little things such as that no can you..” Beric speaks again, getting back on sandors nerves.

“Keep talking and rip off your lips.” Sandor barks at the other man. 

“Right then…heading east to lys it is…” Beric says finally dropping the subject only to plan to revisit later in the journey. 

“Lets go!” Beric yells everyone mounts their horse before taking formation and doing last check overs of their horse and gear including Sandor whose mind now runs wild the thought of you and the babe that resides in your belly. He wonders of the names you've thought about, if you've even thought of any. He wonders if he had made the right choice in sending you off with the horse and not letting the other men capture you as well, maybe, just maybe, you'd still be by his side. He’d still be able to hold you in his arms right now as you both rode to the edge of the sands to acquire on to lys. Sandor mounts his horse and kicks it up to the front next to Beric as they begin the journey. 

—-----

Riding next to Beric isn't the worst of the trip nor is the fact that the horse keeps spooking at every rustle of a tumbleweed. But thoros singing the shitty off key tavern songs is the worst. 

“Will you shut the fuck up! You've been singing for 12 bloody miles, if you can even call that pig squealing singing." Sandor retorts at thoros who rides just a few men behind him. 

“Come on now clegane a song cannot hurt on a journey.” thoros chuckles leading other men to have a laugh as well. 

“It is when it's 12. FUCKING. MILES OF IT!” Sandor yells out causing them all to wipe the smile off their faces. 

“Come on thoros as much as i enjoy the voice the lord has given you cease it for now a bit of quiet to listen to nature with do us some good.” barrack says. ‘There's not an ounce of much nature around. Sand and more sand’ sandor thinks. Finally some quiet. Until Beric begins speaking again. 

“Your girl then clegane? The princess of volantis, i have only heard stories mere tales of her beauty, kindness. Of course they say the same of Joffrey's handsomeness and courage but he's quite average and weak-” Beric goes to speak but Sandor cuts him off before he can continue what will be a monologue. 

“Do you really want to know why so badly!?” Sandor snaps at the barrack who just nods. Sandor scoffs, tightening his hold on the reins before continuing. 

“A babe.” Sandor speaks. 

“Ah…yours then?” Beric asks, Sandor nods in return. 

“An heir to the Volantian throne with veins surging with Clegane blood. A boy?” Beric asks 

“Don't know. When your band of hogs ambushed us we got separated.” Sandor says. Beric stops his horse leading Sandor to do so as well. 

“You want to get back to your family..I understand that. I never had any family but these men who follow me are as close as it gets.” Beric says. 

“If you want them to stay that way, you’ll get me to sunspear.” Sandor replies. Beric nods as he dismounts his horse. 

“We camp here for the night.” Beric speaks, holding the reins to the horse.

“What are you doing?” Sandor asks. 

“Resting.” beric answers as he ties the horses reigns up on a near by dead tree. 

“We can do well now and make it to the vaith in the morning.” Beric says. 

“We can very well make it to vaith now!” sandor barks out at beric.

“Have you got any coin, Clegane? We’d need a pretty penny to give away to the innkeeper to house us all. Especially your large self.” Beric speaks. Sandor Huffs getting off the horse and heading for Beric. 

“You said-” he began but Beric put his hand on his chest. 

“-and I'm keeping my promise. I will get you to your wife and child. I'm keeping my word.” Beric replies. 

“Come now clega-” thoros begins but before he can continue sandor pulls himself back up on the horse and kicks off forcing the horse to run and leave the others behind. Thoros is about to draw his bow and arrow when beric holds up his hand. 

“Let him go. I think it’ll be best." Beric says and shakes his head. 

“WE SHALL MEET AGAIN CLEGANE!” Beric yells his word barley notable as the horses hooves are heavy in the mountains dusted pas

Sandor rides through the mountain pass to the vaith annoyed with beric delaying his journey even further. He had a plan, and he intends to stick to it. The sound of screeching overhead stops him as he looks up, slowing down the horse. Vultures circling above he moves the horse over down the rock patch to see the cumulative birds feasting on a dead horse. A glint of something hits his eyes as he gets off the horse and bends down seeing the emblem on the horse's reins. A king's landing horse..your horse. Or at least the one he stole when you both left. 

“Fuck!” he huffs looking around seeing a cloth that has been dirtied. He picks it up, seeing it's a part of your dress. 

“Shit! Fuck!” he stands and gets back on the horse riding down the rest of the way and finding his way to the vaith.

His mind runs wild with the scenarios of why your horse is dead on the mountain pass. Robbers, the kinglanding raiding party caught up to you and joss, anything and everything worries him. His mind only running with thought of you and your safety his only hope to know if you're okay is too skip sleep in the vaith and head straight for sunspear. 

Next chapter here

+++

ALSO I will be updating every other week so if you want special treatment I now have a patreon. Just for 2 dollars a month you can access drafts, unfinished and unposted works, ideas, blurbs, inspirational scenes and pictures, and early releases of the chapters all for Fox and the hound as well as a newer series that will be in the works after this one! My patreon will also be open for free on easter Sunday! March 31st!

Tag list- if you want to be added comment below!

@stephyshadows@germansarechill@urfavbiscuit@daphneyblue@takemeaemond@holb32@allison-119@pxstelink@imsolonelyimissyou@myshitaccount@broadsdrinkwhisky@@evie-beanie@eulysa23-2@greeknymph18@rudiruds@ex160-blog1@im-an-assho1e@chompwoman@heartb8k2@lovely--lover

[bloodied-dagger]

some song recs based off lyrics

@rainbowangel110 has asked, so I shall deliver

did I spend entirely way too much time on this? Yes. Was it worth it? Probably not. Did I have to add the lyrics I related to the most for every single song? No, but rainbow specifically mentioned the lyric posting and it's fun soooooo (anyways it's 4:30 AM over here so. if you see any mistakes, no you didn't. I'll edit this in the morning so it won't have any)

Complete list without the commentary is at the bottom. List is in a Song Title - Artist format

Alternative

“Alternative” is being very loosely used here, there will be other genres mixed in here. Also, there is no particular order for this bit

I Will Wait - Mumford & Sons This is probably the most country song you'll ever get out of me, right next to the Nickleback song I've got in there

'Cause I will wait I will wait for you And I will wait I will wait for you

BREATHING UNDERWATER - Hot Milk This is very alt-rock emo of me, sorry rainbow

I tried breathing underwater to drown out the doubt Cracked under the pressure and nearly bled out You said you'd always save me - so where are you now? Feels like I'm failing, I'm dancing while drowning alone

Bells - The Unlikely Candidates Honestly I don't really care about the lyrics for this one, I just think I should throw something a bit more mellow after that last one and it's a good song so

And where we go, nobody knows Those bells are ringing, ringing loud Oh lord, we're going down - six underground Those bells are ringing, ringing loud

Razzmatazz - I DONT KNOW HOW BUT THEY FOUND ME Once again I throw a song in for the vibes and not the lyrics. Sue me

And now, well Some things just cannot be fixed With sparkled tongues and politics In a fascist little paradox, we all become anonymous

Rule #11 - My Dream, My Addiction - Fish in a Birdcage Okay, last one I'm adding for the vibes- for now

I, I've never seen a storm this fierce I, am feelin' rather small in here As the walls start to compress Shifting, squirming, restlessness

For You - Loveless Alright now here's a song I'm adding for the lyrics. It's also more on the rock song but it's not that heavy I don't think (maybe minus the bridge where it goes all heavy metal baseline for 8 or so bars)

Wasted my time Why would I ever waste another line on you, you? Crossing the line Why would I ever tell another lie for you, you?

Apologies - acloudyskye You must be something else if you thought we were getting out of this list without a skye song in here. This one isn't going to be everyone's cup of tea bc it's electronic but I like it so

I often think about their lives A fault in me I can't deny And in the end I won't even think So, apologies for all these things

Broken Zipper - Group Project You know I had to put a gp song on here somewhere. This one's def a more feel good song, also one I use to call myself out on with when I'm getting pissed about the little things Although it is a love song about crushing on your best friends sister or something? Whatever

You spend one week's worth of pay on your night out Wrote in pen and ran out of white out Lost your shades and it's much too bright out But who the fuck cares when you're breathing fine right now?

Could've Been Me - The Struts This song has made me cry, and that's an achievement when it's as upbeat of a song as it is

I wanna live better days Don't want to look back and say "It could've been me It could've been me"

Playing Dead - VIOLÀ Came because the song is an emo banger, stayed because I related to it a little while later. This one's also very rock, but I have to have a few in here

But if this is the last time I say sorry Then I'll take it back, 'cause I don't mean it You are the cancer in my body I'm done playing dead 'cause I still feel it

Through the Ghost - Shinedown No idea what living "through the ghost" means but it sounds poetic as hell

Speak of the devil, Look who just walked into the room The guilty invaded notion Of someone I once knew

Reason for Living - Morgan Page This song is actually for the beat saber soundtrack, and so is the next one. Naturally, it's on the more electronic/dance side of things but some of the lyrics are Big Mood™ so

'Cause I don't even sleep no more these days No such thing as staying up too late And nobody's at home waiting for me I'm staying up on a feeling - it's the reason for living

Heavy Weight (feat. Beat Saber) - Lindsey Stirling The fact that beat saber can get lindsey-fucking-stirling on a song is kind of crazy to me. Like. What

Heavy weight Feel it in my past mistakes But I think I've carried them For way too long

Inertia - AJR The shortest songname - artistname on this whole list, probably because it's competition is an artist who's name is abbreviated to IDKHBTFM. Anyway, when this came out I fucking Felt It hearing these words for the first time, and they still hit me the same way (maybe even more effectively than before)

An object in motion Don't ask where I'm going 'Cause where I am going is right where I am (Oh man!)

Alma Mater - Group Project This song reminds me of good times. Maybe not better times, but good ones that're long gone now.

I said "Hey, Why we always end up staying out late, Staying out late?"

It's a love song but I'm 100% not focused on that at all /gen

(Sad, yet) Impactful

Little commentary, songs in order of how impactful each of them are in my opinion (top = least, bottom = most) Also a good portion of these are probably heartbreak songs or smth but I'm pretending they're not like an aromantic would

Cellphone - Promoting Sounds & Nate Kest

It's getting late, I sipped too much Look at me strange, I'll be too blunt I'm easy to hate; I'm hard to love But you love me anyway - or is it lust?

I Won't Beg for You - Chri$tian Gate$

'Cause I won't beg for you, my dear These knees have bled, pulled out my hair Didn't know you tried to burn us down Even when we tried to work it out

Call Me - Shinedown

I finally put it all together But nothing really lasts forever I had to make a choice that was not mine I had to say goodbye for the last time

By The Way - Theory of a Deadman I usually listen to the "(Acoustic) [Bonus Track]" version of this song when I'm sad. figured that was worth mentioning so it isn't out of place (a hard rock song in the middle of a slower song list)

By the way You left without saying goodbye to me Now that you're gone, away All I can think about is you and me, you and me

Rayleigh Scattering - acloudyskye

And if it gets better It's taking forever And what's with this weather? It's not getting better

Before You Go - Lewis Capaldi

So Before you go Was there something I could've said to make it all feel better? If only I had known you had a storm to weather

Landing In London - 3 Doors Down

And when the night comes in around me And I don't think I'll make it through I'll use your light to guide my way 'Cause all I think about is you

Ashes of Eden - Breaking Benjamin

Are you with me after all? Why can't I hear you? Are you with me through it all? Then why can't I feel you?

To Build a Home - Grace Page

And I built a home For me, for you Until it disappeared From me, from you And now, it's time to leave and turn to dust...

Better Than Me - Bohnes

'Cause I Know that you Deserve better than me Better than me, yeah

My Body Is a Cage - Peter Gabriel This one's only here because of that full orchestra impact moment honestly

I'm standing on a stage Of fear and self doubt It's a hollow play But they'll clap anyway

No Time To Die - Billie Eilish

I should've known That I'd leave alone Just goes to show That the blood you bleed is just the blood you owe

My Immortal - Effervescent

These wounds won't seem to heal This pain is just too real There's just too much that time cannot erase

Chasing Cars - Snow Patrol

If I lay here If I just lay here Would you lie with me And just forget the world?

Somewhere Out There - acloudyskye

It's over Oh, and under Under we go So far below

Full list, no commentary:

Alternative

I Will Wait - Mumford & Sons

BREATHING UNDERWATER - Hot Milk

Bells - The Unlikely Candidates

Razzmatazz - I DONT KNOW HOW BUT THEY FOUND ME

Rule #11 - My Dream, My Addiction - Fish in a Birdcage

For You - Loveless

Apologies - acloudyskye

Broken Zipper - Group Project

Could've been me - The Struts

Playing Dead - VIOLÀ

Through the Ghost - Shinedown

Reason for Living - Morgan Page

Heavy Weight (feat. Beat Saber) - Lindsey Stirling

Inertia - AJR

Alma Mater - Group Project

Impactful

Cellphone - Promoting Sounds & Nate Kest

I Won't Beg For You - Chri$tian Gate$

Call Me - Shinedown

By The Way (Acoustic) [Bonus Track] - Theory of a Deadman

Rayleigh Scattering - acloudyskye

Before you go - Lewis Capaldi

Landing in London - 3 Doors Down

Ashes of Eden - Breaking Benjamin

To Build a Home - Grace Page

Better Than me - Bhones

My Body Is a Cage - Gabe Peters

No Time to Die - Billie Eilish

My Immortal - Effervescent

Chasing Cars - Snow Patrol

Somewhere Out There - acloudyskye

[lochblocknroll]

"𝚃𝚘 𝚔𝚗𝚘𝚠 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚕𝚊𝚗𝚐𝚞𝚊𝚐𝚎 𝚘𝚏 𝚢𝚘𝚞𝚛 𝚙𝚛𝚘𝚐𝚛𝚊𝚖 𝚒𝚜 𝚝𝚘 𝚎𝚗𝚜𝚞𝚛𝚎 𝚏𝚊𝚒𝚕𝚞𝚛𝚎 𝚊𝚝 𝚕𝚎𝚊𝚜𝚝 𝚝𝚎𝚗 𝚝𝚒𝚖𝚎𝚜." - 𝖣𝗈𝖼𝗍𝗈𝗋 𝖩𝗈𝖺𝗇𝗇 𝖥𝗈𝗅𝗌𝗐𝗂𝗌, 𝖫𝗈𝖼𝗁'𝗌 𝗉𝗈𝗌𝗍𝗀𝗋𝖺𝖽𝗎𝖺𝗍𝖾 𝖺𝖽𝗏𝗂𝗌𝗈𝗋

Introductions were not what Loch would list as one of his strengths. Communication in general was perhaps not on that list at all. He certainly wasn't in the habit of throwing 'able to talk to sentient bags of meat' onto his resume, not when his ability to talk to the incomprehensible vastness of cyberspace was there instead.

Of course, putting off the introduction was not going to make it go away, much to Loch's chagrin. He let anyone go before him that seemed eager enough to get their name out and their foot into whatever doors they were trying to force open. It was like sitting in the middle of The Thing, waiting to see which test might drag the impossible creature forward. Though, if any of these people were a cryptid, Loch knew, it would make this entire horse and pony show mean something. He had had his hopes set on that particularly sour-faced man being some kind of Roswell Grey, but that hope was dashed the longer this took and the other remained exactly as stone-faced as he had when they had gotten there.

That woman, Loch thought with a glance, could be a Flatwoods Monster, though she certainly was lacking that impressive collar that so defined her kind. He'd have to see if it was misplaced or, as one of his friends had claimed, it was actually a biological defense mechanism, like the frills of Dilophosaurus. It didn't seem practical, but neither did a horse with bat-wings and that certainly seemed common enough... Gods he was bored. Perhaps—

The sudden tug of all eyes on him pulled Loch from his thoughts and he cleared his throat awkwardly, shuffling in his seat and crossing one leg before uncrossing them and crossing it the other way. Why, in the name of the Flying Spaghetti Monster did he decide to sit in what amounted to the center of the room? He hadn't felt the urge to stand and brood in a corner like some of the others, but now Loch swore every hair on his body was standing upright as an unpleasantly large number of eyeballs fixed themselves upon him.

"Well, going off of this very unpleasant attention," Loch starts, going to stand before aborting the motion halfway through and sitting back down, "it's probably my turn. My name's Loch, Doctor Loch if you want to be an ass. If you're my abuelita, I'm Doctor Matias Rojas, but I don't see her here so I'm just going to stick with Loch. I really wasn't listening to the format here, so fuck it! I'll freeball it."

He paused, taking a breath and holding it for a few seconds before letting it out. This was already a disaster, but the only way out was through and he wasn't about to end up a red shirt this early in his job. "Like I said, I'm Loch. I got hired by the Foundation and their Sincere Comrades and Partners probably... A month ago? Time's been weird lately, which I blame completely on those interdimensional Bigfoots that have to be around here somewhere. I work predominantly in tech, mainly computers and software, but given the state of this place, the details will probably go over your heads, so I'll stick to that."

He paused, thinking for a moment as his hands tapped out a one-two rhythm on his legs. "I've got a cannibalistic fish named Hannibal the muscle heads made me leave behind and a severe tech withdrawal. If anyone ends up needing me, I'll be handwriting the most pointless codes I can. But, I'm sure we're all going to get along great! Oh, also, cryptid stories. Please regale me with your best ones. I might end up writing a book or some shit about them one day when I run out of code ideas."

[plusvanity]

Finally having the courage to come off anon for this because I feel that it’s important after learning what has been going on.

First off, hello. I’m the anon that had that issue with an ex mutual after they found out I was writing a fanfiction for Lords Of Chaos. Even after I explained numerous times that the fic was just for fun and based off the portrayal in the movie as I don’t feel comfortable writing RPF. But I don’t hate on people that do. I’ve even read some and even enjoyed them. Like your fic Something Rotten. I admit it’s been awhile since I read it, but I really loved your portrayals.

I wanted to thank you again for making me feel better and encouraging me to continue my work even if that incident made me upset. It really helped. I’m so sorry you have to deal with people accusing you of horrible things just because of art. I think people really misunderstand or just have some fucked up version of RPF entirely, thinking that people write it because they want things to be true and that’s like… um no?

I mean isn’t Hamilton and The Crown basically RPF but in TV/Musical formate? People loved that. I also remember seeing a TikTok where someone made a good point about RPF being better than those Gossip Papers where Celebs are being stalked and harassed to see if things are true. And that’s the main difference. These fanfics aren’t being sent to the people they’re about because that’s just wrong and messed up.

Please don’t let the negativity get to you. Your artwork has inspired me a lot and only makes me wish to be better, as well as your writing. Keep using your coping mechanism and don’t let these nasty people make you feel judged for it. Sending all the love hoping you feel better ❤️

Thank you so much, my friend 🫂🫂🫂🖤🖤🖤

Your compassionate message goes straight to my heart. I'm so happy that you found an inspiration in me. This is such a deep compliment. It genuinely brought a smile to my face 🖤

You're very right about fiction. I cannot write about Pelle or Varg, I can only create an interpretation of them, an idealisation (but not in the destructive) sense of the word. An idealisation that guides me through dark times and helps me fix real issues about my selfhood.

Thank you so much for coming forward with this 🖤🖤🖤 Sending love back 🫂🫂🖤🖤

[jasperandhenryslovechild]

YOYOYOYO DYSTOPIA AU / OC LORE DROP!!!

i decided that im gonna do it out of order because it makes it a lot funner for me to put things together and stuff!! but yeah yeah this is a chunky read, abt ~5600 words give or take? and tumblr kept posting it when i wasn't done fixing the formatting and it was so horrid😭😭 but it's good now!!

im gonna probably reblog this or edit it later with an ao3 link to make it easier to read

but yes yes i hope someone in this world enjoys this au a fraction as much as i do because that would have made all this struggle to getting it out worth it :)

reblog / reply with literally anything you thought about this i am in desperate need for someone to know about this in the way i do sososoososo that being said have fun

SEPTEMBER 7, 2024

DYSTOPIA, [UNIDENTIFIED]

2:26 AM

"Are you mad at me?" Ollie asks as he's following his friend down a dark alley behind Mallory's Community Center. Yara looked a bit off-putting right now— walking with an indignation that sort of scared him. If Ollie wasn't her friend, he'd avoid her.

"No," she responded, voice soft. Kind.

In this entire operation, Yara was the only thing Ollie trusted. She was the only thing Ollie stayed for. He didn't trust anything here. This was a cult, and sure, he was currently best friends with a girl in a cult, but she was kind. She was different than them. Ollie knew that if he could take her out of Dystopia, if he could take her to Swellview and on boat trips and hold her hand in his room while they did each other's hair (platonically, of course— his heart had always been set on that boy who'd stayed in Swellview after he'd left), she'd be a different person.

She'd do better.

"What is this, then?"

She didn't respond. It kind of scared Ollie. She'd broken into the house in the middle of the night, she'd opened his window and told him to pack everything he wanted to keep into a bag and leave with him. It was fucking creepy. Nay, it was terrifying. Ollie hadn't thought the operation would reach the lengths of his own home. But Henry had said he could go, he'd put a tracker on him just in case. Just to make sure he'd never be far.

And like that, he'd followed Yara. And over these weeks of getting to know her, he knew he'd follow her pretty much anywhere. But right now, he doubted if that was even a smart choice to begin with.

They turned a corner, getting further from Mallory's Community Center and closer to places Henry had banned the group as a whole from going to. Everyone except himself, of course, because he was always an exception. Ollie could scoff at it. But he'd said it was one of the more dangerous corners that Dystopia had to offer— big league villains with objectives and goals bigger than them. Things not even Henry considered himself ready for.

"Yara, what is this?" he repeated, hoping to get through to her. To get some kind of information, because this was freaking him the fuck out.

Silence.

"I'm not mad at you."

Yara looked back at Ollie, sort of slowing her pace to a stop. She looked at Ollie— he looked nervous. Scared. Her brows furrowed, and she took his hand, squeezing it. It was dark, the light of a single street lamp that flickered in and out illuminating Ollie's view of her. He could have sworn he'd seen her blush, but the light wasn't steady enough to make it out.

"I'm not mad at you at all."

"Are we in danger?"

"No!"

Yara laughed a bit, like the idea was absurd. It forced Ollie to give a half-hearted chuckle too, just to try to match the energy. His hands were cold as he held hers tighter— warm and soft and safe. Even if he didn't understand a thing right now.

"Why would you think that?" she asked, still laughing a tiny bit.

"I don't know- I don't- I mean-- look at this!"

Ollie let go of one of Yara's hands to gesture around them. To the abandoned buildings, broken windows and a desolate environment. Hollow. His voice sounded a bit annoyed, somewhere between frustrated and concerned.

"You- I was sleeping and you just broke into my place, told me to pack all my stuff into your backpack, and told me to come with you! And the stupider thing is that I did! And now you won't even tell me where we are, or what we're going to do, and you've taken me to this place--"

"Orion," Yara began, as if she was trying to soothe Ollie. Or shut him up. One of the two.

"It's fine. You're not in trouble or anything, but-"

"Are you in trouble? Yara, we can leave."

Ollie scoffed a bit, taking Yara's hand again.

"Do you think we're trapped here or something? We can leave Dystopia if you want. We can go wherever if you're in trouble!-"

"Why would I want to leave Dystopia?" she asked incredulously, and Ollie stopped. Gh. Why wouldn't you want to leave Dystopia?

"I'm not in trouble, and neither are you. We're fine. In fact, we're more than fine."

"If we're more than fine, why did you pull me out of my room at three in the morning?"

"Will you just walk with me?"

Ollie paused for a second, thinking it over. He could just leave right now. He could just walk away and go back home. He didn't _have_ to walk with her. But she had his most prized possessions on her back, and she looked so... off. Ollie almost didn't want to leave her alone. The curiosity to know what was going on was stronger than his drive to be left alone and go to sleep.

He let her hands go and began walking.

The silence was almost threatening, and Ollie got an incredibly bad feeling about this. He felt like right now was the right moment, maybe last moment, to turn back and go home. Like a notion that he was about to walk right into something horrible. Just then, before Ollie could really think any deeper about it, Yara spoke.

"Mallory and I have been thinking about you," she began. Ollie felt a bit grossed out— he'd never felt good about Mallory. Besides the fact he was a literal cult leader, he just had a bad air to him. Ollie tensed for a second. Had they found out about the mission?

"and we think you've been... great, really."

Ollie let out a sigh of relief.

"I mean, helping Alex out with orders and stuff. Helping Mel with the kids. Advocating for the truth at the meets Mallory does. You're really an exemplary child of Osiris. You have balls— new club members aren't really all for that, and you are."

"Thanks," Ollie responded, giving a bit of a smile. It wavered as a gust of wind brushed his skin— he wasn't really wearing anything adequate for the weather. An old shirt and gym shorts from his freshman year in highschool that he surprisingly never grew out. Maybe if he'd been given some sort of warning in advance, he'd be dressed for the occasion.

A murder of crows flew by them as Yara started speaking again— Ollie counted seven.

"We wanted to... give you a formal welcome into the Harbingers," she started up again, making Ollie raise a brow. They turned another corner, into some kind of warehouse. It didn't have doors, and felt more like a parking lot than a warehouse now that Ollie paid a bit more attention to it. His mind was racing; what does that mean, what the fuck does that mean?

"You've done well with your initiation. Passed with flying colors, even. This is just a sort of final thing, yknow? Just to make sure you're with us."

"Do you doubt it?" Ollie asked back quickly. Seriously, what is this place?

"No, not at all! I'd never doubt your loyalty. None of us would. If we did, why would I bring you here?"

She smiled as she led Ollie across the abandoned parking lot, into a sort of sector that looked like it could be a store. A mall, it hits Ollie. This used to be a mall. Eugh, he does not like the sound of that. Malls are big, with a lot of rooms to hide things in. They're echoey, sure, but who goes to an abandoned mall? Who'd look for anything in an abandoned mall in a place as big and as technologically ahead as Dystopia?

If he went missing right now, who'd look for him here?

Was Henry even checking the tracker?

Ollie kept his quiet as he was led into a smaller area— it looked like it could be the lounge area before a bathroom. Or a changing room, or a lounge room. It was way too dark to tell. The room was barely lit, the only thing being a muffled light in the corner that wasn't strong enough to really help anything, and he could barely see Yara. She had taken his hand to guide him, and right now, Ollie was holding it tight enough to break it.

"You don't have to be afraid," someone spoke in front of him. Too close to him. Ollie yelped, taking a frightened step back and dragging Yara with him.

The sound of a match lighting could be heard, the fire sparking and illuminating the room a tiny bit. Whoever held the match was the person that had spoken, holding the fire to the candle he held in another hand.

Mallory.

Ollie could vomit.

He and Yara were laughing a tiny bit at Ollie's reaction, shaking his head.

"We're so sorry for scaring you, Orion," he began, passing the candle to someone Ollie could recognize as Alex. He took the candle around the room, lighting each one that was on the wall— held by a candle holder. Ollie furrowed his brows a bit as he watched it.

"We did not mean for it to be so dark in here, but the draft from outside kept coming in and putting the candles out— we kept the door open for Yara and you, but now that you're both here, we can keep the light on."

"... why not use lightbulbs?" Ollie deadpanned, as if the question was obvious. Mallory blinked, and spoke with a tone of genuine confusion.

"Excuse you?"

"Lightbulbs," he repeated. "Aren't lightbulbs a lot easier to use? Especially cause it's windy?"

"Candles are more natural. They come from the ground's natural materials, hydrocarbons that give more of an earthy feel--"

"They look a lot cooler than a lightbulb," Yara cut Mallory off, looking at Ollie. Mallory nodded.

"... yeah, they look a lot cooler than a lightbulb."

Ollie just sort of stared between them. That was so stupid.

"So, what is this?" he asked, looking around the room. Definitely an old lounge room. There were a good two or three other members of the Harbingers standing behind Mallory, in the back corners of the room. There was some sort of barrel next to one of them, with something inside of it, and in the middle of the room was a chair. With... straps? Rope?

Ollie shuddered.

"Well, Yara has told you about this being the final step to your initiation, no?" Mallory asked, and Ollie nodded. He swallowed, and it felt like swallowing a rock.

"She wasn't wrong— do you, by any chance, know what the final step might be?"

He hated how Mallory spoke to him like he was in kindergarten. He hated the way he looked, that stupid cloak. He wanted to beat up everyone in this room and go back home. He didn't know what stopped him. Maybe it was Henry's voice in the back of his head telling him he'd jeopardize the mission. Maybe it was Charlotte's, telling him it'd be better to just see it out for everything it was. He couldn't really hear his own voice between the fear and everyone in his head telling him what to do.

Maybe that was the most important part.

"I- don't?" Ollie responds meekly. "But it looks kind of scary, if it has to be done here-"

"It's not scary," Mallory reassured, putting a hand on Ollie's back. Ollie pulled away from it, but Mallory was persistent on keeping him close. Walking him over to the chair. "It's a way to connect you to Osiris, to unite Its followers under one common-"

"What is it?" Ollie insisted through gritted teeth, backing away from Mallory and from all of this. Closer to Yara, and closer to the exit.

Yara put a hand on Ollie's shoulder, making him look back at her.

"Calm down, Orion," she said, and it somehow found a way to make Ollie's shoulders drop a bit— less tense. She had a way of doing that. It made Ollie feel safe. She took her jacket off as she began speaking, tying it around her waist.

"Remember that time when we were on that truck?" she asked. "And you started pointing out all our scars and stuff?"

Of course he did, how could he forget?

A full night. They'd spent a full night in the back of Yara's old truck, 12 miles out from Dystopia in a field to get away from the heavy pollution of the city. They'd set out to see the stars and do the drugs that were left over from the transportation that night. It was early into the mission, a few days after he'd first signed up for it. It was stuff Mallory didn't need, so Yara thought they'd be able to just have fun with it while they stargaze, away from Dystopia and away from the world at large

Ollie remembers it as the first time he's ever used. It was great, but it was also kind of confusing— he didn't even know what it was, but he knew that it felt great. He found out he gets really fucking giggly and clingy when he's high, and he'd laid down in the back of the truck with Yara and started counting her freckles. Counting the scars on her arms and asking for their stories, landing on a weird looking one on her upper right arm.

It was what she showed Ollie once she took off her jacket, and it only settled in now what it actually was.

The Harbingers logo.

"No," Ollie said almost immediately, beating Yara to the punch as she had almost started to explain for herself why she'd brought up the memory. The idea of what they wanted to do to him was starting to settle in. He could feel his heart pounding in his chest— this is absolutely fucking insane. No. They're not- he's not going to let this happen.

"You're not doing that to me."

"Come here, Orion," Mallory cooed, grabbing onto Ollie's hand, to which he quickly jerked away.

"No! I'm not letting you brand me!"

"It's not just a branding," Yara said, moving towards the door as she looked into Ollie's eyes. Blocking his only way out.

"It's a way to connect to the God above. To show your unity and faith."

"I- I am faithful!" Ollie began, stumbling over his words as Mallory stepped towards him. He sounded a bit desperate, as if pleading with the people around him. The silence was deafening, and he felt like a cornered dog.

"I'm faithful! You said you didn't doubt that!"

"Then why won't you let us do this?" Mallory asked, getting more insistent. A bit closer to Ollie, too, like an animal trainer. Or a capturer.

"Because I don't want to be branded, dude- who-- who wants to be branded?!"

"Orion, just-" Yara began, but she was cut off.

"I'm not letting you guys do this. I'll do- I'll go to the masses, I'll wear the cloaks, I'll do whatever you want, but not--"

"You're condemning yourself."

"No, I'm not!"

Ollie began to try to start for the door, push Yara out of the way and run, but he felt someone grab him from behind. Yanking on the back of his shirt, pulling him in and grabbing his torso, raising him up and off the floor. Ollie turned his head, turned to see who's face he'd be pounding in.

Alex.

"Fuck, dude, don't- no! I don't want this, let me go!"

Ollie felt so fucking stupid for not being able to get out of his grasp. He thrashed, kicking his legs and clawing at Alex's arms, biting his hands trying to make him let go, but he didn't budge. Had he paid more attention to Henry when he teaches stuff, or been a better fighter, or gone on more missions, or anything, he might've been able to get out of this. He knew Sovi would. He knew Henry would. Fuck, even Piper would probably do better than this pathetic squirming thing Ollie was doing. He was too focused on surviving to think about practical ways to do it, and as he began yelling at his once-friend for restraining him like this, Mallory began speaking.

"Calm down," he began, and Ollie wanted to spit on him.

"You really shouldn't be put off by your initiation! This is all just a part of the process, and I promise you that everyone you love here has done it. Myself included!"

"I don't love you," Ollie spat as he was pushed down into the chair, the other Harbingers in the room coming from behind to tie him down. Yara gave a surprised look at the comment. Ollie didn't notice it, too focused on trying to get these people off of him.

"That is truly a shame," Mallory said, coming closer to Ollie and kneeling himself down in front of him.

"because I love you. And I love Yara, and I love Alex, and I love all our members. You're all equal and so, so important to me. This is why I'm doing this, do you not understand?"

Mallory put his hands on Ollie's balled fist, almost holding it. The worst part was that the hold felt loving. Like he was truly trying to comfort him, even through the disgust and rage Ollie was feeling. It was a gentle hold that felt fueled with nothing but care, even if this man meant nothing close to it. This man was nothing close to it.

He wanted to cry.

"I'm doing this because I love you. Because I truly want you to survive through The Final Abolishment. You will be recognized as a child of Osiris, and it will be... wonderful. It will feel like waking up for the first time."

He breathed it out like he truly believed it. Ollie hated himself for ever following Yara right about now. Mallory rubbed a thumb against his hand as tears pricked Ollie's eyes, and Ollie took a deep breath to compose himself. His jaw was clenched, hackles raised— he was furious and emotional and yet, Mallory soothed him like he was soothing a child. Ollie felt like anything but right now— he felt too grown for his own good, and he wanted to go home. And as stupid as it might sound, he wanted to sink into Sovilo's arms and cry, because this whole mission was just more than he ever knew he could take on.

Maybe that's why Mallory was treating him that way.

"Don't cry. People feel like this when they first sit here, too, did you know? I felt like you, too, when it was my first time branding myself. Because I was unsure. Because I wasn't fully devoted. I promise you that this is it, Orion, this is the turning point. You will never feel more connected to Osiris than now, okay? Do you trust me?"

'Not even with the time,' Ollie wanted to snap, but felt the last rope tighten around his leg and knew he was at this dude's full disposal. He didn't have any powers like Sovi or Henry— he couldn't use brute force to get out of the chair, he couldn't 'forcefield' these dudes away from him. He wasn't indestructible. It was just him and his words and his wits and that was it— and he wasn't even that smart! He just thought this would be a drug op! This wasn't the mission he signed up for!

Henry had promised him it wouldn't ever get physical against Ollie, not until he was ending the mission entirely. This didn't feel like the end at all, and it felt so far from the beginning. He couldn't out himself now, because that meant so much worse for everyone else he loved. If they branded the people they loved in this cult, what would they do to the people that betrayed them?

"... I trust you," Ollie breathed out, heart pounding in his ears. He could faint. Mallory, however, was satisfied with the answer and stood up.

"Then let us do this."

The moments between Mallory getting up and the branding iron being pushed against his upper arm were a blur. He could hear Yara sort of come closer to him, feel her grab onto his hand tight as if to help ground him. He didn't know what he was supposed to do about this— he was literally about to be fucking branded. And he didn't want anything to do with it.

He could hear the barrel open, could hear hot coals shift around in it as Mallory used a glove to grab the branding iron. The stick wasn't as hot as the logo itself that was attached onto the end of it; the glove looked more like a precautionary measure more that anything. And as Mallory approached with it, Ollie could see it. Red hot. Smoking.

Ollie could hear himself plead with Mallory for a second. "Please, don't do this, you don't have to do this, I'm a true follower, I swear!" he could hear himself beg from a second entity, from a glass wall outside of himself and far, far from here.

None of it worked—how could it have?—because the iron was pressed against his arm anyway.

To say it hurt was an understatement. It was only a good four seconds the iron had made contact with Ollie's skin, but it felt like a lifetime. He yelped at the first contact— the first contact was the worst part, making a pop sound as he yelled and brought tears to his eyes— and when he gripped Yara's hand with a death grip, flinching around a bit at it, the pain went away. Frying the nerve endings in that part of his arm, he knew and heard. Like the sound of something sizzling on a pan. That's what happens when you get burned like that.

The smell was the worst part. Ollie would never forget the smell of his burning flesh. It was one of those things that would be forever seared into his mind, irreparable.

It was so bad it was almost a taste. He could never find anything to compare it with. Like a smell of blood, or rotting meat, or burnt hair, or burning plastic— all mixed together, all trying to form some horrid fucking scent he'd never forget again in his life. Ollie was sure that the fear and heightened fight-or-flight was what made it hurt so much more than it actually did, because after those few seconds, it was over. Ollie was left with erratic breathing and tears streaming down his cheeks, making this whimpering sort of cry as he did. His lip quivered, and Yara was there soothing him, holding his hand and whispering to him.

Ollie didn't look down at it. He shut his eyes tight, he didn't want to process or accept at all what had just been done to him. He could feel Mallory apply something to the new wound as it secreted a gross plasma, putting on some kind of salve or something, and wrap it in cling wrap. And that was it.

It didn't feel like enough. Everything that had been done for the experience Ollie had just gone through felt so... little. Everything was still living, and breathing, and moving, and Ollie hadn't even processed any of it yet.

Why did everything get to keep going right now?

"You did so good," Mallory praised as he watched Ollie cry— out of pain, but also mostly frustration. He hated how he let this happen to himself. This was horrible, this was inhumane. He just wanted to go see Jasper right now, or Henry. He'd say Sovi, but he knew it wasn't an option. He wanted to melt into their arms, spill everything and make them accept the fact he couldn't do this anymore. That he just needed to go home.

How disappointed would the people he loved be if they saw Ollie like this?

Saw Ollie letting it happen?

"Yara, untie him," Mallory muttered as he kneeled in front of Ollie the same way he had earlier. Stop it, he wanted to seeth. Yell, scream. Stop doing that, stop trying to help me. Look at me, look at me truly, what have you done to me? What have you done?

"I am so proud of you, Orion," Mallory soothed, cupping Ollie's face in his hands and wiping a tear away with his thumb. Ollie wanted to spit in his face.

"You don't see it now, but you are a true child of Osiris."

Like fuck I am.

"You don't see it, but so many would kill to be in the position you are in right now. To be so connected and interlinked with those above. You have been reborn into a new person, a Next Life awaits you. And I promise you, it's worth it. You're a true believer— it will all be worth it for you.

Ollie nodded, sniffling a bit and trying to overcome to overwhelming urge to bitchslap this man now that his hands were free. He did take the opportunity to move Mallory's hands down from his face—fuck, it hurt to move that arm—and hold them, squeezing them tight and feigning affection.

"Thank you," he whispered through the tears, and Mallory smiled. A look Ollie wished he could get rid of so bad— a look that told Ollie he had no remorse. That this wasn't even remotely bad to him. This was just a step to Ollie's better connection with his newfound God and if it were by Ollie, he'd send himself to eternal damnation by now.

Even when everything was so spinning and confusing, he knew one thing for certain; this was fucking revolting.

It was all he could think about as Yara untied him and got him out of the lounge room. It felt like leaving as a different person. Even if everything Mallory had said was wrong, he was right about one thing; he had been reborn in that room tonight. A new person, but not in the way he would have ever wanted.

The walk with Yara was horrid. She'd lent him her jacket—a sage green zip-up with a rhinestone cross outlined on the chest—and under any other circumstances, Ollie might have appreciated it. Now, it just made him feel alone.

As they walked, Yara didn't really dare to say anything. She'd just seen her new friend in one of his most vulnerable moments since she's known him— fuck, one of the most vulnerable moments of his entire life. How was she even supposed to soothe him? Even if it was for the greater good, even if it was for the better, what was she meant to say to him? What was supposed to be said to aid him through it all?

"You turned the wrong corner," Ollie mumbled after a long bout of silence, making Yara turn to look at him. He hoped he didn't have to repeat it.

"Huh?"

"The corner," he repeated, not looking up at her. The taste of his flesh still sat foul in his mouth. Even if he certainly hadn't eaten any of that bullshit, it had been so strong that the oxygen intake only reminded him worse of how the smell lingered on his tongue. Reminiscent of what bit he'd let himself lose for this mission.

He stopped for a second, as if waiting for Yara to turn back with him. Yara stopped with him.

"You're supposed to turn right."

...?

What?

Oh!

Yara smiled a bit as she came to the realization of what Ollie was trying to say, giving a huff of laughter. Ollie gave a confused expression.

"We're not going to your place," she said, still with that look on her face. "We're going to mine."

"But- my place-- I mean, Henry-"

"I can explain to him where you've been."

*Huh?*

Ollie's brows furrowed a bit more now, genuinely conflicted. Almost angry. He wanted to be home— he needed to be home right now. That was the only safe place right now. His things, his family, his kid—

"You're just gonna... explain?"

"Yeah."

"You're going to explain to them how you let Mallory brand me while you watched," he deadpanned. "You think they're gonna be fucking fine with that?"

"Calm down.-"

"You don't get to tell me to calm down right now- you just let them fucking brand me!" Ollie exclaimed, tears stinging his eyes as he gestured somewhere further behind them, referencing the mall.

"And you stood there and watched, and it happened because I trusted you! I came with you because you said I'd be safe! You said I'd be safe with you, and now I'm really starting to doubt th—"

"Orion!"

Ollie paused at being cut off like that, fists curling. Yara stared at Ollie for a second, looking completely mad yet also... concerned for him. Like Ollie was saying something so wrong it was crazy, and that's exactly what she thought. It made him feel stupid, almost.

"Do you think they're going to be the ones to keep you safe after this?" She snapped, gesturing to the right— to Ollie's home.

"Do you think they're going to accept you now? Accept us?"

"Why wouldn't they?"

"Because the outsiders don't understand like we do! They don't fucking get it! They don't get you, and they don't get me, or Mallory, or anyone. Because people think we're crazy and honestly, I don't want to go back to that. I don't think I can go back to that!"

"You don't know them like I do," Ollie spat. "You don't know my family like I do."

"I used to think that too. I used to think that all I ever wanted was to keep my family safe in this godforsaken city. And I found Mallory, and I knew this was it. This was my key to helping them with anything they might need, because I knew them, right? I knew them better than anyone else! And then they fucking kicked me out for this. Called me crazy. Said there wasn't such thing as a Final Abolishment, that I was just gonna drag them under."

Yara took a breath. If Ollie had known better, he'd tell her that her parents were right.

"You don't- people don't like us out there, okay? People aren't like us. If they see that on your arm, if they see who you really are, they're going to ostracize you. And living on the streets in this city is bad, Orion. I'm saving you. I'm keeping you safe. That's why I asked you to pack your shit— trust me, they don't want you back."

Ollie paused. He contemplated the whole monologue— it's what Henry would do. It's what Henry would have wanted of him. To keep the mission alive, he could practically hear in the back of his head. Whatever it takes to keep this mission alive.

He nodded.

"What about Charlie?" he asked, and Yara gave a confused look.

"Who?"

"Charlie. My kid."

A silence.

"You have a-"

"I adopted her?"

More silence.

"Yara, my- she went to the Community Center? It's why I started going? Because she did??"

"Ooohh! Oh, I'll take care of it, don't worry."

Ollie's brows furrowed a bit, and he took a step forward.

"You're not going to just 'take care of it,'" he began, making Yara sort of look at him.

"You're going to bring her to me. If I'm really going to stay with you and not look back, if I'm really going to trust you in my Next Life, you're going to bring me my fucking kid."

"Okay. Okay, I'll bring you Charlie. But you have to come with me. Deal?"

He contemplated it. Something in the back of his head told him this wasn't the right choice. This was the worst possible option, this was walking into a series of traps upon traps— he had to call Sovi. Right now, the move was to call Sovilo and go home. There was a way out of this, and the way out was right now.

Still, Ollie shook Yara's hand.

"Deal."

It might have been the worst decision he's made in his entire life.

[mdhwrites]

Okay, Let’s Eviscerate Luz’s Nightmare

I REALLY like dream sequences and false reality. I think there’s a lot that can be done with it that creatively is admittedly hard to do. It’s why I wanted to do a Jumbled Thoughts on it. The format for Jumbled Thoughts is to be approachable to those who aren’t familiar with the work being used as an example though and genuinely are just for teaching.

I am still genuinely upset though that the show had such little of a fucking clue what to do about wrapping itself up that it wastes the FIRST SEVEN MINUTES OF ITS FINALE. So this is just going to be me ranting more about why this sequence is bad but with more specifics to TOH. Specifically starting with: Even if it were good... It’d be rendering the two specials before it pointless. As far as characters go, especially ones the writers care about, the last two specials have been entirely about Luz’s self hate. I don’t think it’s done well mind you, it leads to character assassination for her and a finish that is laughable at best in context with the rest of the show, but that is the point of the two specials. Luz’s guilt over Belos. In special 1, it’s about how deep her self hate runs and the ‘sacrifices’ she’s willing to make to ‘make up for it’. As anyone familiar with this blog knows, I see what Luz does much more as “Oh, I can’t easily fix this? Fuck it then. Let them all burn.” But the writers think otherwise despite Luz’s actions. Special 2 is about Luz finally coming to terms with this and realizing she doesn’t have to give a fuck because she is the most special thing on the planet and everyone should understand that.

So we had a resolution. It led directly to Stringbean existing because she suddenly had clarity of purpose and shed that which was holding her back. But... This sequence HINGES on the idea that Luz isn’t past that stuff. Frankly, it would have made a MUCH better opener to the second episode where the Collector grabs them IMMEDIATELY. Not only would the transition be less awkward because... Oh my god the finale starts in just a terrible fucking way that despite following up literally where the last episode left off, feels like a “Here’s what you missed on the last episode of The Owl House!” That may be because I still haven’t watched the majority of S3. You can thank my Discord for me watching these seven minutes.

Anyways, not only would the portal act as a good, disorienting transition to make the audience think something went wrong with it instead of everyone immediately just knowing it’s a dream because... Duh, it also would have meant that Luz would be attacked by her friends when emotionally she was the most vulnerable. She doesn’t think her going back is a good idea after all. If the first thing she remembers post going through the portal is this nightmare where the whole is vacant and dead except for those she just brought to it... That would have actually had literally any reason to work. The words would cut much deeper because they are genuinely what she’s thinking. Instead... It feels like the main character’s character arc gets unearthed again for a shitty dream sequence. WHAT!?

And I want to make this clear: It’s BAD. It’s bad even compared to other bad dream sequences. At least most have the dignity to be like Zuko’s fever dream where it’s literally just a shocking moment and move on. But like... How shocking is anything in this sequence? Amity and Willow get out attacks I guess but otherwise the imagery is REALLY tame and the impossible space stuff is as basic as it comes. Otherwise, everyone is saying really blunt, obviously not them lines so you can’t really invest in what they’re saying. It only cuts (because I’ll admit it got an emotional rise out of me) because what is being said is so cruel. They’re lines that if they were true to the characters’ views AT ALL, then they’d be really powerful.

But they’re not. Most of them are just based on “YOU DESTROYED OUR WORLD!” a concept all of them immediately forgave, or just ignored, the second it was brought up to them. None of them care and have made that clear to Luz and Luz isn’t in a part of even her grief cycle to still be telling herself lies about this being the real truth that her friends are just hiding from her. It’s not helped by the fact that it’s the same bullshit we’ve been hearing from Luz already so even if it were actually Luz, it wouldn’t be new insight, just like how “Willow represses anger” isn’t a new insight in Understanding Willow (another really boring episode in terms of a mentalscape frankly.) The only person who MAYBE has their real feelings here is Hunter but he’s just stating a problem I have in general with Flapjack’s death. Why DID Luz get a palisman while Hunter’s had to die? What was the point? You know, besides cheap shock and giving Hunter magic so you didn’t have to worry about him having a staff anymore.

The resolution is also dogshit to me and way more twee than The Owl House ever does which makes what would be groan worthy in a different kid’s cartoon just pure cringe in the worst ways here. “What do you do after a bad dream? Turn on a light.” So... If Luz had cast a light spell while fighting them, would the whole thing have vanished regardless? Usually the fight for getting out of a dreamscape is one of the most compelling elements. What makes the hero hesitate, what sets them off for this being wrong, etc. like that. It’s part of what makes Superman still comforting his dream son so powerful because despite him not existing... Superman still cares. Because that is the core of Superman. ALL living beings matter to him.

This says fuck and all about Luz except that she’s a gatekeeping bitch of a nerd. Despite being in tears, for almost no reasons since the show does not sell that she actually thinks this is real (and again, from a narrative standpoint it makes the second special feel even more pointless if these words still effect her. NARRATIVE PAYOFF! LEARN WHAT IT IS!), she still immediately catches the mistake and bounces back to 100%. It’s... Honestly embarrassing from a writing standpoint. It says so many terrible things about Luz while also not saying much interesting. Yeah, Azura apparently really is that big to her that even during a breakdown with her friends, all it takes is her gatekeeper and continuity senses to go off to get her to write them all off. What would happen if Amity had to just admit it’d been a year since she read the book and just got the reference wrong?

As a note, the moment of Luz touching Amity’s face was the only clip of this sequence I’d seen before last night. Even then, I knew something was fucked here. Luz playing with Amity’s face feels like when a player character in a story about a game suddenly gains sentience. The other NPCs literally can’t process what they’re doing so Luz gets to just play with this Amity toy who should ostensibly be trying to kill her but has enough honor to wait for Luz to arm herself apparently.

Then the REST OF THEM WAKE UP. WHY!? WHY ARE THEY ACTUALLY ABLE TO EFFECT THIS!? Also... Does that mean Amity just got the reference wrong? Or did she do it on purpose? Why could she give Luz a glyph to cast? Why do they have that much power here? It’s just such a dumb twist that exists only to get the stupid line out of Hunter while he still sounds like he’s under mind control because of how unnatural the delivery of the advice is.

And this also of course means that Luz gets out without effort. Without anything. I’ve seen people call this trailer bait and I really just can’t blame them for it. It’s seven minutes of trailer bait though. Of an episode that’s only 52 minutes long and has two villains to actually take out still. That... Why? Why is that how you decided to start your finale.

It also brings the comparisons people would make between Marcy and Luz right to the forefront. Marcy had a dream sequence after all. Its imagery was more fun though and had more of a point and was HEARTBREAKING in that by being so idealic... That’s how Marcy knew it was fake. That one moment tells us SO MUCH of how she saw her role in the trio that we didn’t really know before. And the fact that she stayed trapped, having to hope others, others she thinks don’t care about her, will come save her makes it all a fucking tragedy. It’s really powerful and would not have been half as effective without being a dream sequence of sorts.

And as always... When TOH does something like Amphibia, it copies the really shallow, loud parts without understanding why Amphibia was doing it the way it did it. It makes the show look like a joke in comparison.

Which is why I’m not actually surprised people haven’t asked me about this sequence. It’s bad. It’s REALLY bad, which is probably why most people even on Twitter don’t talk about it. Not when you have the deux ex machina to gush over close to it. It’s bad in all the ways that you expect a dream sequence to be bad. It’s there for shock, it says very little about the characters and you could cut it and lose almost nothing, if just nothing. If I didn’t like dream sequences, I wouldn’t have anything to talk about here.

It makes it ‘of a kind’ which is why I used it to teach. And... Being ‘of a kind’ for being bad, especially when it actively goes against the character growth you’ve been doing... Well, it’s one of the few times I would say “I could have written this better.” Mostly because as a director I would have looked at whoever pitched the idea and gone “We have a godlike child who likes to play games. Come up with an actual fucking GAME instead of this cheating bullshit.”

Because like Luz looking beat up at the beginning of Yesterday’s Lie, it’s all just writing cheats and excuses. Just this time no one bought because why would they? Most audiences expect a dream sequence to be bad so seeing it was all a lie for baiting the audience... Well, at least for once TOH didn’t try to subvert a fantasy trope, did they?

*sigh*

==========

I have a public Discord for any and all who want to join!

I also have an Amazon page for all of my original works in various forms of character focused romances from cute, teenage romance to erotica series of my past. I have an Ao3 for my fanfiction projects as well if that catches your fancy instead, If you want to hang out with me, I stream from time to time and love to chat with chat.

And finally a Twitter you can follow too!

[lucius-morningstar]

Idea set in stone (Part 2)

Continuing here from this post here because Tumblr has a limit for how much I can write. Anyway. Continuing:

Episode 5: The favor comes into play (What it is yet I still don't know) but it mostly is in his opinion the fates basically giving him a hall pass. Hearing his dad is coming to the hotel he ultimately ditches sending an apology to Charlie and no one else. Clara decides since he's free for a day she'll take in that favor and much like how Charlie and Luciifer break ground so do Clara and Lucius. He admits that there is nothing he can say or do to fix what he said but he never truly stopped caring for her or her family. He'd check on her constantly and with Vaggie he felt more inclined too because Charlie just didn't need him as much as she had. It gave him a reason to check more, he even admits his guilt ate away at him so much he'd attempted at contacting her before but of course guilt made him do the opposite. Clara does admit she could have told him things a lot sooner or at least waited a little longer for him to mourn before dropping that much baggage on him. Maybe things would have been different if they hadn't been going through their own emotional rings and hurdles though Clara doesn't really tell him what her emotional hurdle was it's kinda obvious to everyone but him at this point but there's a huge layer of tension that all but snapped and vanished after that talk leaving them a lot more comfortable and even vulnerable then before but comfortable with it.

Episode 6: This one kinda gives a reason why Lucius gives Vaggie a chance to tell Charlie the truth. He's actually in a far more happier mood, before heading off to heaven, he can be seen on his phone looking a lot happier or content then usual. He's not really focused on Vaggie's odd behavior entirely but her avoidance to go with Charlie doesn't slip past him entirely. So much so it is shown he does mention it to Clara before leaving. He even seems a bit nicer in heaven's gates.. To almost everyone for a bit anyway. Vaggie's reveal does anger Lucius but he is a bit more level headed and gives her a fair chance to reveal to Chalrie and tell her or he would. Of course that doesn't happen and Charlie is more or less aware that he knew if only for a short time being betrayed by two people she trusted kinda puts Lucius in an emotional ringer, by the end he does not respond to Clara's texts of concern.

Episode 7: He's responding vaguely but it's not really intentional. HIs head just isn't entirely there in it. He does talk to her for a moment but quickly hangs up upon seeing the green formatting glow that is sadly Alastor getting to Charlie in a moment everyone's guard was down. It angers him but he isn't sure where his anger is entirely directed. Charlie sends him with Vaggie to the Carmine compound to get answers despite not wanting to leave her with Alastor he doesn't really have a choice. He does kinda throw Vaggie under the bus in a sense blaming her and himself for daring to trust her for even a few minutes to be truthful finding it even more annoying that Vaggie won't even defend herself from his torrent of insults and blame shifting. His annoyance and anger is eventually directed at Clara when she admits to him that she was aware angels could be killed and had known for months. Leading to a bit of an explosive outburst where they reveal some shit that was super fucking obvious to everyone but him and maybe her in a sense. That anger is a bit drifted afterwards. Episode 8: During this point war is on the horizon and due to helping shift weapons back and forth, they're kinda forced to spend a lot more time together having to admit that while as awkward as it is feelings are there on both ends and Lucius being a bit of a drama king that he can "sometimes" be has an idea that some of them won't make it in that war and he could very well be one of them. If that was the case he wants to make sure nothing is left unsaid and the two disappear every now and again doing well.. it's left to interpretation but not really. By the end of season one it's basically hinted that there is way more then friendship between the two but he has yet to tell anyone not that it not obvious. -------

Bonus Joke/Possible Idea: (This won't be written because I don't have that kind of confidence to write smut)

I did have a small joke hinted that the two almost had sex the night before but the mood kinda died when Charlie and Vaggie were heard singing. (The fact is the sex happens anyway, as the moment is spoiled but not entirely dead) Bonus 2: I do have a possible plan for Lucius gaining an ability, much like Lucifer himself, Lucius gains a rather fiery ability one that not only harms sinners but winners as well (Well more those souls who are tainted so exorcists are effected by this fire. I am stuck between the name choices of Holy Hellfire or Heavenly Hellfire.

[punkshort]

I absolutely loved the recent chapter of Swept Away! The whole series is amazing, you're an incredible writer! I had a question and was wondering if you come up with an idea for a series, like this one where you have all your writing and ideas planned out, or do you write as you go? I've always been curious about the writing process if you didn't mind answering!! ❤️

Oh, thank you! You're making me blush, stop it 😚

My writing process is... sloppy, to put it nicely lol -

I know many writers usually have outlines. I typically come up with a very loose plot and a sub plot (plot in this one being 'Joel needs to win this land', sub plot being 'they fall in love while pretending to be in love') and then I daydream little situations (or events: examples such as the yacht or the art gallery. Sometimes that will be all I have in my outline 'chapter six: art gallery' and build it around a much broader arc in my head).

I tend to write fics that are approx 10 chapters in length. I start out with a chapter establishing the setting and characters. A couple more chapters building the relationships. Around the middle I'll usually write the first major smutty scene or romantic revelation, then the big angsty break in the story happens around chapter 7 or 8.

Then I spend the rest of the story fixing what I broke and making them kiss.

I guess to answer your question, I have a "general" idea of what will happen, but very often I will write as I go. So for the art gallery in chapter six, I knew I needed to make them push the boundaries of their relationship further and I wanted to emphasize Glenn's commitment to family, but that was as far as I had planned. The Ellie thing hit me literally as I wrote it. I never intended for Tammy to make a blatant move on Joel but I needed Joel and reader to get pissed at each other so the tension could mount even more and break at the end (plus everyone hated her so much, I wanted to giggle at your reactions to it).

Of course, not all my stories follow that exact format (I'm looking at you, Roommates, where they were fucking pretty much the entire time, or IKWYA where there was zero smut until the very end). I think it's just a timeline I picked up from watching too many movies 🤣

I think everyone's process is different based on how they operate, as well. Some people like having every detail planned out because it helps keep them on track, I've found it tends to hold me back so I keep it loosey goosey.

I hope you enjoyed this journey through my weird brain, and thank you for your question ❤️

[i-can-even-burn-salad]

Happy STS Elli!

Let's talk about editing! What is your process for editing? Do you do everything yourself or do you have beta readers (or other helpers?). How much do you edit and polish your story before you let other people see it? Do you tend to edit chapter per chapter or do you prefer finishing the entire story first and then edit the finished story?

Happy STS, Ari!

Why can't we be talking about something nice? Let's not talk about editing! We could talk about flowers, or kitties, or...

(I'm joking. I am suffering through needing to edit two things, so instead obviously I went back to something else that has less chance to drive me to set myself on fire.)

I do have two people who look over (almost) everything I write, fixing my abhorrent misuse of prepositions and snacking on all my ands, hads, and thats. Those people can usually see everything I write the moment I am done. I have occasionally looked for other beta readers, because it's harder for those two to notice if something is unclear, because I have dragged them kicking and screaming through the whole creation process :D

I don't use any kind of software other than the regular spellcheck (it's bad) of gdocs. I always wanted to look at some like Grammarly and PWA, but uhhhh... I've been lazy, and thanks to AI fucking up the suggestions, I'm not sure that's the way to go anymore.

So it's mostly using a list of phrases I know use too often, looking at flow and sentence starters/structure, praying I guess the commas right, and fixing whatever else someone reading might have noticed.

For Glass Shards and other pieces I posted chapter by chapter, I obviously had to edit them before the whole thing was done. I am moderately unhappy about a handful of continuation "errors" that way, which is one of the reasons I won't continue that format.

Otherwise, I don't give a single crap about all the advice telling you never to edit in the first draft. I don't usually go back to edit, but I can get stuck on a line for ages because it's not right yet. And sometimes, I have time to "edit" when I don't have time to write, for example on the tram or in bed. I hate writing on my phone, but I can read what I wrote and leave little notes.

The first read-through comes when I am done, fixing all notes I left and the most obvious crap, and then again a few weeks later. As for the last one - I don't know, haven't arrived there yet.

[riftwalker-limbro]

well apparently angst is in the air today and it bit me too so

i've always examined vince vs jay from his own perspective but what do pule and verica even think.

edit post-writing this: oh this is a hot pile of half-formatted brain vomit. click the read more at your own risk. my goal was to get my thoughts straight, and i did, and now this is a mess and i'm not fucking fixing it

pule did his grieving while he was still human, i think. he never did expect to see jay again, but once he remembers the worst period of his fucking life while sitting next to the two (well, 1.9) people who notable weren't there for it, it's... well, a shock is putting it lightly, i imagine. they know his name, they have the right vibes that, despite the fact he'd never felt them as human like he could now as a warframe with transference, just fit - mostly. not all of it is correct, but enough is, and the second he manages to ask if it's jay, he gets swiftly but gently corrected, that, well, yes, but also it's vince now.

once he finds out Why it's vince now, pule struggles hard with being confronted with the walking, breathing truth of accidentally getting his best friend actually killed for a while still. part of the grieving process gets reset entirely, and as friend fashion show has pointed out so excellently, it does do pule a lot of good to hang out a lot with others (bruiser, notably) that he doesn't have a painful shared past with. the threads he dropped with jay are easy to pick back up with vince, though: sharing old jokes and making new ones referencing stuff only they know, ways of thinking that are still almost identical after years of close friendship, etc. they grew together for a significant formative period of their lives, and that still affects just how suited to be each other's friend they are.

verica has a more complex headspace around this. she actively searched for him, knowing that he hadn't died but instead had become a warframe, even though he stopped pinging on the orokin radars even before she got apprehended and warframe'd herself. there's such a huge chance that he's dead, but dammit, if anyone can do the impossible, it should be the mathematician who'd managed to put a pencil into a pocket dimension between solid reality & the poisonous void. and she's... partially right.

when she wakes up on kelth's orbiter, she's going to think the idiot before her is jay. he'd done it, he'd managed to come back from the dead, and found her scattered clues. and, well, we know it isn't really jay anymore. he doesn't even confess the whole thing, at first - he just says, well, i go by vince now. and she rolls with it completely because why wouldn't she. it's only when the cracks start to show, both in his behaviour and in one certain scene between the three of them that i'm sure i'll die two and a half times while writing before i'll get it just right, that she actually realises that Nope, Not Jay. Not Like That Anymore.

she struggles with even just accepting it in her head, at first - he's so much like jay, pinging Correct in so many little ways, but he's Not, calling him by that name hurts him, and thinking of him as jay is wrong for the person vince is now. she goes through the period of grief she hadn't allowed herself even before everything.

and now, all three of them are in the same space, grieving the shit that happened to them, that one of them had to die, but at least they now have each other again. for reasons mentioned before, bonds with vince are built up extremely fast, and they quickly get to the same level of friendship they were at with jay. they go beyond, even - vince needs them more than jay did, even if he might not want to phrase it like that to not force them into anything, but they respond to it in kind. one of the consequences of the way warframes are fundamentally changed, made more rigid and less flexible, from humans in my lore makes it so that they will seek out familiarity at ridiculous costs. removing the memories from fresh frames was a fix for that by the orokin, but you can't just make something Rigid/Inflexible, apply a Change, and expect it to not eventually pop back into its original shape like memory foam.

pule & verica is also an interesting initial dynamic, i think. pule feels guilty for, well, everything - he's still under the impression that he'd gotten ghosted for life, and the fact that the warframe he'd been glaring at from the corner of his eyes, the one that had looked way too much like the recently-vanished artist octavia to be anything like a respectful tribute, had actually been her all along and he hadn't even bothered to look into it- he does struggle with it. of her own part, verica's shocked to see him at all, didn't realise that he'd whole ass up and volunteer for the program if she also disappeared, didn't realise that sitting down and letting herself grieve with him had also been an option. i imagine she does also initially carry some guilt over this, though she gets over hers significantly faster than pule does, both because it's just Less Significant Levels of Guilt & because she's just way more prone to Alright Oops Let's Move On than he is (hi. musician who's been in public about it here. making mistakes & moving on like nothing happened is a Necessary & Learned Skill. show must go on & all that)

i think pule would initially expect her to be hostile towards him, after he gets over the shock of "holy shit you're a warframe too? holy shit you're That Warframe? i was never ghosted on purpose??". but 1. even if she did have the right to get hostile, which she knows she doesn't, it wouldn't do anything, and 2. buddy friend we're still here after everything why would i be mad about getting this second chance at life. i've already lost my other friends and family and everything from that life, just let me hang on to you and this other idiot with all the strength left in me.

anyway, that's how the three of them become inseparable on an almost-physical level. a true triad. they get a shared bedroom and sleep together in a pile and everything. you'll find out

[nightmares-like-thunder]

I was going to rant on the tags but i got fired up writing them so here goes instead

I'm taking a class on comprehension and production of scientific texts and we're studying a paper about why university students can't write and it argues that students hate writing because during their formative years the education system never gave them the tools to understand texts and write correctly, it was more of a "oh just focus on the content and you'll learn the format later, in the next grade" but then they were never taught and so students get to college and they have to do research or a thesis or long writing assignments and theyre evaluated on something that was never taught to them, so they struggle

And so in class we're arguing about this and chat gpt comes up and students say "hey i love that thing", bc of course people invented the machine-that-writes-what-i-tell-it-to-write, and not only does it do the work for them but it also fixes what they write so they assume this is foolproof, but they dont have the ability to distinguish something that is well-written from something that isn't, and teachers honestly dont have the time to proofread every single assignment so they get away with it

So what at first was "i know the content but i dont know how to write it" becomes "i dont need the content because something else is already going to write it for me" and so they stop learning altogether, theyre not reading or writing or taking notes because they have the school-machine right there in their phones

It's extremely frustrating because they see reading and writing and something that they need to do for the teacher instead of for themselves, like dude idk how to explain to you that the teacher already knows this stuff, youre the one that needs to learn this, you signed up for this degree voluntarily (and im an astronomy student, research is the entire purpose of the field), and they get defensive saying like "what so am i just supposed to fail if i cant write a paper?" YES FOR FUCKS SAKE IF YOU CANT PUT YOUR THOUGHTS INTO WORDS YOU NEED TO TAKE CORRECTIVE ACTION, YOU NEED TO LEARN HOW TO READ AND WRITE AND DO RESEARCH BECAUSE THIS IS SUPPOSED TO BE INTERESTING FOR YOU

It's simply fucked up how people are okay with not being able to read or learn through anything that is not a teacher talking to them like theyre 5, or now, a tiktok with subway surfers playing on the back while AI reads a reddit post, like fr youd realize that your degree is extremely interesting if you had the willingness to get a little bored and a little frustrated

The teacher said she struggles to find papers that are short enough for us to analyze in class because she knows we can only read a few pages and anything too long will just be put through chat gpt and summarized, so the longest thing we've read has been around 12 pages

People who cannot read more than 12 pages are reaching college level classes and forcing teachers to dumb down their content bc if they failed everyone (AS THEY SHOULD) it could jeopardize their jobs

This is,,, more than ever,,, the bad place

do you have any ideas about why so many students are struggling with literacy now? I know that illiteracy and reading comprehension have been issues for years and most americans read at like a 5th grade reading level but I’m curious why it seems to be worse now (pandemic? no child left behind?)

It is everything. There’s not one answer. I could talk about this forever so instead I set a five minute timer on my phone and wrote a list of as many of the many things that are causing this on a systemic level that I could think of:

It’s parents not reading with their kids (a privilege, but some parents have that privilege to be able to do this and don’t.)

It’s youtube from birth and never being bored.

It’s phasing out phonics for sight words (memorizing without understanding sounds or meaning) in elementary schools in the early aughts.

It’s defunding public libraries that do all the community and youth outreach.

It’s NCLB and mandating standardized tests which center reading short passages as opposed to longform texts so students don’t build up the endurance or comprehension skills.

It’s NCLB preventing schools from holding students back if they lack the literacy skills to move onto the next grade because they can’t be left behind so they’re passed on.

It’s the chronic underfunding of ESL and Special Ed programs for students who need extra literacy support.

It’s the cultural devaluing of the humanities in favor of stem and business because those make more money which leads to a lot of students to completely disregard reading and writing.

It’s the learning loss from covid.

It’s covid trauma manifesting in a lot of students as learned helplessness, or an inability to “figure things out” or push through adversity to complete challenging tasks independently, especially reading difficult texts.

It’s covid normalizing cheating and copying.

It’s increasing phone use.

It’s damage to attention span exacerbated by increased phone use that leaves you without an ability to sit and be bored ever without 2-3 forms of constant stimulation.

It’s shortform video becoming the predominant form of social media content as opposed to anything text-based.

It’s starting to also be generative AI.

It’s the book bans.

what did I miss.

[defiantscribe]

Trouble with Getting in a Routine

Well, I find myself needing some kind of outlet as I just don't know how to honestly express myself in any other format other than rambling to a notepad via keyboard.

So here goes.

I've been struggling with my job lately. Nothing in particular is wrong with it, I just hate it. I don't like having to be at someone's beck and call and deal with dumb shit in order to live. I've always been a whiner about my need to have a job. I've never liked having a job, I would really rather not have a job. If I could have a large sum of money that I was in charge of just trying to organize/maintain a comfortable existence, that would be the best course for me. I just do not like having to fit into this mold of being a worker.

Never have, never will. I feel almost like an artist with no art. That when I want to create or contribute, I will, otherwise, let me brood until that time comes.

Granted, a lot of how I operate, function and perform in life would need to drastically change for that kind of thing to improve or even happen, but it's ideally what I want. I just hate having to be somewhere at a particular time to do things just to have the comfort of living well. It's a balls mentality. Not that it's not necessary, mind you, I just don't like the idea of it.

Worst part about it is that I'm good at what I do, but I just don't like doing it. I don't wanna deal with people all day long. I would much rather have a job where I'm in charge of doing stuff off hours, non-customer related that I could just plug in my headphones and knock the fuck out and move onto the next thing at my own pace. I don't like being on phones, I don't like talking with people, I don't like any of it.

I am just so tired of feeling like I'm having to take on someone else's problems.

I've done that for a long time, I'm tired of doing it.

Whine over, back to work.

Still working, but felt like typing more since I was going somewhere with this, but didn't. I believe I've fallen into a bad pattern of internet usage and viewing. I enjoy the things I watch and the content I consume, but I honestly feel that it's started to take control of my brain and I need to stop the pattern of misuse/abuse to get my brain back in order.

I find myself watching twitch streamers most of the day, consuming the lives of young people with massive amounts of "brain rot" and finding myself unable to turn away. I'm currently watching a collaboration between users right now as I type this. I had to turn the audio off so I could concentrate long enough to type this out because it's like being in an elevator with drunk sorority girls chattering their asses off the entire ride to the top of the Empire State building.

And then at night I find myself caught in an infinity scroll of doom in Youtube shorts. It's quick little hits of dopamine like this that cause me to not fall asleep at a decent time. I find myself taking naps at weird times, sleeping through alarms and having a general sense of discord towards the things that should matter in my own life for the sake of consuming content from others.

And this is problematic.

I don't feel good while consuming it, I find myself chainsmoking while just scrolling and trying to think of ways I could be in this workspace and how to break into shit like this.

Honestly…. I want to sorta be in this space, but the other side is I would REALLY rather not. I just need to get my own personal health in check. I'm not taking meds or doing treatments like I should be and the only person to blame is myself, yet I'm not changing what I'm doing to make this work. I need to get my diabetes in check, I need to stop smoking, I need to fix my fucking body, but I keep finding ways of avoiding it and then complaining about how much I hurt or how frustrated or defeated I am by it. I'm my own worst enemy and I need to stop.

So, I plan on just start cutting my "leisure internet" consumption back severely in an attempt of finding other ways of occupying my time and focusing on making better choices or getting those things I've constantly been putting off taken care of.

Here's hoping cause if this doesn't work, I really don't know what I'm going to do moving forward, if I can even move forward.

[littleryden]

tag thing

so i was tagged by @xkilljoy-unicornx thank u i love these im v conceited and i love to talk about myself but no one cares lmao

LAST: [1] drink: water 2] phone call: @adamdoesdoodles [3] text message: @adamdoesdoodles [4] song you listened to: the church of hot addiction by cobra starship [5] time you cried: earlier today HAVE YOU EVER… [6] dated someone twice: yes rip [7] been cheated on: yup [8] kissed someone and regretted it: y e s [9] lost someone special: yes [10] been depressed: um of course ?? [11] gotten drunk and thrown up: nah thank god LIST 3 FAVOURITE COLOURS: [12] red [13] grey [14] pastel blue IN THE LAST YEAR HAVE YOU… [15] made new friends: yes [16] fallen out of love: yes [17] laughed until you cried: yes [18] found out someone was talking about you: yah [19] met someone who changed you: yeah 20] found out who your true friends are: yes [21] kissed someone on your facebook list: i literally don’t use facebook [22] how many of your facebook friends do you know in real life: i don’t even know i haven’t used facebook in over two years [23] do you have any pets: not really [24] do you want to change your name: Y E S [25] what did you do for your last birthday: nothing at all tbh [26] what time did you wake up: 10:19am [27] what were you doing at midnight last night: tumblr [28] name something you cannot wait for: meeting adam [29] when was the last time you saw your mother: im sitting in front of her on the floor as i type this [30] what is one thing you wish you could change about your life: the way i was raised [31] what are you listening to right now: my niece and nephew screeching my birthname [32] have you ever talked to a person named tom: yeah man that’s my grandpa [33] something that is getting on your nerves: my dad ft. literally everything [34] most visited website: tumblr [35] elementary: yes [36] high school: yes [37] college: idk [38] hair color: silver n purple [39] long or short hair: short [40] do you have a crush on someone: hell fuckin yes [41] what do you like about yourself?: my boyfriend [42] piercings: ears gauged and i used to have my lip pierced in like 7th grade rip [43] blood type: a+ [44] nickname: ry [45] relationship status: taken by the best baby boy ever ever ever [46] zodiac sign: libra [47] pronouns: they/he [48] fav tv show: american horror story, the kitchen [49] tattoos: nah i had a stick n poke but it faded??? [50] right or left handed: right FIRST… [51] surgery: never had any [52] piercing: ears [53] best friend: some kid from my old daycare when i was 3 but i bit him and we stopped being friends [54] sport: soccer [55] vacation: the beach probably [56] pair of trainers: probably new balance or some shit idk. what abt crocs RIGHT NOW… [57] eating: leftover japanese [58] drinking: water [59] i’m about to: keep sitting here 60] listening to: san diego by blink-182 [61] waiting for: death [62] want: my boyfriend [63] get married: i wanna marry him [64] career: i just wanna draw WHICH IS BETTER… [65] hugs or kisses: kisses [66] lips or eyes: eyes [67] shorter or taller: taller [68] older or younger: older [69] romantic or spontaneous: spontaneous [70] nice arms or nice stomach: arms [71] sensitive or loud: sensitive [72] hook up or relationship: relationship 73] troublemaker or hesitant: troublemaker HAVE YOU EVER… [74] kissed a stranger? no [75] drank hard liquor? yes [76] lost glasses/contact lenses? all the goddamned time [77] turned someone down: yes [78] sex on first date? no thanks [79] broken someone’s heart? probably not [80] had your own heart broken? more than once 81] been arrested? nah [82] cried when someone died? no [83] fallen for a friend: yes DO YOU BELIEVE IN… [84] yourself? bitch have u met me???? no?? then i’m not real [85] miracles? nah [86] love at first sight? no [87] santa claus? no [88] kiss on the first date? maybe [89] angels? ME OTHER… [90] current best friend’s name: adam, kaycie [91] eye colour: blue [92] favourite movie: BEE MOVIE!!!!!!!!!!!!

i’m just. not gonna tag anyone???? because i don’t wanna be annoying but anyway if u wanna do it then go for it and say i tagged you so i can learn about u guys please

[snugglyporos]

// oh boy. time to get... nerdy.

Okay, DC and Marvel have basically the same problem and went in two different directions, so I'll explain the easier company first: Marvel. The core problem is that the 90s were a boom time, they made lots of money, the 90s ended, and the speculator bubble burst, and for the next two decades until Marvel movies literally resurrected comics in pop culture, no one had any good ideas as to how to fix this. They did have lots of bad ideas. First though, Marvel's bad ideas.

Marvel has been putting out awful crap since the early 2000s because of exactly two men: Bill Jemas and Joe Quesada. We'll start with Jemas, because he had control first, from roughly 2000 to 2010. A quick note, Jemas had no background in comics before he started working at Marvel; before that he worked for a company called Fleer Entertainment Group, whose main claim to fame is that it was the first company to ever manufacture bubble gum. More importantly, it manufactured trading cards, particularly sports ones. Five years after Jemas left, the company fell into bankruptcy and was liquidated. You know who owned Fleer though? Marvel! So now he's being promoted to Marvel!

Jemas however was brought into Marvel because, and people forget this, Marvel was literally about to go bankrupt in the late 90s. Jemas, to his credit, did in fact manage to make Marvel profitable by doing things like pushing trade paperbacks. But he also installed Joe Quesada into the company. And these two were behind such great ideas like Trouble (which is the lurid backstory of how Aunt May and Uncle Ben had sex and which also sorta made it canon that Uncle Ben fucked Spiderman's mom), and Marville, which is a horrific comic series where the writer literally gives up over the course of the book and just starts insulting the reader.

Jemas over the 2000s became the sort that interfered more and more in the creative side of things, despite not being a writer, and it got so bad that the executives at Marvel started getting genuinely pissed off. In particular, his ideas were so toxic and bad that they found they couldn't sell any of them to movie studios, but the final straw was that their business partner, Toy Biz, who merged with marvel and helped bring a lot of their action figures and toys in house, decided he was actively ruining their brand.

If you're curious what he was pitching, understand that he was pivotal in pushing more content onto Marvel's MAX brand, which are their 'adult oriented' comics. Given the fact that both Marville and Trouble are essentially sexual and reactionary stories, just imagine what right wing edgelords wish comics were and you'll have an idea. Or, you could just read Ultimate Spiderman going beyond volume 11, which he wrote despite not being a writer or knowing how to write well.

You could reasonably characterize his tenure as 'more profits through self immolation.' But he's just an executive who decided that it wasn't that hard to write comics. Joe Quesada is an entirely different story. Basically, the short version is that when Marvel filed for bankruptcy in 1998, he was brought on to write more things and try to get more creators to work with Marvel again. I'm not going into their ugly split with creators in the 90s and the formation of Image comics here though.

Basically, by bringing in Quesada, a creator, Marvel had a gateway to bring in such luminaries as Brian Micheal Bendis and Garth Ennis, two names which fill most comics fans with dread. But back in 2000, no one knew what would be happen. At the time, he was just the guy helping to write the Marvel Knights books! And then boom! Jemas is running the show, and that means two years after getting his job he's now editor in chief and has run of the place!

I want to point out that as bad as Quesada was, Marvel was already in the toilet. Again, in 1998 they filed bankruptcy. The editor he replaced, Bob Harras? That guy had this great idea to just cancel everything not at 100 issues, and restart them all over and over as #1 issues to try and create an artificial speculator market like there was in the 90s. And surprise, it didn't work.

So Quesada gets the editor position. What's he do? Well, for one he scraps Harras' idiot idea, and goes back to the right numbering. Two, he gives even more power to his Marvel Knights imprint, which is now focused on telling standalone stories, which was successful already. He pushes the MAX brand, which as I said is their adult themed and directed brand, and while I don't really have good things to say about it under Jemas, it was also successful. Also, it was partially run with Brian Micheal Bendis, who later comics readers would, I must remind you, begin to hate.

But what he did most was to launch Ultimates. And that really did well! Especially Spiderman. Everyone loved that. He found a way to make comics for new readers without fucking up old canon. It seemed good! Only he put Bendis and Mark Millar in charge of it, and well, that's a whole other story.

He also put a moritorium on killing and bringing back characters. A good thing! But the problem is that, well, there wasn't really a plan for what to do beyond all the stuff I've now talked about. And the plans that he came up with were... bad.

Spiderman One More Day? That's Quesada's idea. Quesada apparently decided that, well, people just hate stable relationships. You know what they love though? Politics. And not like, nuanced or thoughtful politics. Nah, we're getting straight up reactionary politics. You want to know why we get things like 'you know maybe Captain America was a nazi all along?' This guy.

I should point out that he stepped down as editor in chief in 2011. Except in 2010, a year before, he was made Chief Creative Officer, which meant that he might not be editing, but he controlled the canon. Basically every bad idea in Marvel's canon in the 2000s to 2019 comes down to this guy.

By the by, he was replaced by Kevin Feige, who you might know from his work turning Marvel into a pop culture Juggernaut by spearheading the MCU and literally making Marvel more popular and successful than ever. Comics haven't improved much, but we're not getting more reactionary bullshit, so I'm considering it a break even for now.

That's marvel. Let's talk DC. DC, unlike Marvel, was not facing bankruptcy. Instead it was facing a bigger crisis: a lack of ideas and direction while seeing profit. If Marvel was a dumpster fire, DC was a chicken with its head cut off, making a mess and bleeding everywhere and just kinda sad at the end when it wasn't horrifying.

Like Marvel, I drop the blame for DC's woes at the feet of one man: Geoff Johns. Spoiler: I hate this man. I will explain why. I am not without reason for using harsh terms. But first, backstory.

It's 1985. DC is a frankenstein's monster of different canons, because the company is actually like ten different companies all merged together at different times and no one knows what is and is not canon. Because unlike Marvel, DC's big heroes were all made by different people, and different companies in some cases, there's no consistency. Crisis on Infinite Earths 'fixed' this.

I put fixed in quotes because it was both needed, and also broke everyone who wrote for DC. Because within four years, DC would launch its Elseworlds imprint, which was basically just the multiverse for guys like Alan Moore and Neil Gaiman, two guys who also helped to ruin comics in a general sense. But this isn't about them. They didn't do this intentionally. It's not their fault their ideas ended up being genres and everyone copied their homework.

So. It's now 2005. Twenty years have gone by since Crisis on Infinite Earths. It's mostly worked! But it's time for a big new event. And more importantly, DC decided it wanted the multiverse again. Keep in mind, Marvel just launched their Ultimate universe too, so this is not happening in a vacuum. Infinite Crisis isn't even that bad; and what came after, 52, was not that bad either. But it did cause panic inside DC.

Why? Because again, it's 2005. Comics are really in the toilet financially now that the 90s speculator boom is over. Marvel is making moves, and DC wants to make moves too. And more to the point, DC was creatively in the toilet. I mean we're dealing with ideas like 'Identity Crisis,' the story about how the Justice League mind wiping Batman and Doctor Light after Doctor Light r*ped Sue Dibny and it's just a bleak period.

Also, people did not like Infinite Crisis. They didn't like that DC brought back the multiverse. They didn't like that 52 was launched. They didn't like that DC was basically trying to shove their top three heroes to the side. Simply put, DC comics fans were not happy. Also, you know who wrote Infinite Crisis? Geoff Johns. I'm not blaming him for the reception, but this is important to note because of what happens next.

Johns is booted from the serious work of writing crossovers, and is banished to writing the Green Lantern mythos. He would, amazingly, do great at this because coming up with endless weird alien stuff and new lantern colors and all that stuff turned out to be just right for him. In a time when DC was putting out stuff like 'Amazons Attack' which basically tried to ruin Wonder Woman, Johns work is ironically a bright spot.

Because you see, as DC slipped deeper into fan disdain, they panicked even more. Dan Dido, thinking he had the solution, decided that the problem with Infinite Crisis wasn't that it was running counter to what DC fans wanted at the time, or that it was done without much of a plan, or that it shoved aside their three biggest names; no, the problem was that Infinite Crisis, and DC comics in general, was too optimistic.

So Dido grabs Grant Morrison and says 'write me a story if evil wins' and they came up with Final Crisis, and also Countdown to Final Crisis. These two are, unsurprisingly, some of the most maligned comics in DC's canon, alongside some stories we'll get to, and stories like the Killing Joke.

So now, DC is really in the shitter. It's basically unable to do anything right, no one in charge has any ideas, no one knows how to make comics fans happy. And during this point, someone noticed there was in fact one DC property doing well and making people happy: Green Lantern. See Johns run on Green Lantern, having introduced new lantern corps and stuff, was very well loved!

And so they were like 'okay, do more of this. Make a crossover.' And what he produced was Blackest Night, one of the best crossovers DC has ever done, in my opinion. It's unadulterated fun. I mean you got moments where major characters like Batman and Superman get to be lanterns and it's also got horror elements that work and honestly, it's just good.

And then they ruined it. See it did so well and generated so much positive buzz that they were like 'okay just put Johns in charge of DC creative' and uh... His next idea was Brightest Day, where the sheer weight of his nonsense began to literally crush the entire basis of the universe, because Johns is a lazy writer; he's great at coming up with new ideas but he doesn't do the hard work of filling in context, so everything begins to fall in on itself if left unchecked. When he was making up new stuff in space where there wasn't really canon, it was fine. When he was trying to explain that actually the lanterns are powered by space animals and the Earth is actually a sentient entity and a white lantern planet and all that it just falls apart.

But do not worry! Geoff Johns has a great plan to fix this! He'll just reboot canon entirely! Yes, in his infinite wisdom, the head of DC creative decided that the problem with DC canon was that there was too much canon! So it's time for Flashpoint, which just erased large swaths of DC lore that people liked. Fan favorite characters like Stephanie Brown? Gone. Fan favorite relationships between characters? Gone. Legacy characters? Gone. All of it replaced by an uncertain timeline where things like Batman having four robins apparently took place in under a year.

Oh, and it created The New 52, one of the most maligned runs of comics ever made. Johns literally went from his greatest triumph to an unmitigated disaster. And sadly for everyone else, it was all downhill from there.

The we got things like Forever Evil, which once again asked 'what if evil won?' Because that worked out so well for Final Crisis. But it also produced things like The Culling, which is what if we did Battle Royale with superheroes, and Death of the Family, which is just redoing A Death In The Family with a Joker without a face.

In case you're wondering how well this all went, Flashpoint was in 2012, and the DC Rebirth, which actively undid everything that happened in Flashpoint, was in 2016, meaning that his grand plan to just erase wide swaths of canon went so well it didn't even outlast him as head of creative.

Having now totally fucked canon, Johns then decided he wanted to do films! Like Marvel! He was executive producer on Green Lantern, Batman Vs. Superman, Suicide Squad, and Wonder Woman 1984, all movies which everyone hated, and for good reason.

At this point, DC decided that he needed to be placed somewhere with guard rails, like a child in a playpen. So they sent him to develop DC's TV shows, where people who worked in television could mitigate his worse ideas and mostly make it work. Though unsurprisingly, his terrible ideas leaked into shows like Flash, but he wasn't ruining DC anymore.

Well, aside from Doomsday Clock, which decided that actually Watchmen was now part of DC canon for reasons that no one understands but beyond THAT he was mostly pushed aside where he couldn't fuck everything up even more.

He was replaced in 2018 by Jim Lee; Jim Lee is luckily, not a shitty writer even if he's worked on absolutely awful stuff like All Star Batman and Robin. He's primarily an artist, which means he's got the good sense to let writers write and not try to do awful things.

However, a critique could be made that he has let guys like Scott Snyder have too much free reign, to the point where canon in DC has become an even more incomprehensible mess, because now we have two multiverses, each with its own matter, antimatter, and dark universes. He has, essentially, allowed the inmates to run the asylum. That's bad! But he's also only four years into his run, and some of the ideas are good, so we're going to hold judgement.

And well, we literally have Geoff Fucking Johns driving DC into a ditch and setting it on fire in comparison! So it probably can't be that bad. Hopefully!

Anyway, that's a brief overview of why DC and Marvel suck. Marvel's got two dude who think the future is the past and literally destroying your properties, and DC has a guy who literally cannot come up with a good idea once he's given total control over anything.

Shakespeare said that we should kill all the lawyers. Were I a billionaire who bought either company, I would fire all the writers. Because the companies are a mess when you realize what's happening under the hood.

See, that's the thing, I blame both company's best selling crossovers.

For DC it was 'Crisis on Infinite Earths' that basically taught them the wrong lesson that whenever they wanted they could press the restart button on the universe to fix minor shit, while for Marvel it was 'Civil war' which meant that they were going to make their heroes fight each other every 2 years just to remind you how bad they are at just talking.

And DC does it too in a minor way from time to time (Hi Cassandra's evil turn that everyone hated it) , but the way Marvel will just grab a hero that people like and either kill them like a chump or turn them into a villain it's...it's so annoying.

Like top of my head, Marvel has had how many comics of heroes fighting each other? Civil War, World War Hulk, Axis, Avengers vs Xmen, Inhumans vs Xmen, A.X.E.: Judgment Day, CIVIL WAR 2 ELECTRIC BOOGALOO.

[xocasper]

Into It

Pairing: Mikey Way x Reader Summary: Kinktober Day Two: Degradation Warnings: NSFW content Tags: jealous sex, degradation, humiliation kink, spit kink, face-fucking, choking kink, dirty talk, orgasm denial Word Count: 5270 A/N: my hands are blue. i am shaking. this is so unfinished but here. it’s 10:38. i am tired. i am drained. my italics didn’t work. i will fix all this shit tomorrow. enjoy for now while i go play in traffic xo Post Editing A/N: Thank you Chase Atlantic for the title, I literally cannot title this thing because it’s 99% horny. I have no fucking clue if there’s even plot. Is there? I’m scared to read it, honestly. Anyway, this is so much better with italics. Tumblr, please accept my formatting you dumb motherfucker.

Mikey had a jealous streak.

In addition to his many shining traits, ranging from talented and attractive, to considerate and charming, envy was one of his most prominent attributes. Typically, it stayed well hidden beneath his silence and sincerity, only breaking him down when you were involved. You figured it had sprung from his career or childhood, and how he had always lived in Gerard’s shadow. Despite his love for his brother, you all knew he could use more recognition than he was getting—the recognition that you gave him.

Around everyone else, Mikey kept his cool. Quiet and unbothered, he would usually ignore conflict, finding it to be a waste of time. You were different though; in fact, you were his.

He wasn’t wildly overprotective, letting you live independently without feeling the need to pounce on people. You were loyal, behaving as such around other guys, and they typically got the message. On the occasion that they didn’t, Mikey had no issue stepping in, sending them away with subtle PDA. And if that didn’t work, so help them, God, because his restraint would’ve been reduced to atoms by then.

His attitude never bothered you—in fact, you liked it, teasing him here and there and making jokes about his jealousy. While you habitually found the humor in it, there was a bigger reason behind it–when Mikey got jealous, he got mean. It was the type of mean that made the muscles in your abdomen wind tight, letting your head spin, and body grow hot as degradation rolled off his tongue. But as hot as it was, Mikey rarely acted like that, reserving his acrimony for his certain nights—and tonight would be one of them.

-

“What’s up?” Mikey asked, hearing your internal battle from across the kitchen.

He hadn’t looked up from the paperwork before him, having told you already that Gerard had tasked him with reading through it. You were on the other side of the room, swapping between the refrigerator and cabinets as you searched for something to eat. Plagued with boredom, rather than hunger, you were unsuccessful, but you continued the monotonous task anyway. Truthfully, you were waiting for Mikey to quit working—or at least take a break—after brushing you off the entire day.

Sighing, you turned back to face him. “We don’t have any food.”

He snorted, “Sure we do.”

Glumly, you walked over to his place at the table, met with a quick peck on the cheek as you plopped down next to him. He couldn’t be having any more fun than you, the pages covered in legal gibberish. As if on cue, he let out a soft sigh, continuing to read through the documents even if they made no sense to him.

“Don’t you have people to do this for you?” you asked, resting your head against his shoulder while you scanned each passage.

“That’s what I asked Gerard,” he said. “Apparently we need to know too, but you know how he is.”

You pressed a quick kiss to the corner of his mouth, watching it quirk up in response. “Well, I’m sure he’ll appreciate it.”

He gave a gentle hum and kissed your lips this time, pulling away just as soon to return to work. Disappointed, you gave a small frown, making him grin in response.

“What’s wrong?” he asked, amused, though his eyes stayed glued to the paper.

Chewing your lip and contemplating your answer, you settled on a classic, “Nothing.”

Mikey laughed again, not to antagonize, but at your stubbornness. “Your arms are crossed and you’re pouting—what’s up?”

“I’m bored,” you admitted, slouching in your seat.

Fortunately, he looked up at you, tilting his head and biting back another grin. “Do you want something to do,” he asked, leaning in again. “Or do you just want me?”

It was honest and arrogant, and he swelled with pride as you mumbled back, “You.”

Tilting your chin up, he pulled you forward, his lips meeting yours in a sinful fashion. It made up for how busy he had been this afternoon, tracing your bottom lip before catching it between his teeth. His fingers ran from your chin down your throat, wrapping them delicately around your neck as he kissed you. Mikey had turned the world into an illegible blur, kissing away your common sense while his hand pressed against your throat, warranting a desperate moan. Leaving you starry-eyed, his hand slipped down to your waist, and he pulled back ever so slightly.

With his lips still grazing yours, he teased you under his breath. “You’re so needy.”

He didn’t let you argue, catching your indignant huff with another kiss. It was softer this time, short and smooth until he broke apart, admiring your dazed expression. Much to your dismay, he had quickly returned to reading, though his attention was still centered on you.

“And if you’re still bored, Frank wants me to go to some party tonight.”

It was your turn to tease him, “You mean ‘Frank invited me and I want to go,’ right?”

He rolled his eyes playfully, a smile tugging at his lips. “Maybe.”

“And you want me to go with you?”

He nodded, humming softly. It was a no-brainer–parties were Mikey’s forte. They had always been how he got his kicks, finding strange solace in cheap beer and shitty music. He had built a reputation around them as well, gaining silly nicknames and becoming a notable figure in the scene. People expected him to show up, spotting him tipsy in a corner, making out with strangers while music shook the room. In fact, the words “Mikey” and “party” had become so closely tied that they had formed an alias a few years prior. And though he had grown out of his nicknames, losing his glasses and fuck boy reputation, he could never turn down an invite.

Luckily, you weren’t opposed to them, rarely hanging back when Mikey wanted to drag you to a random party thrown by a hazy acquaintance. You weren’t as lively as him, keeping your drinks to a minimum and chatting with strangers until he was ready to crash on the couch. That’s when you’d pull him away, laughing softly as he slung his arm around your shoulder, mumbling his love and gratitude while you helped him into the car. He could be a bit of a handful, but he would always make it up the next morning, the idea of sweet morning sex prompting your answer.

“Sure.”

-

The sound of the door shutting was an odd contrast to the muffled mix of music and yelling, cutting clearly through the air. As usual, Mikey walked around to your side, helping you out of the car and receiving a gentle smile in response. He was in a particularly good mood, undoubtedly happy to give his eyes a break after an afternoon of paperwork. You could practically feel him buzzing as he walked through the door, tugging you through a crowd of tipsy strangers in hopes of finding Frank. Unfortunately, you didn’t make it that far, as Mikey was quickly called over by an old friend. Surrounded by strangers, you had little choice but to follow him, glued to his side as they struck up a drawn-out conversation.

You weren’t typically this impatient, but after spending almost the whole day alone, you could hardly tolerate standing around. For fifteen minutes, you scuffed your shoes against the tile and swayed in his arms, tracing the lines on his palm while he continued to ignore you, too focused on his conversation. He wasn’t oblivious to your behavior–in fact, he found it entertaining, paying more attention than you thought. After a while, you turned around in his arms, pressing periodic kisses to his neck as if to remind him that you were still here. Just as he had that afternoon, he looked down at you, giving you another soft smile.

“My needy baby,” he cooed.

Again, you scowled at him, only making him smile wider. You had been patient all day, putting up with every “Later,” and “I’m almost done.” You knew he was messing around by calling you needy, but it was the equivalent of calling him jealous. He would vehemently deny it, and most of the time, he was right. But on occasion, envy would cloud his mind, and it became the only thing he could think of. Similarly, you could only think about him at the moment, so maybe he was right. And if wanted to ignore you, you just had to make him listen. Desperate times call for desperate measures, after all.

“Fine, I’ll go have fun without you,” you told him.

He laughed softly, kissing you on the forehead. “I’m sure you will.”

It wasn’t a challenge, but you took it as one anyway, slinking through the crowds the minute Mikey let you go. The only person you knew was Frank, and you hadn’t been able to properly look for him before. Despite the dim rooms and unnecessary amount of people, you’d be able to find him eventually. And if push came to shove, you could shamefully return to Mikey and spend the rest of your night in misery.

That could never happen with you though. Not if he had spent his whole day watching you whittle away, grinning to himself as you fought paperwork for a kiss or two. If there was any way to get his attention, it was to make him jealous, which wasn’t a hard feat at all. Thankfully, you spotted Frank just in time, watching as his friend was dragged off, leaving him alone.

“Frank!”

He could barely hear you over the stereo, calling your name back and waving you over. “Where’s lover boy?” he grinned, swirling his drink absentmindedly.

“He’s in the kitchen,” you answered, giving a frustrated sigh. “And he’s ignoring me.”

Frank laughed, “Yeah? What’d you do to deserve that?”

“Nothing, honestly.”

Even if you were telling the truth, you could still see his playful doubt. “Okay, what are you gonna do about it?”

“Make him jealous,” you smiled, voice laced with faux-innocence.

Frank knew he shouldn’t get involved, but pissing Mikey off sounded incredibly tempting at the moment. Besides, he’d rather you flirt with him than with strangers—Frank had a reputation for this, anyway. Neither of you would take it too far, making him the best candidate. Cracking a smile and breathing a small sigh, he agreed, letting you inch closer.

The next few minutes followed the same formula—Frank continued to lean against the wall, and his free arm was wrapped around your waist while the two of you laughed at almost everything in sight. You may have been sober, but Frank had a good buzz going, tossing his head back and downing the rest of his drink. His hair fell messily over his eyes, and alcohol wet his upper lip, soon quirking up as he gave you a mischievous grin.

“Someone’s out of the kitchen,” he informed you.

You could’ve looked over, but this seemed much more fun. Frank could clearly see behind you, his eyes flicking between yours and the hallway, watching as your plan fell into place. With blissful ignorance, you placed your hand on Frank’s cheek, your thumb skimming his lips as you wiped away the liquor stain.

Amused, he watched as you cleaned it from your skin, running your thumb along your tongue, tasting the cheap beer. “That tasted like shit,” you laughed, earning a humored smile in return.

“That should be the least of your worries right now.”

This was beyond entertaining for him, watching as Mikey strode across the room, his eyes locked on you as he pushed through a crowd of people. Inconspicuously, Frank’s hand slipped back into the pocket of his jeans, casually settling against the wall. You had to bite back a grin as Mikey’s arms snaked around your waist, wrapping tighter as you leaned into his touch. While they exchanged greetings, you gave Frank a grateful smile and turned around to face Mikey.

“I think it’s time to go.”

It was spoken steadily, his jaw set and grip growing stronger as your arms dangled around his neck. There was something sinister in his eyes, and his expression toed a line between condescension and irritation. In a moment of infinite wisdom, you challenged him.

“We just found Frank though,” you frowned, glancing back at the man in question, who snickered into his solo cup. “And who said I was ready to leave?”

He gave you a grin, one that screamed sympathy. God couldn’t save you now, not with the hell Mikey could raise. It had you eating your words quick enough to choke, regret already twisting in your gut.

“Oh, honey,” he murmured, still smiling maliciously. “I can give you what you want.”

You froze for a moment, breath catching in your throat at his offer. It was only for a moment—just long enough for him to admire his effect on you—and you quickly came to your senses. You huffed, rolling your eyes as you gave in.

“Fine,” you told him, feigning frustration, but he could see right through it.

After saying goodbye to Frank—who giggled through the interaction, of course—Mikey promptly led you out the door, clutching your hand tight as he walked you to the passenger side. You weren’t sure if you should be grateful for his stoicism; while his wicked grin had vanished, his jaw seemed to be permanently locked and he hadn’t spoken since you’d left. Somehow, it was more intimidating, his silence becoming ominous and turning fifteen minutes into eternity.

Under the anxiety that simmered in your stomach was something worse, dirty and humiliating; or maybe it would’ve been, had this not been your intention. Lust soothed your stress, spiking it and slowly spilling into your bloodstream. Soon enough, Mikey had corrupted every thought in your head, and by the time he had parked the car, he was the only thing on your mind.

But Mikey remained silent. He didn’t make a sound as you walked up the lot, only hearing his sneakers scuff against the pavement. It carried into the building, the jingle of his keys echoing through the empty halls as you trailed after him. Even as he shut the door, his lips were sealed, though his air of intimation had softened to mild annoyance.

An apology began to bubble up in your throat as you followed him, finding this kind of ignorance to be worse than the last. While he padded towards the dresser, you stuck by the edge of the bed. He was impossible to read, especially with his back turned, but the sooner the tension dissipated, the better.

“I’m sorry,” you said, tentative and hushed.

Maybe he really was upset, still rummaging around for a shirt before speaking. “For what?”

“Flirting with Frank.”

He really only wanted admission, shutting the drawer fruitlessly and turning back to face you. Instead of looking upset, he was pleased, walking towards you one more.

“It’s fine, baby,” he said, knuckles brushing against your jaw. “You’re just so fucking needy, huh? You had to flirt with Frank for some attention.”

Speechless, you listened with bated breath, submerged in anticipation as he continued. “Do you think you deserve it?” he asked, reveling in the power you gave him.

“Yeah,” you told him, incapable of forming a coherent sentence.

He didn’t push much further, humming doubtfully. “I don’t think so.”

You opened your mouth to protest, but he cut you off abruptly, pressing his other hand to your back as his fingers unfurled, warm against your cheek as he kissed you. It was anything but gentle, vastly different from the sweet kisses he gave you on sunny mornings. His passion was the only constant, and his asperity was incomparable to his typical delicacy. Gone were his spontaneous kisses, soft and slow after catching you in the kitchen after midnight, draping his arms loosely around your waist as you swayed with him. The sound of his laughter and the brush of his lips was nothing but a memory now, dusting away as he kissed you with raw fervor.

You gave into his touch just the same, melting against him as he pulled you closer, his hand slowly sliding against your jaw in the process. It was messy and desperate, your head tilting back as he nipped at your bottom lip, swiftly gliding his tongue against it. Once again, his hand slid towards your neck, delicately pressing his fingers against your throat as he forced your head still. He had so much control, getting drunk on adrenaline as you whined against his lips. You could barely fucking think, overwhelmed as he seemed to be everywhere, and yet somehow you craved more.

The sharp tug of your lip between his teeth sent a moan spilling into the room, breaking the prior peace. Mikey had to fight a conceited smile, slipping his tongue past your lips as your mouth filled with the taste of filthy familiarity. He moved shamelessly, letting his hand trail from your back to the curve of your ass, sliding his tongue against yours with the same fluency.

Gradually, he slowed down, giving you nothing more than lingering kisses for the sake of riling you up. Your arms had hooked around his neck, mumbling pleas that all ended with his lips against yours, whining weakly as he pulled away.

“What?” he asked, watching in amusement as you searched for a word other than please. “You still want my cock, baby? You want me to fuck you?”

You had gone dumb, blinking mindlessly as you responded with a soft, “Yeah.”

Proud, he leaned in close, his lips skimming the shell of your ear. “Then earn it. Get on your knees.”

His words were hypnotic, and you didn’t think twice about sinking to the floor. It was so fucking satisfying, Mikey watching as his sentence registered, and how quick you were to respond. After pressing a handful of kisses to his neck, you finally dropped down, gazing up at him curiously.

He raised his brows at you and crossed his arms over his chest. “Honey, it’s not gonna suck itself.”

It was a crass push, and as you pulled at the zipper of his jeans, you couldn’t help but murmur a rebuttal.

“Now who’s needy?”

Mistakes seemed to be a constant tonight, because even if it was spoken under your breath, Mikey still managed to hear. It was almost funny, huffing a laugh of mild disbelief while you ignored your own remorse.

“Baby, I wasn’t whoring myself out to your friends, was I?” he asked, his condescension returning.

The callout was humbling enough, making quick work of his jeans as they pooled below him. Your hands trailed up his legs, smoothing over his thighs and nipping at his skin, pressing your palm to his erection in the process. It wasn’t much, merely wet kisses and mild friction, but it still had his hips bucking softly against your hand. Gradually, your lips trailed higher, skimming the fabric of his boxers until you were pressed against his cock, replacing the friction with a final kiss. Your fingers swept across his waistband, gently dipping beneath the elastic as you yanked them down, and Mikey gave a short sigh in response.

The contrast between your behaviors clashed perfectly—while you treated him with delicacy, he strived to ruin you, and it was a mind-numbing juxtaposition. Power didn’t break even in the bedroom, and you encouraged your own submission as much as he did, aiming to tease until he had to take matters into his own hands.

Mikey watched you carefully, breath hitching as your lips brushed against the head, expecting a familiar warmth that never came. Instead, you sucked faint kisses down his cock, pressing your tongue to his skin in mild mockery. The way you wet his dick was nothing more than a tease, trailing closer to the tip in languid strokes, only to pull away.

His frustration was evident, and you waited eagerly for him to snap, quickly sweeping your tongue across the head to get a reaction out of him. It was visceral, a soft moan parting his lips, but his pleasure vanished rapidly as you pulled away again.

“God, you can’t follow simple fucking instructions, can you?” he huffed, grasping your jaw and pulling you closer.

Your lips brushed against him, wetting them as he tilted your head back. “Open.”

He didn’t fall for doe eyes and fluttering lashes, well aware of your game. His fingers pressed into your skin and your jaw fell, sticking your tongue out for him. It was an erotic sight, Mikey’s breath stalling for a moment as he eased his cock into your mouth. Your lips wrapped around him like muscle memory, savoring the weight on your tongue as his hand gravitated to the back of your head.

“See? That wasn’t so hard.”

He knew what you wanted and how you acted out to get it. You were a glutton for punishment, and he decided you had to earn that too. After spending a whole day practically begging for his dick, you finally had it, and yet you were still so fucking needy, desperate to be desecrated and used like a cheap whore. For now, you had little choice but to go at his pace, turning obedient and wrapping your hands around his cock as you sucked him off.

It was languid, and he was wickedly smug as you steadily bobbed your head, pulling off sporadically to press kisses to the tip. The October chill was prominent in your apartment, but your mouth was warm, making him press closer. He knew you could do better than that, giving a single cautionary thrust before speaking up.

“God, you’re fucking pathetic,” he chided, scowling down at you. “Can’t even suck dick properly. Useless fucking whore.”

He had to wear you down, pulling you back by the nape of your neck and slapping your hands away. “What are you doing?” you asked anxiously, gazing at him as he jerked himself off.

The whine in your voice was sheer motivation, a sick smile forming as you kneeled hopelessly in front of him. “Since you’re so bad at it,” he shrugged, moaning softly.

Your response was almost instantaneous, reverting to the sweet sub he had been waiting for, gaping as you struggled to find the words. “Mikey please, I’ll be good,” you pleaded, brows furrowing together as if it were catastrophic. “I’ll behave, I promise.”

“You’re acting like a brat,” he said simply. “No.”

Again, came an objective cry, and another onslaught of pleas. “Please, I need it. I need you, please let me suck your cock. I’ll be good, I’m sorry.”

Your sentence ran together, but he didn’t care, jaw locking as he gave a sigh of artificial impatience. “Prove it then, bitch.”

The moment the words left his mouth, you were eagerly shifting closer, Mikey still pumping his hand as your lips pressed against his cock. Your lips were already slick and swollen, and he was no help as he brushed against you, smearing them with spit and precum. It was filthy and degrading, but lust overpowered your remaining dignity. He was relishing in your avidity, moaning as you lapped at the head of his cock and replaced his hands with your own.

Your desire to tease had washed away, replaced by desperation as you wrapped your lips around him. Steady breathing had become a distant memory for Mikey, gripping the back of your neck to prevent himself from thrusting. The gentle squeeze sent an instinctive moan tumbling past your lips, vibrating against his cock as you pushed him deeper.

“You like that?” he asked rhetorically, giving you a patronizing grin. “You want me to choke you? Fuck, you’re sluttier than I thought.”

All you could do was hum in agreement, shame mixing with the arousal that burned in your veins. You sped up as he grew louder, continuing to jerk him after pulling away. He moved to scold you, but you were quicker, flattening your tongue against him and swirling it tantalizingly, gently sucking the tip while he squeezed your throat again in warning.

The pressure eased up as you pulled away, and he could hardly question your antics before the criticism caught in his throat. Rendered speechless as you stared up at him, he watched as saliva spilled off your tongue, dribbling sloppily down his cock before he was back in your mouth. It was passionate and messy, your head bobbing quick and desperately as you drooled over his dick, cheeks hollowing around him until he had to pull you away.

“Put your hands behind your back,” he commanded, chest heaving as you obeyed him. “Open your mouth.”

Hard work really did pay off, because Mikey wasted no time sliding back into your mouth. His hand pressed against your head, holding you still as he started thrusting, fulfilling your wanton desires. He was apathetic, only growing rougher as you choked on his cock, whining as he pushed your head closer.

“Look at you,” he moaned, bucking his hips mercilessly. “Taking my cock like a good fucking slut.”

The degradation went straight to your cunt, aching and dripping with arousal as he used you, and you had never felt more empty. Even as your eyes began to water, it wasn’t enough, moaning around him as he gave a few more harsh thrusts.

“I bet you’re fucking soaked right now,” he said, gradually slowing his pace. “You’re such a whore, baby. You need my cock everywhere, don’t you?”

He pulled out, bringing his hand to your cheek and caressing your skin as you came to your senses. Rather than speaking, you stared at him through half-lidded eyes, trying desperately to form a response. His thumb ghosted your lips, tugging your bottom lip gingerly as you whispered a mindless, “Yeah.”

It was laughable, and he shot you a twisted grin. “You’re so fucking dumb for me, aren’t you? Stupid sluts don’t deserve to be fucked.”

That got a rise out of you, your brain kicking into gear as you let out a pathetic cry. “No, fuck, please.”

It bordered on intelligible, and he played dumb in return. “Please what?”

“Please fuck me,” you babbled, asinine and fragile as you stared up at him. “Please, Mikey, I need it.”

He breathed softly, motioning for you to stand up. “You’re my pretty slut, aren’t you?”

You could only manage an affirming hum, but that didn’t matter once Mikey’s lips were against yours, meeting just long enough to taste himself on your lips. He popped the button on your jeans and kicked his own across the floor, sliding his hands beneath your shirt as he kissed you languidly. As clothing hit the floor, your impatience spiked, splaying your hands across his shoulders as he pushed you back against the mattress.

He hovered above you, eyes still shining with sin while his hand skated across your skin. The brush of his fingers against your cunt sent another wave of humiliation crashing down on you, while Mikey swelled with pride. You had exceeded his expectations, predictably wet with an insatiable ache as he spread you open.

“I was bluffing, baby,” he said, pushing his fingers inside. “Wasn’t expecting you to prove me right.”

You breathed a soft moan, pleasure and satisfaction easing the burn of embarrassment. His fingers curled so nicely, steadily working you open, but it still wasn’t enough. Mikey was many things, but oblivious wasn’t one of them, prompting your request.

“What do you want?” he asked, speeding up as your lips parted. “I wanna hear you say it.”

His behavior was almost cruel, waiting for answers only to fluctuate his pace when you tried to speak. It was demeaning, but you couldn’t bother to be frustrated–not when he was looking at you like that, getting high off your desperation.

Finally, you found the strength to talk, though your answer came out weak and jumbled. “Mikey please,” you cried, eyes screwed shut in concentration. “Please fuck me.”

Swiftly, his fingers slipped out, Mikey sucking them clean before pressing his palm to your cheek. He gave you a short kiss, sliding his tongue against yours until you tasted your arousal.

“Can you taste how bad you want me?” he asked, caressing your skin. “Stick your tongue out.”

You complied, gazing up at him in anticipation and watching as his lips pursed, slick and shiny as he spat into your mouth. As drool coated his bottom lip, he muttered a stern command.

“Swallow.”

And fuck, did you listen.

He was enamored, staring in shock and admiration as your lips closed, swallowing eagerly and moaning in the process. “Please,” you tried again, and this time, he listened.

“You’re fucking perfect,” he mumbled in disbelief, kissing you quick and messy before pushing in, stifling a laugh as you moaned instantaneously. “Fuck, are you happy now? Needy whore finally got what they wanted.”

Responding was out of reach, the rough snap of his hips rendering you speechless as you fought for competence. He left you intelligible, babbling curses and pleas that only fueled his ego, watching with pride as you crumbled beneath him.

“So fucking stupid for my cock,” he murmured, groaning as he pounded deeper. “Is this what you wanted? To be fucked like a dirty slut?”

All you could do was whine, too caught up in his brutal thrusts to answer. Literacy was a foreign concept at this point, and you had already retired to whimpers and moans. This wasn’t enough to satisfy Mikey though, and he made it clear with a brief pause.

Ignoring your offended cry, he questioned you again. “C’mon baby, you can speak. Tell me how good it feels. Tell me how much you love my cock.”

Panting, you rambled mindlessly at him. “Shit, it’s perfect, Mikey, please. Your cock feels s’fucking good, please let me come.”

“That’s fucking right.”

Mikey regained his former pace with admirable ease, kissing you sloppily as you whined into his mouth. The tension in your muscles grew tighter as he continued, every roll of his hips pushing you towards release, obvious as you dug your nails into his back. He moaned at the sweet sting, rubbing your clit with a contrasting delicacy.

“You’re already gonna come?” he taunted, watching as you nodded in shame. “Good. You can wait.”

You could fucking taste it at this point, weak and vulnerable as he rutted against you, and yet you stayed compliant, save for a pathetic cry. The power high brought him closer, nearly coming as you whined pitifully, begging him to come. His resolve was strong though, thrusting until his rhythm grew erratic and his thighs burned from the exertion, choking out a heavenly, “Fuck, come on my cock. Show me how good it feels.”

You could barely register the words, only the relief that washed over you as you came. And then came the bliss, bathing in euphoric sin as he pulled out, twitching and marking you up. The sensitivity continued to linger, even after the stars and vignette had left your sight, but even that was hard to decipher. Your chest heaved as you reveled in the aftershocks, finally fading back into reality when Mikey rolled over next to you.

“Are you okay?” he started, interlocking your fingers and watching you closely.

You nodded, almost laughing at the irony of his tone. “Yeah, are you?”

He grinned, pecking you on the lips. “Fucking wonderful.”

“okay nvm fuckers its late fic is over go home” - doc-martens-enthusiast

taglist: @clichedlovers @halloweenbitch2764 @lubbockshusband @cigarettesandalcohol @couldbegayer1234 @doc-martens-enthusiast @yachiiko @becausethedrugsneverwork @michelethesong @dangerouslittlefairy​

[babyboibucky]

The Match

Pairing: CEO!Bucky Barnes x Reader

Summary: You come across your boss’ Tinder profile.

Word Count: 1,446

Warnings: HMMMM sexual tension 😏

A/N: I wrote this in a whirl and tried to format it through the app last night and it SUCKS so I’m posting this just now. Anyway, there will definitely be a smutty part two to this lmfao ya know it

Edit: PART 2 IS UP!!!

The Match Masterlist || MAIN MASTERLIST

Saturday night and you’re on your bed, wine-drunk and all as you mindlessly swiped through Tinder. You start to frown when none of the guys impressed you enough to swipe right. Their bios were all the same, revolving around their egos only to end up with the good ol’ “DTF” line.

Bored and disappointed, you almost exited the app until a very, very familiar face appeared on your screen.

“Holy shitballs, it’s our boss.” You sat up immediately, bringing your phone to your face for a close inspection.

Indeed, it was your boss James Barnes but he was using “Bucky” as his profile name. You wondered whether it was his real account or a poser one. But then you remembered his closest colleagues calling him that.

You snorted as you checked out his profile. He didn’t have a bio but had a couple of photos uploaded. And oh wow, is that a shirtless mirror photo?

You rarely worked closely with your boss but goddamn, sometimes you wished you did because he was a hot piece of ass.

“Should I swipe right...” you mumbled to yourself.

Would it be unprofessional to do so? But then again, you never really interacted with him that much. Just a couple of polite nods and greetings whenever you passed by him at the office. You weren’t even directly reporting to him.

That being said, you were quite sure that he wouldn’t swipe right on you given that you’re his employee. Of course he wouldn’t want to be the unprofessional one so being tipsy and all, you decided to take one for the team.

“Tss, what the hell.” You huffed out and swiped right.

Not even a second later, the “It’s a match!” message popped up on the screen almost immediately. You choked on your wine and dropped your phone, eyes wide and heart racing because you just matched with your fucking boss.

“Shit!” You hissed, diving onto the floor the pick your phone up.

If the message popped out as soon as you swiped right on him, then that means...

“He swiped right on me first, what the fuck!”

-

Monday came quickly and you’ve never been this restless before. You couldn’t wrap your head around the fact that you matched with your boss on Tinder. Neither of you messaged the other over the weekend but now that you were headed to work, you honestly didn’t know what to expect.

You debated whether to call in sick or maybe, pretend that you died? Pack your bags and perhaps fly to a different country and start anew? You were overacting but matching with your boss on a dating app known for hook-ups should be a valid reason to justify your thoughts.

Maybe James didn’t recognize you that’s why he swiped right. That was possible since you and him didn’t really work together. It’d be better if he swiped right by accident, his phone probably slipped from his hands. He probably doesn’t even know he matched with you, yeah, you decided to settle on that conclusion.

Taking a deep breath in, you fixed your hair before stepping out of your car. Mondays were meant for meetings so he probably wouldn’t be around the office anyway. You rushed over to the elevator and let out a sigh of relief when you didn’t have to share it with anyone.

That was until someone managed to slip a foot in between the doors, catching up to you before the elevators slammed shut.

“Oh.”

Well, well, well if it isn’t James “Bucky” Barnes. Out of all the people you had to share an elevator with, it just had to be him! And judging by how his eyes widened at the sight of you, the Tinder incident wasn’t simply an accident.

“Good morning.” He greeted, clearing his throat as he stood beside you.

James’ scent wafted in the air as soon as the doors slid close and he smelled divine. He smelled like a man, a man man and it almost made your eyes roll. You greeted him back with a soft voice, fighting so hard not to look at him because as always, he looked pretty damn good.

He was restless beside you, adjusting his suit and then his tie. You could see him through your peripheral vision, he kept on fixing his hair as well. Did he get a haircut? It was shorter than before, not that you were paying way too much attention to him.

Meanwhile, you too were fidgeting with your shoulder bag, picking at the leather and praying for this torture to be over before you could even lose control and slam your lips against his.

“How was your weekend?” James asked, glancing at you.

This was probably the longest conversation you had with your boss. You weren’t even sure which was more awkward, striking a conversation after the match or simply remaining quiet for the entire ride up.

“Um, it was good. Yours?” You asked, stammering a little as you stole a quick glance at him.

James nodded, “Good too. Interesting actually.”

Fuck! He knows, he so knows about the match.

You would have preferred complete silence over the elevator music echoing in the air while the both of you were obviously feeling the tension. Was the elevator really this slow?! And when did it get this hot?!

You started fanning yourself when you started to sweat from the awkwardness of it all. Bucky too could obviously feel it, the tension and the elephant in the room waiting to be acknowledged. He loosened his tie all of a sudden, popping the top buttons of his dress shirt which quickly reminded you of the shirtless pic in his profile.

You could feel the heat creep up to your neck and ears. With how bright the lights were in the elevator, it’d be easy for James to notice how red you turned.

“Kinda hot today, don’t you think?” He asked.

You let out a mirthless chuckle, “Yeah, really hot. I think the maintenance should have the air conditioning unit checked.” You breathed out, clearing your throat again as you wiped the sweat forming on your forehead.

For a couple of seconds there was nothing but the collective sounds of you and your boss clearing your throats. The tension was so thick you can literally touch it if you tried. You wanted to address the unspoken issue but how the hell were you going to do that? Jump on his bones? It would seem like a good idea to do so except that he was your boss and that would result to you losing your job.

You wanted to ask James though, whether he was aware that you were his employee when he swiped right. Actually, you just wanted to bring up the topic just to get it over with. Acknowledge the match and then pretend it didn’t happen to save you both from the embarrassment. Yeah, you could do that.

Unable to hold back anymore, you broke the silence to ask James a question.

“Did you swipe right on accident?”

“So are you down to fuck?”

You and James asked at the same time, his straightforward question making you weak in the knees because what the hell...

James bit his lip, shaking his head in response. “I didn’t.”

“Oh.” You blinked, unable to stop yourself from staring at James’ mouth when he ran his tongue over his lower lip before taking it in between his teeth as he looked you over with glazed eyes.

Damn that tongue, though. And damn those blue eyes too.

“Are you...?” He repeated again, reminding you of his question.

Your boss, whom you rarely interacted with in the office, just asked you whether you were down to fuck. Truthfully, you were only on Tinder because of boredom and it wasn’t your goal to actually hook-up with someone. But now that your hot boss swiped right on you and seemed to be really interested in you...

“I...uhh...” you stammered, not really knowing how to tell him that yes, you would very much like to be fucked by him.

The elevator dinged, interrupting the tension between you and James. The doors slid open and James quickly straightened up before walking ahead.

But not without turning around to look at you expectantly, waiting for a response.

Due to the pressure and the elevator doors beginning to close, you blurted out the first thing that you could muster.

“Yes, sir!”

You blushed at your response but it seemed to have stirred something in James because his eyes darkened as he smirked at you.

“Good. Then I’ll see you in my office in fifteen.”

-

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