#fuck if i move out of state what am i gonna do about my credits i was gonna try and take the last few courses to finish my degree

[scarlettcryptid]

the comments on my fics are some of the only things holding me together rn

[remushrts]

evan or barty comforting the reader after they hear someone talking about them??

Catharsis

— pairing: barty crouch jr x reader

— a/n: hii, thank you for the request!! you didn't specify if you wanted that platonic or romantic, so it can be read either way! also i chose barty because this is a little self indulging and i took it in a bit of an other direction, hope it's okay anyway

— warnings: inciting violence (because it's barty), reader (literally) breaks a tv (don't try this at home please), not proof read

When the bedroom door unlocks with a soft click, you don't know who you'd expect to enter, but definitely, it was not Barty. He walks over to you, eyes falling to your watery ones as he gives you a smile, only a bit softer than usual. "So, who do I need to beat?" He asks, sitting on the floor by your side without a care in the world.

"Nobody." You sniff, chuckling softly. "Good to know you're up for it though."

"Yeah, hell I am." You can tell his a bit stiffer too, he's not used to the whole thing, you think. Comforting people, being gentle with them, it was never Barty's strength. "Wanna talk about it? Or smash a tv?" You frown, his offer is tempting, but strange.

"Whose tv?" You ask, laughing softly. The sound is almost a huff, the only hint of humor in the soft curls of your lips.

"Don't worry about it." He smirks, propping himself up on his feet and holding out a hand for you, his eyes exhibiting a dangerous glint to them. "So, you wanna smash a tv? We can find the fucker's house too if you feel like breaking a window."

And yeah, maybe you do.

For Barty's credit, he did tell you you could break a tv. Still, you're a bit surprised as he walks you to his backyard and a full television stands on two bricks, looking brand new except from a few scratches on the led screen. Barty smirks at your reaction. "It's like a rage room, but I don't have a room to worry about cleaning up after." He explains, picking a bat from the floor and swirling it lazily, pretending to hit an invisible ball.

"Did you steal this?" You can't help but ask. Following after him, you can't help but notice the glass shards and wood splinters littering the floor, as well as a few bottle necks here and there.

"Of course not!" He feigns offense like the worst actor in the world. "It was on Evan's flat when he moved, but it's broken. Also, it reeks of beer, he thinks the bastard that owned it dumped a few cans on it and it broke down. He said it's not worth fixing, thus this baby sitting on my yard."

You only nod. Breaking a tv with Barty was not how you imagined your day would end, but you were not one to complain. At least you weren't crying yourself to sleep in your room.

"So, what's it gonna be, princess?" You open your mouth to ask what he's talking about, only to see him holding out the baseball bat and another brick on his hands. "Choose your weapon." You pick the baseball bat, and he handles you a pair of safety googles, to which you raise a brown. "What? I'm not an animal." As soon as you've secured the googles on your eyes, Barty lowers his own. "To who do we own the honor?"

You know what he's asking, the name has been stuck in your throat since he first asked, aching to get out like an ich you can't reach. You don't mean to feel as frustrated as you do with them, but you can't help yourself. You shout their names loudly, raising your bat in the air.

"And their little fucking shit talking friends!" Barty completes loudly, because of course he cracked it the moment he saw your state, raising a crow bar in the air, red painting chipped at both ends, you're not sure why or how he came do possess one of those, but you don't question either.

Instead, you swing your bat in the air, smashing the tv screen with a loud noise, glass shattering at your feet. Barty smiles by your side, and for a moment, you forget why you were so upset in the first place.

[hongism]

this is gonna be a longer post about it but the basic gist of what all i’m getting at is that inspiration is not an excuse for plagiarism.

the characterizations and the themes in the story are unavoidably similar. the mc character being a “key” to something more, the “amnesia” of the main character that does not allow them to remember much of their past, the bits of the past coming back with triggers and also the dark nature of what is being remembered. 

codenames, healer, healer being yunho, first big confrontation scene with hongjoong happening in you guessed it an infirmary. the back and forth, the banter, the interactions between hongjoong and the mc - and these are all similarities from the second part that was posted. san’s character is noted to be someone very stealthy and who can move around quickly and quietly without being noticed. going straight from the infirmary to get some food and meet other members of the crew. seonghwa calling mc princess. seonghwa taking mc to the bridge to speak to hongjoong and leaving her alone there to have a conversation with him. sparring with a member, it developing into a panic attack having to step outside sitting up against a wall until it subsides it is play by play what happens in my story. wristbands and earpieces. 

other similarities that i am simply too pissed to word out myself:

i do not need to sit here and detail why all this is similar to my story because it is glaringly obvious. mind you i couldn’t even bring myself to read the last six parts that have been posted because i was so frustrated by the similarities from the first ones. some of it is play by play what happens in a scene in mists of celeste.

note - author did not credit me for the hand my story had in inspiring theirs.

on their pinned post, they claim that i am one of their favorite authors. mind you they have talked about wanting to create something inspired by moc before

so why, @senpai-of-doom​, have you suddenly decided that it’s not worth tagging me or crediting me or even putting a disclaimer on the masterlist or the chapters of your fic? you yourself stated that is is greatly inspired by ateez, their lore, and mists of celeste. where is my credit? i have spent years on moc i have poured so much time and effort into my story, i have fought plagiarism accusations too because i know how fucking hard it is when you’re writing a pirate au for ateez! if you love writing as much as you claim to then you know how hard it is to write. so why would you take someone else’s ideas and then not give them their due?

[indescriptequilibrium]

ok b4 i make these damn credit requests n send reports to customers i gotta write a bit of testicles philosophy that's been clankin around inside my cranium for a while. if u don't wanna read bout stuff like this pls scroll by but if u do pls bear with me while i talk about an incredibly sensitive topic that's almost impossible to tackle with any level of seriousness due to the Absurdity of transness

so im gettin neutered in 2,5 weeks. this has been a long time comin n now it's suddenly crystalized into a tangible date that's rly close (close enough that it alrdy caused sum Despair n schedulin stress on my part cuz im a anxious scaredy cat (sorry n thank u<3)). this is a huge fuckin deal. i've had dysphoria bout these guys for as long as i can fuckin remember. i'm nowadays pretty ok w/ havin a dick, but the accessories r abysmal n need to go.

first things first, they're uncomfortable. anyone who has some will attest that life w/ balls is at best bearable (mens underwear n pants leave a lot of space for convenience) n at worst horrid n painful (to safekeep reproductive capabilities they're equipped w/ a frankly ludicrous amount of nerve endings). i'm in almost a constant state of mild-to-severe discomfort cuz i'm very dysphorically aware of them at most times, like rn. they're always moving around no matter how well secured in place n the more u secure them in place the more uncomfortable it can get. n Adjusting their position especially in public no matter how stealthy i am about it makes me feel like some kind of a pervert cuz well i AM grabbing n moving my junk around. ugh. so this is very much a dysphoric "THIS BODY PART DOESNT BELONG" type situation.

secondly, i do NOT want to reproduce, especially not via inseminating someone. that's a horrid thought n makes me feel like some kind of a gigeresque parasite-spewing breeding maschine. note: this is a Personal Feeling, making n having babies is a perfectly normal thing to want to do. but i do not have the need to do it via my own biology.

third, FORM FACTOR. fuckin gods i own so many pieces of clothing that will finally fit nicely when im free of the two pain orbs attached near a very critical part of pants n underwear. i've looked at n adored how pants fit ppl without this kind of junk in the way forever n been so so envious even b4 i had the language to describe it. i rly hope it's as comfortable as i imagine it.

fourthly, i kno it's not a requirement to be an androgynous person to lack reproductive ability, but shit fuck godsdamn it, it will help with the feeling. kinda like how changin my legal gender was altogether very unimpactful (as it should be tbh...), but gave me self-confidence n entitlement in my identity. the idea of being physically something between genders is amazing n freeing as hell. masculinity has weighed heavy on my shoulders n this'll take some of the load off. stop giggling

fifth n final point that i have in mind rn: i can stop takin fucking spironolactone!!!!!!!! im convinced just this will be a huge quality of life improvement, i'm so dried up it's crazy. i piss like every couple of hours n my lower lip has been chapped af for weeks. t1d dries u up already i rly don't need an additional drug doing that. plus i'm p sure spiro has some side effects goin that i'm not even aware of but i'm eager to find out what changes.

all in all this is HUGE. i'm gonna probs cope w/ the wait w/ a lot of humor n some of this humor will make me more dysphoric (dysphoria has been growing the whole winter) but pls bear with my ballsposting soon i'll stop talking about them forever and i rly have NOT mentioned the guys ever cuz of the dysphoria so final chance to say goodbye i guess? lol. anyway gotta work now bye hope this was somehow revelatory re: my feelings w/ this whole issue for those of u who r for some reason interested in the general genital situation lmao

[tarotoftheendless]

Hey... So, yeah, my Waiting for Forever fanfic has been on hiatus... I do plan on continuing to write it, just life stuff has come up, same with just crippling depression.

I have plans for my Waiting for Forever fanfic, so it will come, just slowly, sadly... I love Willie too much to abandon him.

I also have had some other great ideas for fanfics that I both would either like to write myself or allow someone else to write with some input from me on the idea. Most of the ideas for fanfics I have are things I would love to read myself, so...

Of course all my ideas are Tom Sturridge related... Here are some of my ideas for fanfics... If you want to write it yourself, just please reach out to me and ask me what my full idea was and maybe give me a bit of credit for helping to come up with it, that's all I ask if you are gonna write before I have the chance to.

Tom Sturridge fanfic Ideas:

Nathan from 'Skin'. It's an 11 minute short film that showcases how amazing Tom is as an actor. He gives so much to this performance, I was floored.

What we were able to get from the story is that he is grieving the death of his husband. Well, I am assuming Daniel, that's the man's name that Nathan was with, was his husband considering it seemed like it was more than just boyfriends.

The AI voice never states what Company that Nathan works for, so I have been calling it The Company... Which started to sound ominous in my head. It could be a tech company, but it could also be a company with illuminati levels of influence...

My idea, vaguely, was that after the stunt that Nathan pulls to manipulate the AI into playing a recording of his husband's voice, The Company makes him agree to a Live-In Companion, much like a Companion from Firefly but less just a one and done. And in my mind Nathan is bisexual. He agrees, but chooses a female companion.

She is to stay with him for three months, helping him with whatever he needs, like whatever he needs, to help him heal from his grief of losing his husband... So he is work ready again for The Company. If he fails to become work ready in that time or if he does not sign the documentation to start the process, The Company will terminate him and take him to court over the stunt he pulled.

I have so many ideas for this, all of them very thriller sci-fi conspiracy and action, with smut of course thrown in there. Like what if The Company gave Nathan's husband the cancer he ultimately died of? Why? For what reason? Juicy shit my guys, juicy shit.

I wish I could write this myself... And maybe I will... Unless someone else likes it so much to collab with me on it?

Anyway, next idea....

Jake. Jakey. Baby Jakey. Sweetbitter.

So, I had a thought awhile ago that Jake would be great with a roller derby chick... But then I thought maybe he would be great with a professional dancer... Like all styles of dance. She has spent her life training in dance. And she moves into the apartment next door to Jake's place. No new hire at the restaurant bullshit. She is removed from it because that is what Jake needs in a relationship. Something separate from the restaurant.

I had the thought that she was hired to be the choreography coordinator at Broadway, so, she is a career driven woman, something I think Jake needs. Vision. And I think this dancer OC would help him see that he is a good enough photographer to actually pursue that as a career.

Like what if she shows her boss at Broadway his work and her boss wants to hire him for a fuck ton of money to shoot dress rehearsal and opening night, where his photos will be chosen for an article on the play in The New York Times, who is looking for a new journalist photographer. Like it could be life changing.

I had the thought that the play would be the musical Moulin Rouge...

And yeah, Jake will be Jake about it, self-doubt, the Simone of it all. But I think it could work. Giving Jake a partner that believes in him and wants him to choose something for himself and himself alone just this once.

Anyway... Another idea I have is a parody idea... Of a cross-over of The Great British Baking Show and The Sandman. Like it's a promotional episode of TGBBS for The Sandman.

The actors playing The Endless would do the Signature and Technical as themselves, the actors, but for the Show-Stopper, they are their characters.

It was a funny idea. And I don't know all the actors and characters enough to write it believably, so, someone who does, please write this. I think it would be so fucking funny.

And who would win? Is it just one episode or are they doing multiple to actually get the The Endless that is the star of The Great British Baking Show?

Anyway, those are my ideas for fanfics... And yeah, I still am gonna write my Waiting for Forever fanfic, it's just slow going...

Here's a cute Willie for now 😘

[cigsinterlude-blog]

What-- Who is a Mother?

Born in 2004, she was only 16 years old. Fast forward to now, 2024. That makes it 20 years she's been pushing me farther and farther away from her. So far, there have been 4 boys, one girl, a cat, and a dog after me. So that means she put 1..2…3…4…7! Seven. She put seven things between me and her. The oldest.

It's been almost a year now since I moved out and went off to college, and I haven't gotten a single visit from her. But yet, I always went out of my way to make the train ride and visit them. Visit her new baby, my new "little brother"… The "brother" I didn't even know about until he was due in 2 months. The brother that was kept in secret from ME. The oldest.

"I want to start over and raise a good, obedient child. One that actually listens to me and is gonna be very smart and tidy."

So, another slave?

The child who, for a year now, still cannot speak, does not listen, and is certainly not the tidiest. So what happens after that? A dog…she gets a fucking dog… Out of all of the choices she could have made in this life. She chooses to have six kids, a cat, and a dog. None of which she actually "raises".

But what about me mommy...?

I graduated in the top 10% of my class with a 4.0 GPA, attended magnet schools and programs from middle to high school, maintained good grades, participated in sports, joined clubs, and ultimately made a name for myself amid competition. I got accepted into good schools in our home state, saved money, opened a credit line, maintained good credit since then, saved $1700 on car repairs, and saved even more to afford to move out and start renting. Why are you not satisfied? Why aren't you paying attention to anything I do? I did all of this because you asked me to. I couldn't do the bare minimum because of you and because I'm the OLDEST.

I struggle to pay my rent on time, and I never have any money for groceries; I totaled that same car I saved up for and got a new one, but it was in no better condition, so it stopped working after a month. Yet, here I am, in a city I've only been in for a year, 2 hours away from home and family, alone. And yet, not a single visit from you. Not even a check-up. A call, a text.. nothing.

Exactly what I am to you… nothing.

[celestie0]

Girl look this is gonna sound like a love confession bc maybe it is idk I’m obsessed with ur braincells in another life your definitely one of my best pookies 😔🫶

Like the way I FELL in love with kickoff was so uncalled for bc what business do I have being this invested in an athlete frat college au when I’m generally all for the domestic angsty husband wifey shit anyway now idk how to cope when it’s finished so pls take my hand in marriage and we can have pillow talk abt them 💍❤️ thank you.

genuinely ur writing is chefs kiss though 👌 (let me kiss ur hands 😗) and I love love love that u actually seem to have real knowledge on what u write about like the soccer games and the all the camera stuff it gives the story sm more substance

anyway penny for my thoughts 🤧 ?

This fanart on TikTok: https://vt.tiktok.com/ZSYaQwJQo

ok so basically when I first started reading the fic and I was talking to my friend abt all the frat shenanigans (WHICH I LOVE BTW IM SO IN LOVE WITH THIS FRAT BOY TROPE NOW) we both related it to this one fanart: https://vt.tiktok.com/ZSYaCy7aX/

which then made a lot of sense bc it’s literally meant to be satosugu as frats (AAAAHHH 😫)

anyway so then I went on the account and discovered that first link right bc getos seggsy ass was the focus in the other one

and I just thought it was so fitting like the face is a bit off bc I think the darling artist is clearly a fellow geto girlie butttt the fit and stuff like yk how the insufferable man child was wearing fucking HO-HO glasses in the first chapter yeahh anyway hope u see it too and Imma do the good deed of passing word your fic onto the TikTok artist

forgot I was meant to be dot pointing

y/n

does anyone actually insert their name ? Idk I never have lol

love her

she usually ends up being my favourite character bc duh she’s girliepop

I struggle sm to read books bc like character names and stuff can throw me off so I prefer to dabble in GOOD fanfics every now and then (aka your masterpiece) or just indulge in smut when I’m ovulating 🙂‍↕️

ignore that

ummm so yeah I find books hard to get into since they start on a blank canvas and since I’m already obsessed with our marvellous blue eyed baby daddy fanfics are ideal cause they just build over that

anyway back to y/n I don’t actually remember what I was gonna say shes just bae

The slow burn holy shit especially the bed chapter like I kept going back and forth who’s gonna make a move only to fall asleep all bricked up at 2 AM 🥲

so well done

one random fav scene of mine is when he takes out the digimon credit card idk ur ideas and the way u write movement in scenes it just clicks for me

I like my shit my way. It’s all in my brain right these angst chronicles and I kinda just wanna see it written out bc I’m a lazy bitch and I cannot commit so I usually opt for like one shots or what not idk like “when he makes you cry” or “ when you use the safe word with them ft gojo, geto, toji” you know the gist of it

I have certain ideas in my head that I don’t like to compromise especially regarding y/n ig because I am her allegedly

but bro 😓

the way I folded for you omg 🙏

this deserves a list if it’s own lol but btw putting this out there I dont even except u to read through this shit I’m just in a yapping state of mind and I’ve come this far so ._. :

My first major red flag was the jeans

not my style okay I’d live my life in pretty little empire waistline lingerie night gowns if I could

First thought was “what in the white girl” butttt then my brain went “it’s giving Lana del Rey like when she was younger and was always seen by paparazzi just in a white tee and blue jeans + that one concert she did wearing jorts and a cute white top with hoop earring, chewing gum and smoking while singing summer time sadness like the absolute icon she is”

and bam I can fw it now 🤝

her hight is one thing I differ on tho cause I’m short so I blur my vision whenever u mention any kind of height or size related comparison with gojo bc ik it’s not accurate to me especially with that tree of a man and I want my moments too 😔

Shoko

I just don’t see her like that okay she’s so above gojos lanky ass in canon verse

but thennn as always u came through with the descriptionsss 🔥

the denim skirt

the sorority glitter cheeksss

hot.

okay I’m starting to sound 𝓁𝑒𝓈𝒷𝒾𝒶𝓃 my apologies

The age differences

honestly this wasn’t that much if a discrepancy I just found it a bit funny like todo as his homeboy lol

but yuji was so cute and I’m all for dad gojo but you’ve opened my mind to big brother gojo and I don’t see what’s not to like about it

As for the rest of the characters

Loved yuji as the bouncer (I didn’t know what that even was, again love how u actually know what u write about)

and also just that tiny crumb of megs when readers taking pictures, I can totally picture him as a soccer player

nanami was so odd to imagine but I settled on teen nanami with the emo hair and such

Choso

I just love chosos existence in this fic thanks for that 😌

OKAYYYYY this length of yap sesh should land me in a psych ward I spent a good hour and a half on this I’d say

but yes it’s due time I professed my ever growing admiration for you (💍 🔪)

I will check out if you’ve given fic recs but again I’m into the marriage pregnancy type shi and I do love me a good college au now more than ever so if u may 🤲

jk ‼️I DONT EXPECT YOU TO REPLY TO ANY OF THIS IM A BIG FAN REGARDLESS‼️

cannot wait for the next chapter (can he please dick us down hard already your edge game is something else 🫠)

xoxo 💋

OH WOW FIRST OF ALL THANK YOU VERY MUCH FOR THIS ASK?? i appreciate the love for kickoff sm :”) even though it’s not something you usually read!! and yes 💯 to that fanart

haha i actually know close to nothing about soccer. i just ask chatgpt a bunch of questions about it when i write 🤣 but i know a tiny bit ab film photography cuz one of my close friends studied film in college :) i’m so happy those aspects stick out to you!!

HAHA pls the whole bed scene in ch8 was a lot of fun to write. i just love domestic lil convos between two people, and the lil digimon scene made me emotional to write bc it reminded me of how nerdy canon gojo is LOL (i miss him sm)

i’m glad you like yn too!! tbh she’s the center focus of the story in my eyes haha gojo is just a side character 💀 and wymmm my girlie is SHORT too 🤣 well idk how short you’re talking haha but in my head she’s 5’4 cuz that’s how tall i am lol

thank you sm for interacting so deeply with my silly lil story 😭💕 sorry if i didnt respond to all aspects of your ask but i read it all and was cheesing so hard plskdjdhd. so glad you’re looking forward to more!! also haha i saw your follow up ask too and YES gojo as a cat dad wasn’t something on my kickoff bingo card but alas here we are 🤣 much love from me 💕

alsooo i do have another series called “in holy matriphony” that is a fake marriage au gojo x reader :0 just mentioning that since you said you’re in the domestic marriage sorts of stuff. it’s kind of a silly n crack fic vibes tho LOL maybe not the serious angsty stuff but it’ll have angst for sure too :”) just if you’re interested bb!! <3

[somelazyassartist]

Considering making the move to just stop using Etsy altogether and just make my own website to sell things, but I'm not sure it's a very good idea with how small my shop is...... Vent under cut bc I'm just kinda stressed out about the general state of things in life rn but the shop thing is just stressing me out the most in this specific current moment.

So like, Etsy's really nice for organization and management, and you get a way larger audience because people can find you through searches, and they don't take fees away from you until you've made a sale which is all good for me as a small creator, but. I am sooooooo sick of the stupid content policies that ban a good chunk of my queer art as NSFW when it's not (and you know what? Maybe I wanna make outright NSFW art too!! I'm ace but drawing bodies and characters interacting like that and stuff is just fun for me!! I think it's neat and interesting to express artistically and also I think being horny is fine and cool!! But every fuckin place I could've made a living off that is banning it and my SFW queer stuff too and I'm just so sick of it).

I just want to finally make my own place where I can sell my normal art AND my horny fagdyke weirdo art, instead of "oh you can find my merch on this site but my art on this site and my writing on this site and my NSFW on this site blah blah blah" I'm SICK OF IT I just want one place I don't have to fucking redirect everybody to a million places because their content policies are all over the fucking place!!!!! The only thing is that I'm broke as shit because I'm disabled and this is my only way to work currently, and the place I was looking at making a website on (bc I know an artist I like a lot sells NSFW stuff through there) costs like $15 a month, which is a lot to me!!!

I'm trying to get a fuck ton of old inventory out of my house because I can't afford to get much new stuff for my shop without those funds, but my shop generally only gets traffic when I add new items to said shop, so when I get to that point where I can't afford to get new shit all my activity just plummets completely, and if I can barely keep up with purchasing new inventory how am I gonna purchase new inventory AND pay $15 a month just to run the damn site???? Plus I just have other things I need to spend money on like medical supplies and funds to help my gf move and my monthly credit card payments and it's just like!!! I am not that bad off currently and I am fine and I am not in debt and I can mostly handle it but it is stressful is all!!!!

I kinda wanna just like. Do a massive fucking "leaving Etsy" sale and slash all the prices down WAY lower than usual to try to get some of the old stuff out and save up money to put up my own new site with new merch and hopefully redirect traffic there afterwards, but also I know logically that's a horribly impulsive move to make and would probably land me in a worse spot than ever without the proper planning to do something like that. But oh my god it's tempting right now.

[honourablejester]

Okay. Exu: Calamity, Episode 4. I’m only an hour in and I have to leave it for the night, but since that was already quite an hour, I figured I’d put up my somewhat live reactions. To, you know. Zerxus and Asmodeus. Because um.

Obviously, spoilers. And panicky ramblings as I repeatedly pause this episode to try and process things as they hit. It took me about three hours to make it an hour in. I realise this is probably not a sensible procedure to keep up for the other five hours tomorrow, unless I want to finish up next Friday sometime, so we’ll see how that goes when I pick this up again tomorrow. For now, have the panicky ramblings:

Zerxus sees a heart, and within it a writhing humanoid figure, briefly golden, and then settling into red hair (Evandrin’s???) trying to reach out

The figure is beyond the seam, still in whatever other plane

Asmodeus isn’t through, he’s trying one more wounded gazelle gambit for the last gasp, to get his heart through the seam

Zerxus wants to go his companions so bad, but all the answers are in the fire

(Luis: aw fuck, I know what Zerxus is going to do, and I know it’s the bad choice, but he’s gonna do it)

(All credit to him for going all in on his character)

A hand like Zerxus’ hand, ruby red, immune to the fire, reaches out to him across the event horizon and reaches him from beyond the plane, despite the figure being miles away

Asmodeus you motherfucker, he’s scared, apparently, motherfucker, he’s dying here, Zerxus will die to come to him, so Zerxus, of course, pulls him to him instead

(Aabria, despairingly: does the timestop stop?)

Zerxus, you pull the true heart of the Lord of the Hells into Exandria

The hand was his blood, Zerxus’ stolen blood, Asmodeus you absolute motherfucker, you stole the blood, you set this up days and weeks ago, you strung him along through the visions building to this moment, when he went down you brought him back up so he could do this, you put the protection on him so he’d survive long enough, fuck you’re good at this, you absolute shithead of a hell god

Fuck, though, he’s actually good at this, the set-up on that villain, motherfucker

Asmodeus looks like Zerxus now, blood bond

Brings devils and demons with him, shadows, Zartaza weeping in joy, Asmodeus having a little crying fit of victory

Luis: I lay my hand on his chest

Lou: trying to climb into his ipad while lying face-down on the table

Asmodeus mirrors. “Let’s get ourselves cleaned up” you motherfucker, echoes of episode 2, mirroring the old conversation

(Aside note from me: I don’t know if I can do this)

Zerxus: What will become of me? (Don’t ask that, shit son, it’s way too fucking late for that)

Asmodeus: Who can say? You are an oracle. I would think that you would know yourself.

(I am in absolute agreement with Lou’s face right now)

(Travis is also in agreement with Lou’s face right now)

Asmodeus cures him for 40 HP, of course he does, ‘whatever you wish to happen can happen, what do you …?’

They’re floating side by side through a time stopped explosion, lying horizontal, Asmodeus gazing at Zerxus as they fly hand-to-chest together, would you like to add more romance to this scenario, oh Lord of the Hells? Hmm?

Zerxus now moves his hand to his face, instead, holding it gently, my mistake, Zerxus would like to add more romance to this scenario right now

(I CANNOT RIGHT NOW)

Zerxus tries to cleanse him using Evandrin’s name stone

It links to the fragments of the incompleted atonement ceremony before

“I’m doing everything I can to get him to what I believe is the purest him”

(Honey it’s not going to work. The purest him already made this choice. He chose evil of his own free will before evil existed. You can’t get him back to purer than that. He invented evil, or at least part of it, and if he was telling the truth 2 episodes ago, he did so out of the belief that it would aid good. You can’t … there’s no ‘before’ state here. The Asmodeus-as-was already made this choice, and he’ll make the exact same one again. Every time. Evil in the cause of good. Alignment doesn’t matter, he’ll make this choice either way. This is his original alignment. His cause never required a shift of mentality from him.)

(Yes, I’m pausing and stalling because I know where this is going and I can’t yet, let me stall)

Asmodeus: I think you may be the most exceptional mortal I have ever known.

*leans into Zerxus shoulder, accepting his hand, as they sail romantically through the air*

Atonement isn’t working, and Asmodeus knows something’s up

Asmodeus: Is something supposed to happen now? What are you attempting to do?

(You know exactly what’s happening you absolute motherfucker, shut the hell up with this right now)

(Zerxus, please, please stop this, honey, you’re so far over the event horizon)

Asmodeus: I think I know what’s happening. The ritual of Evandrin, the resurrection, it didn’t work because you tried to resurrect him, but he wasn’t dead.

Zerxus: Right

Asmodeus: You’re trying to atone me, and I didn’t do anything wrong.

(And there it is. Yes, I’m immediately stalling again, but oh fuck. That was so perfectly built. All the seeds were sown two episodes ago. If he was telling the absolute truth. I actually had this in my first couple of drafts of analysis on that conversation. If he chose evil in the cause of good, then his alignment never shifted. There’s no way for atonement to work.

Of course, he could have actually succeeded his save against atonement, and he just wants Zerxus to think his alignment never shifted, for this reason, and I don’t know if that’s better or worse. Which is worse to be dealing with, a zealot of immovable morals, or a manipulator so skilled that he knows exactly how the thought processes of both good and evil work well enough to pretend to be either? In the first there is intrinsically no hope, in the second there’s potentially false hope. Which is worse?

Anyway. Okay. Deep breath. Moving on)

*stabs Zerxus through the heart* You wanna know what I’ve always hated about mortals? *starts digging his claws into Zerxus’ head*

Zerxus, ROARING: You’re wrong!

*tries Remove Curse instead* (HONEY! WE’RE SO PAST THAT POINT! But a paladin gotta try, and try, and keep trying)

(For real I can’t do this, I keep flinching and pausing, I can’t fucking do this)

Asmodeus is laughing as Zerxus keeps trying

Zerxus: This is not who you are! This is not who you are.

Asmodeus: WHO AM I?

Zerxus: Not this! How have you forgotten?! You think you know how you came here? You think you stumbled upon this place?

(Sidenote: I love Brennan’s coolly humouring and unimpressed expressions as the Lord of the Hells faced with this … Zerxus, you don’t know! You don’t know how he came here! You don’t know where he came from! Honey, I love you, but you don’t know anything. And you’re about to find out. Badly. We’ve already started with a stab to the chest, you’ve got excellent lung capacity around the lump of fucking steel(?) in your lungs, but honey you didn’t even lose control of this situation a while ago, you never had control of this situation. Well, you sort of did, but you were set up so you would willfully surrender it. And you did exactly that, and here we are)

Zerxus: Look at me, look at me, I am the godless! I am a conduit of divinity that is far greater and more ancient that anything you have ever understood!

(Oh. Avalir’s hubris rears its head once again. Oh dear. And Marisha’s face. Not to mention Brennan’s face, Asmodeus is enjoying this so much, nodding gently along)

Zerxus: Look at me. You didn’t stumble upon this place, you and your kin, you were called here. We have always been here. You were wandering in the abyss, lost, and we called you here. So that you can have a home. You didn’t create anything. We have always been here. You came and you shaped, you took and you changed and you shaped, but you didn’t create a thing. You’re no god.

(Oh. Are we … Are we doing … What is a god to a non-believer, is that what we’re doing right now? And … Okay. So. There’s some cause. If mages can become gods. If the god in front of you has lied to you. Why would you believe what he says of creation? There’s … I mean, this is a much more visceral version of this argument than you can get in our world, when you can argue with the potential god in the flesh, but … It seems idiotic, you with your mortal lifespan telling a being aeons old what he is and what he did and what he thought, but if you know he lies, why would his version be any more true? There’s … cause. There’s a rational underpinning. But oh god does it feel so flimsy in the face of actual Satan in this moment)

(Sidenote: Lou is hiding his whole face behind his hands from Luis and what’s happening and I feel that. I feel that urge. It’s so hard to stop stalling and keep watching)

Zerxus: You’re a child

(Aaannnddd I’m right back out again, immediate pause, immediate stop, oh my god, honey, there’s … any and all rationality to your argument aside, can you not condescend to the Lord of the fucking Hells right now, please and fucking thank you)

Zerxus: You are a child, you’re lost, how do you not see that?

(Not gonna lie, if I was Asmodeus this second I would bitch-slap the man across the city, oh my fucking god, well done to the Lord of the Hells for keeping his cool so far)

(Zerxus, I’m just, I’m just gonna say that, as redemption tactics go, this is, this is not good)

Asmodeus: You have referred to yourself and your fellow mortals as our children. You are not our children. You are … a bad first draft. The first plan was to destroy all this, to let you fade into nothingness. That’s not gonna be how we do it this time. You think that you are a man of true belief and that it is all these wizards around you that are humbled. Who is the most proud man here? These ones that thought they would fly a city? Or the man who thought he would teach me a lesson? The only difference between you and the Dawnfather is that the Dawnfather is a little more humble.

(… Oof. Go off, Satan)

Asmodeus: Now, I’ll tell you why I spit on your forgiveness. I’ll tell you why I loathe your redemption. To reach a hand down to somebody, they need to be BENEATH YOU. And I’m beneath nobody.

(It’s pride vs pride in here, ladies and gents, ding ding, round three!)

(And, look, multiple personality and character tests have told me that pride is my number one sin myself, I know of what I speak here, I am both the people in this conversation many, many times, this is why I know it’s going bad)

(I mean, that and the fact that Satan already has a sword in your gut and has invaded your world, those are also key signs of badness, but howandever)

Asmodeus: You wanted to understand me? Then you should have accepted that I WAS RIGHT!

Brennan: and he pulls the back of your head and rips the skin off of your skull

(Okay. So that’s. Okay then. This is fine.

Zerxus resilient sphere’s himself, Asmodeus 9th level counters, smashes him into the floor and breaks his spine, like. That’s. I mean. What did we expect from the Lord of the Hells?

And then heals him again, this is why healing magic is the worst thing to have in an enemy. The Life Domain is a torturer’s wet dream.)

Asmodeus: In the vision in the Hall of Prophecy, you told me that you would help me confront those who did this to me. Wake up Zerxus, YOU did this to me! You and your kin. You think my enemy are the prime deities? *spits* Those. Are. My. Siblings. We were happy once. Together. We travelled here, together. Has it never dawned on you that before the Schism, all was well between us? We came here to make something. And then, one of our puppets, one of our foolish paper dolls, mattered so much to them that they threw us into the Pit. You think that my quarrel is with them? No. All of you did something to them. You made them turn their back on us. My greatest heartbreak is that when I have collected every mortal soul and all of my siblings into my pit, that I will only have eternity to punish them.

(… Ah. Okay. So. Not the zealot of pure morals, then. That’s … Is that good? The manipulator, not the zealot. Vengeance, not evil in pursuit of good. Does that mean there is hope for redemption, if someone can get the atonement to stick? Or is that just more false hope? If it didn’t work for Zerxus, who, it must be said, made a somewhat slapdash effort at best, or Sarenrae, then … I mean, probably not, but if this is vengeance and not principle, then there might be more of a chance. In theory.

It's weird, this speech is more visceral and accompanied by literal torture, but I find it less terrifying that his significantly gentler speech in episode 2. This motivation is pettier and more visceral, and therefore less terrifying and awe-inspiring than the remote and pitiless ‘I chose evil to make good matter’. It’s good, I think. It makes evil immediately smaller and more manageable.

I wonder if that’s my arrogance talking. Heh.)

Zerxus is … dying repeatedly, and sending tactical information along his telepathic link to Tempus.

Zerxus: Wait. You’re right. You’re right.

Luis: I mean, can I do that, or is he gonna rip my face off again?

Brennan: I mean, this is his vision. Endless torment without death. This is what he is here to do.

(I love how the tables are trying to de-stress any way they possibly can right now)

On an Insight check of 21 into the Lord of the Hells: You see the Father of Lies. You see it was so easy for him. And what you see is you have fought abominations and undead before, you have fought things that are of an alien need for destruction, cold, unfeeling things that are anathema to life itself, and this is not the Lord of Hells. There is an infinite hatred behind his eyes, purer than anything you can imagine. Perhaps at one point he wore a golden face,

Luis: But that’s long gone

Brennan: And, behind his eyes when they were of gold, this hatred lived.

(No. No, atonement wouldn’t have worked)

Brennan: You see in him that, unlike the aberration or undead hatreds you have faced in the past, it is not beyond, it is something that each human has the gift of, because he doesn’t just hate you, he hates everybody. And he doesn’t hate them in an alien way, he wants them to know that they deserve it.

Luis: Zerxus processes all of that, and you just see … pity.

(Is that my arrogance talking? Thinking it makes him smaller and more manageable? I feel like I’ve fallen into the exact same trap Zerxus is about to. It’s a human-like hatred, so it’s human curable. No hatred is beyond redemption, if it’s something close enough that you can see into it and understand. Is that arrogance? I feel like pity in this instance might be arrogance. But I echo it)

(With, I will admit, a bit of contempt, which definitely is arrogance. Now I’m calling him a child, aren’t I? I thought his motivations cooler and more terrifying when I thought they were more remote and principled, but when they’re mere emotion, hatred, I think them lesser. I feel like I’m learning about my own biases and arrogance over here.)

Zerxus: You hate everything. So purely. Oh you poor thing. Look at how much you hate yourself.

(… Okay, I’m not that bad, holy fuck, did you just oh you poor thing him? Like, you can feel his hatred is pitiable while also acknowledgeing that he’s ancient and powerful enough to destroy a world, maybe? Or is this the instinct to make evil lesser, to better fight it? Like, you have to reduce him to something small, something you can fight, or you just despair right there? No force should be massive enough that we can’t at least fight it. Hubris. Necessity. Hope. Avalir’s defining question. Where’s the line between them?)

Asmodeus: You know what your fault is, Zerxus? Other than just being very trusting? You truly believe that you are above this all, this city that you will not call home, me, the gods. But I’m not the one who left my little son down in that city for all of my devils to find.

(I fucking knew he’d go for Elias, I fucking knew it, he’s the Lord of the Hells, what’s the most pain you can put a father through? Of course)

Asmodeus: So I think you’re going to make a very good champion for me.

*kills Zerxus again, his spirit starts to be released*

Asmodeus: Sorry about your sword. I tend to have that effect. But, the fact that you … pity me, doesn’t spoil anything for me, because I think that you are my greatest champion, Zerxus. So. If you’d like to be back in the world …

*crushes and explodes Xartaza into blood and creates the mace*

Asmodeus: … that’s there. For you to pick up if you want, Zerxus. But you know the cost you pay for it. But I won’t force you. The afterlife awaits.

(And on that masterful bombshell of an absolute dick move, I might have to leave this for the night)

(I’m an hour and ten minutes into this fucking episode, this thing is going to kill me)

[fedzkun]

Villain Hunt Arc Meta: All For One’s Horrific Guide to Methodically Breaking Down Your Local OFA Holder

Ft. Turning the ‘Overpoweredness’ of OFA into a Setback, and AFO’s Successful Manipulations Of Midoriya Izuku

In which I also give AFO too much credit for all the pain he’s probably caused, and theorize that his plans to break Izuku actually started getting enacted even before he’d escaped Tartarus.

(A.k.a. me loving the angst because this is really good angst writing, but also hating it because the manga doesn’t come with a Angst with A Happy Ending tag unless you count Izuku’s ‘this is the story of how I became the greatest hero’ which isn’t really a guarantee of happiness )

So. What an arc! In the span of ten chapters (starting from the end of the War arc) Hori delivered a full-on Villain-looking, Vigilante Midoriya Izuku. Congratulations, Horikoshi, for finally introducing Akatani Mikumo!

The fast pacing and lack of breather panels are so fitting for this arc truly. AFO never gave them a moment’s rest. Yes, from henceforth as he’d promised... It’s always going to be his turn.

Izuku is making amazing progress with unlocking the full power of One For All. In his words, his abilities might as well already be on par with what a healthier All Might could do, and with no recoil to boot. Plus, there’s only one last quirk to unlock. For villain fights, I don’t think we need to worry about him losing, or him breaking anymore bones at this time.

Which, some might argue, makes Izuku too ‘OP.’

To start with, I want to talk first about the ‘overpoweredness’ of the One For All quirk. It’s a wonderful quirk truly, having inspired and amazed so many because of its sheer power. Used well, it could grant instant victories and restore the people’s wavering faith to the heroes. Because with a quirk like that on your side, everything’s going to be alright, right? There’s always gonna be that bit of hope that something is still strong enough to stand against the looming evil...right?

Yeah. That’s what the people who’d lived under All Might’s Era of Peace thought so too. History repeats.

OFA’s ‘OP-ness’ is both a great blessing and a great burden.

Here are some points on how the narrative has made OFA's 'overpoweredness' a setback:

1. All For One—that bastard—exploits the urge that comes with OFA. Just as ‘AFO the quirk’s’ goal is to steal OFA, OFA’s job is to defeat AFO, and Izuku is sacrificing himself to its cause.

Here’s another thing I want to point out: The conclusion that the heroes drew about AFO planning to capture Midoriya Izuku alive? In rereading, I’m starting to believe it’s nothing but a mere assumption of his plans. Aside from the deal made with Lady Nagant—of which I think AFO didn’t take seriously anyway and set her up for failure— (and while we as readers are already aware of his true intentions to wear Izuku down) it’s weird that nowhere had AFO directly mentioned to Izuku that he’s going to kidnap him and take his quirk from him.

2. OFA made Izuku so brilliant (e.g. Pros and former Pros alike going “This kid...”) that they really can't help but place all their hopes on him. Sighs. In an ideal world, this would be a dream come true of Izuku getting his due credit for all his heroic achievements Pro heroes have started to do to Izuku what they’ve done all their lives to All Might--which is to put him on the pedestal, while they fall back to cover him like guards/safety net. Hence, falling back to the One Pillar Model mindset.

3. OFA makes Izuku untouchable, not only to the villains, but also to his allies. Prime material to reinforce isolation. And if Izuku doesn't want to be caught, he won't make it easy for either side.

4. OFA IS SUS AF, OKAY? What are the Holders doing?! While gaining access to them makes it easier and convenient to have personal trainers in handling OFA, the vestiges prove to add a lot to Izuku’s mental load. If they’d allowed Izuku to come to the point of being caked with blood and filth, they’re not doing very well at guiding him. Realize that most of their arc interactions with Izuku is Quirk Talk. They, of all people, should know how AFO’s machinations work! Hey First, for the love of god, warn Izuku! He’s showing so many signs of being manipulated that you should be picking up on. please /sobs ;;

Tbf, like, I’m pretty sure that the Holders haven’t been as mentally okay either, which would feed into Izuku’s current mindset.

Now that the setbacks have been listed, let’s dive in to AFO’s plans to toy with Midoriya Izuku.

PHASE 1: Pre-Tartarus Breakout

Speaking of OFA being sus, there’s something that has been niggling at the back of my mind.

All For One basically tells Izuku: “You were my main interest that entire time I was in prison”. So, to pass the time in Tartarus (since he can’t use any(?) of his quirks), AFO has been doing nothing but apparently daydreaming and designing a personal hell for the Ninth Holder during that entire period. HOWEVER, it also made me wonder…

…Even before he’d broken out, had AFO made any moves at all in enacting his plans to break Izuku?

Yeah?

And here’s the kicker: he says that before Blackwhip bursted out.

AFO is a master manipulator. Assuming that Izuku doesn’t have any latent AFO quirk (for whatever reason *coughs* maybe dfo if you're a believer) or that Quirk Singularity has anything to do with it, what is the trigger to Izuku suddenly having access to Blackwhip?

I’d argue that it is All For One himself.

Why? What’s his goal? If you notice during the Joint Training arc, Izuku is feeling pretty confident about his progress. He’s rather happy and feeling blessed, and he is making leaps and bounds with base power OFA.

AFO can’t have that. He can’t allow the Ninth Holder to become too emotionally stable, or else he’d have a stronger will. So by somehow activating Blackwhip, AFO makes Izuku feel like he hasn’t made any progress with his quirk at all. During the evaluations, Izuku mentions that he still needs a lot to work on, and while not all of it is visible, with the way he behaves, it’s pretty evident that his self-confidence has taken a rather large hit.

But, wait! If AFO had tampered with OFA during the JT arc, paving the way to unlocking the rest (like he’d also done during the War arc when he tried to ‘steal’ it then), then wouldn’t AFO be sabotaging himself since he’d be making Izuku a more formidable opponent?

Sure. Except that the quirks inside OFA are mostly useless when it comes to the mental part of the fighting. The only thing they’re useful for is for the current Holder to be able to play keep-away in the physical realm. And AFO could easily just find counters for those through his work on Tomura.

You know how else the situation becomes advantageous for AFO? With every quirk unlocked, Izuku’s goalposts keep on getting away from him, and Izuku will always feel like he isn’t ready or prepared enough. Izuku will push and push himself to master OFA to its fullest, to become more powerful, at the cost of his mental/emotional stability and physical wellbeing as he wears himself down.

And every time Izuku grew more powerful, and became more ‘OP,’ he is burdened with all the aforementioned setbacks that came with it. He could be the most powerful person in the world, but it’s all for naught if he doesn’t take care of himself. This plan is both a high risk and high reward on AFO’s part, and as of the moment, with a bloody Izuku staggering all over, AFO is visibly reaping these high rewards.

PHASE 2: Post-Tartarus Breakout

He’s going to toy with Izuku until Izuku fucking breaks. What follows is his series of actions that instills the desired responses from Midoriya Izuku. Let’s see how the master manipulator plays this game of chess, shall we?

Izuku’s plan: Reach out to villains and try to save them.

AFO’s counter: Kill off those who turn their back against villainy and/or acknowledge Izuku as a true hero.

Izuku’s resulting response: Stop reaching out to villains. Gain an instant victory and move on.

After all, what do you get when you block a hero from showing sympathy? You get an unfeeling living weapon.

---

Izuku’s plan: Work with the top pro heroes to bring down AFO.

AFO’s counter: Make plans that will serve to highlight how the top pros are just slowing Izuku down. (e.g. Making moves while it’s raining, so as to divide them, but also to bring out No. 1 Hero Endeavor’s "slowness" in the rain. Nope, I don’t think that’s a throwaway line at all.)

Izuku’s resulting response: Grows more reckless, often leading the charge.

---

Izuku’s plan: Track AFO down.

AFO’s counter: Lead them to dead-ends. Or when they do supposedly reach something, endanger them.

Izuku’s resulting response: His tunnel vision worsens, as he grows more desperate.

---

Izuku’s plan: All Might following him around is okay since it would help All Might from worrying so much, and Izuku could simultaneously keep an eye on and protect All Might.

AFO’s counters: There are a lot to really fuck with this bond, damn you AFO.

Taint that passing the torch memory of ‘You’re Next.’

Declare that All Might no longer interests him. Liar. He outright stated before that he’s one for keeping a grudge

Send another assassin to Izuku [Underlying Message: You yourself are a walking danger zone to those whom you dearly care for.]

Izuku’s resulting response:

Interpret that memory of ‘You’re Next’ as taking up the position of being AFO’s shiny new plaything, and therefore supposedly sparing All Might from the torment (Unfortunately, making Izuku push AM away is just part of the torment ;A;)

Think that AM is no longer in the direct line of fire as long as AFO focuses on Izuku

Finally, push his last line of morale support away, and completely isolate himself.

Btw, I wonder how All Might feels about Izuku using Nana's quirk to get away from him.

---

The suffering doesn’t end.

Izuku’s plan: Save people.

AFO’s counters: (possibly offscreen) Send more villains and assassins to torment Izuku some more with the knowledge that he can’t save them. Sending villains out also puts innocents in danger.

Izuku’s resulting response: He won’t stop for anything. He won’t sleep, won’t eat, won’t slow down. He will always do his best to save as long as someone is in danger.

His body will keep on moving and moving and MOVING on its own.

--- All For One is very effective as a supervillain. He has managed to make the heroes think that his only goal is to capture Izuku alive for his quirk. He has Izuku right where he wants him: dancing to his tune at the palm of his hand, utterly toyed with, left with no escape in sight.

Psychologically vaulted.

.

.

.

PHASE 3

And so, if Izuku is being manipulated to drive himself further and further into self-destruction, what then is there left for All For One to do?

So much more. Because, my god, I think AFO has mastered the art of traumatizing the OFA Holders.

All For One once told All Might, “I will destroy all that you’ve protected.” And boy, is he delivering. He's definitely not done with AM btw.

First, he destroys All Might's image. And he is manipulating Izuku to drive himself to that point. To looking into his absolute worst.

And when that point arrives, AFO will hammer the final nail home.

Something like...

BEHOLD

JAPAN’S SYMBOL OF PEACE.

And oh, how it'll hurt. To see All Might's pride and joy be flaunted about as looking nothing like a hero to the masses, for him to be so utterly humiliated.

"See what I did to All Might's successor."

AFO will be banking upon the possibility that the angry masses will not want to be saved by whom they're tricked into viewing as someone that's the cause of all the pain. Izuku might have the willpower to stay true to his resolve, but with him on the verge of total breakdown, what would happen when he is shunned by the very people he is trying to help?

I once wrote a post about how the current events seem to be a bastardization of Izuku's wildest fantasies: he's working with the top pros, he has the most powerful quirk, and he's working with All Might (whom technically acts as a sidekick to him rn).

AFO has warped all that into a never-ending nightmare. And Izuku...

Izuku is really in need of saving.

Last thoughts:

Let me just say that it shouldn't be a competition about who gets to get through to Izuku. Right now, he’s gonna need all the help he can get, and it can’t be delivered by only one or two people. Saving Izuku is going to be a team effort, a solid support system that sees Izuku as their classmate/friend/student/actual person that they care about. And there’s sufficient space for that.

More hands reaching out means more chances to catch him if he falls.

[blackacre13]

Can you do a part 2 to the rival gangs au?

Part one (Debbie POV) is here; here’s part two (Lou POV)

“How about this? We pick a job. We both go for it. Best con wins. You pull this off, you’ll never see me again. Or you do. Your choice. But I won’t bother you again. I pull this off? You date me.”

“You mean work with you,” Debbie stuttered.

“Is that what I said?” Lou winked.

“You’re not as charming as you think you are,” the brunette huffed.

“You’re right,” lou nodded. “I’m even more suave than I give myself credit for.”

“That’s not what—“

“The choice is yours, Debbie Ocean,” she grinned, slipping her sunglasses back on as she threw a stack of cash on the table. “But we both know you can’t say no to a challenge. Especially one that could definitely end in hot, mind blowing sex.”

“How’d it go boss?”

The young woman in the beanie threw a carton of cigarettes at the blonde as she caught it between two fingers, taking one out of its place and positioning it between her lips before tossing a single cigarette back, the girl wrinkling her face at it, unsure as she examined it before popping it in her mouth the way a child would suck on a free lollipop from the bank.

Lou shook her head as she chuckled, taking her lucky lighter out of her blazer pocket to light the cigarette. Silence spilled between them aside from the busy street and honking of horns as she took a long drag before answering, offering out the lighter as the other woman shook her head, rolling the cigarette between her fingers now as a fidget toy instead.

“She’s toast,” Lou smirked, slamming her boot back against the wall as she melted against the brick, breathing in the city air. “She’s not used to people being able to read her. That’s for sure. And she definitely didn’t like that I could. Well, professionally at least. In other areas…”

“You got the hots for the enemy?”

“Constance,” Lou sighed, before cracking a grin. “She’s alright,” the blonde lied.

“You’re in love,” Constance grinned. “This is some Romeo and Juliet shit.”

“Please,” the blonde snorted. “Neither of us is that stupid. Nobody’s dying or faking their death. I’m just claiming what’s mine.”

“Debbie Ocean?” Constance asked, her eyes wide.

“New York,” Lou rolled her eyes, stepping away from the wall as she silently motioned for Constance to follow her around the corner. “But you know how I love mixing business with pleasure.”

“Dad, gross.”

“Thanks to Nine, I know way more about Debbie than she does about us. She’s been running cons with the same contacts for years. Dad’s in the game. Brother’s in the game.”

“Mr. Fancy suits Bellagio is her brother?” Constance howled. “Oh man, this is dope.”

“Yeah and that prick with the NSYNC frosted tips is his partner.”

“That Moldy guy?”

“Rusty,” Lou scoffed. “Not that that’s any better. But she’s pissed. She knows we ran Danny out of Vegas. And I’m sure he told her not to bother and to back off. But she’s more stubborn than I am so I expect a fight from her and I’d be a fool to underestimate her. She’s smart, Con. Bloody smart. She could be good for us.”

“Trust,” Constance laughed. “She’s not gonna wanna fall into line as one of your soldiers. Not like some of us who are actually cool,” she winked. “And you don’t look ready to take a backseat or retire.”

“Who knows,” Lou shrugged, kicking at the sidewalk. “Could be nice. Drive up the coast. Back to picking pockets and crashing at cheap motels. Drive out to the beach. Just run the occasional job when they need me. Maybe open a bar.”

Constance stopped them, tugging on Lou’s belt loop as the blonde stopped in her tracks, raising a brow at her.

“Hello? Dad? Did you hit your head? Didn’t you just move here a few months ago because fuck the beach and those Aussie twats, I’m taking over the states and no one’s getting in my way? Where’d that Lou go? Dude. How bad is this crush?”

“Can it,” Lou huffed, but she cracked a grin. “Come on. Nine should be a block away. We’ll talk strategy. I’m not going anywhere, kid. I’m just saying, maybe it would be nice to have a mom for this crew too. You know?”

“Are you sure you didn’t get concussed back there?”

[chuckbass-love]

hii! I have a request for prompt 71 with Andy or ransom ☺️

Hey lovely, thank you so much for waiting this long for me to post this and i really hope you enjoy reading it just as much as i enjoyed writing it.

Prompt #71: "I'm gonna fuck you in front of the mirror, i want you to see how pretty you look when you're spreading your legs for me"

Disclaimer: My work is not to be translated or to be posted anywhere else other than MY Tumblr, Wattpad and Ao3 without my permission. However, reblogs are welcome.

Pairing: Andy Barber x Fem!Reader

Warning: Swearing, unprotected sex, rough sex, ass spanking, vagina spanking, oral (f receiving), orgasm denial, daddy kink, breeding kink and angst.

Word Count: 3,486

GIF NOT MINE!!! Credit to @sergeantbuckybarnes go check them out💜

In The Mirror

Standing in the middle of the master bedroom, you start to fold the freshly washed clothes before putting them away neatly in the closet. You start off by putting shirts away, Andy’s and then yours before moving on to jeans. Sometimes you wonder how he even has the room for his own clothes since you take up the majority of the space. But you just put that down to shopping trips he's so insistent on treating you to.

As you’re just finishing up, you hear the front door open before it slams shut so hard that the anger fuelling the slam of it can be felt even upstairs where you are.

Looks like Andy is finally home...

You decide to finish up with what you’re currently doing, taking your time before approaching your husband with caution. It was probably another run in with Neil, something you’ve grown accustom to dealing with ever since you met him. Doesn’t mean you don’t run out of ways to handle it occasionally though, your best option is to just allow him to vent before you distract him. Usually distracting him requires an old movie and takeout but other times it requires rough and needy sex.

“Andy” you call out as you pad down the stairs and into the kitchen, only to find him practically chugging a beer way to quickly. It must be bad if he couldn’t even wait until dinner to drink alcohol.

“You know sometimes i think why do i even bother going to work. I mean, Lynn sure seems to enjoy screwing me over for that fucking prick Neil and i’ve had just about enough of it”

Okay, now he’s really angry. You have no idea what to do or even what to say to him, you’re rendered speechless by his cursing and boiling temper.

“I was just about to make dinner, uh, lasagne perhaps. Or maybe we could order takeout again and rent that movie you were telling me about. It’s up to y-“

“Did you not listen to a goddam word i said? I don’t give a shit about dinner, do whatever. I’m going to take a shower” his decibels rise, his tone scolding as he storms past you and up the stairs taking two at a time until he reaches the top. You hear his heavy footsteps stomping to the bedroom and then suddenly it all turns quiet until the shower water starts to run.

Rather than leaving him to cool off, you decide to head up to check on him.

In a way, he was right. You practically ignored his annoyed state and changed the subject, in fact you couldn’t have changed it fast enough. But that’s only because you didn’t know what to say. When he gets like that, there’s not a lot you can say.

“Andy, i’m sorry” you squeak, stepping into the master bedroom to find him stood with his back to you as he removes his dress shirt and tie. His back muscles tense as he stands still for a second before turning around and tossing his clothes to the floor before starting on his belt.

“Andy” you mumble, desperate for him to acknowledge you.

“What?” he snaps, slipping out of all clothes until he’s in nothing but his birthday suit, his impressive size dangling between his legs.

“I’m sor-“

“I heard you”

You gently step closer to him, examining his face for any tell tale signs of discomfort before you rest your hand on his right forearm, “please, just talk to me. What happened today?”

“Like you care, all you seemed to give a shit about was dinner, so how about you go focus on that like a good little house wife and leave me to deal with the tough shit... does that sound like a deal?”

“That’s not fair, Andy. I didn’t know what to say to you, that’s all. You’ve had that many run ins with Neil lately that i lose sight of how to help you. But i’m here now, just talk to me. Tell me what i can do to make it better”

Silence.

His hand pulls from your touch, but before you can even understand what’s going on you’re back is already touching his toned tatted chest. His arms rest on your shoulders, keeping you pressed against him.

“Well, there is one thing...” he starts, moving your hair to the other side of your neck, freeing up some skin for him to feast on. His mouth nears closer, his hot breath fanning you torturously as his nose nudges at you. That’s when you feel his hands fiddle with the hem of your shirt teasingly, slowly lifting it up your torso with ease. You lift your arms in the air, allowing him to remove it before he discards it behind him without a care.

“Such a beautiful body, honey. Be a shame to waste it fretting away about dinner in that kitchen” you gulp in response, feeling his lips barely grazing the nape of your neck, the action causes a shiver to dance down your spine as his beard scratches you.

“Andy” your voice is nothing but a breathless whimper as you turn to face him, his hands instantly rest on your waist at the band of your booty shorts. Of course when he tugs at them, you know what he’s after now and you also know that no matter what you do or say, he’ll take it regardless.

He drops down to his knees, surrendering to your body and dragging your shorts down your legs as he sinks to the floor. You step out of them for him, even going as far as to kick them to one side before he pushes you back to the wall.

The palm of his hand gives your calf a soft squeeze as the other lifts your leg up to drape over his shoulder, your aching sex on show for his lustful orbs to focus on. The insatiable hunger is starting to drown out his mind, body and soul, he’s incapable of thinking of anything else but you, craving anything else but you.

He’s starving, desperate to taste you.

A couple more minutes pass with him peppering kisses along your ankle at first before moving up to your calf and then your thigh. You try to push him away due to the sensitivity there but he only forces you off him, he’s so much stronger than you could ever be and you know now that you’ve lost.

He presses another chaste kiss to your bundle of nerves before pausing and feeling your body react to his touch. Your shaking body begs to be worshipped and devoured whilst he begs to drink and breathe you in like you’re his only lifeline.

“Smell so good” he coos, poking his tongue out to give your clit a kitten lick as his nose nudges at your mound, the action causes you to roll your eyes to the back of your head. Whatever you did to deserve this agonising torture, you will make sure to never do it again. This is teasing at its peak.

“Please, Andy. I need you”

“Oh you’ll have me, alright” his response is quick yet snappy as he dives into you. His mouth latches onto your sex aggressively, sucking, slurping and biting. His beard scratching your inner thighs and it's sure to leave a burn there.

The tip of his tongue points all the more as he winds it around your clit rapidly and even with one hand gripping your hips roughly whilst the other strokes your leg up and down before settling on your ass, you still feel unsteady as if the smallest wave of pleasure could knock you to the floor.

His mouth right where you want him comes and goes as he takes breaks in between to come up for air, but right when you feel yourself getting lost in the feeling, it comes to a complete halt.

You glance down at him, eyelids heavy, chest rising and falling, only to find him rising to his feet.

“What the hell, Andy?” you ask, your entire body heating up.

“You sound angry” he cocks his head to the side as he grazes his hand across your hardened nipple.

“I am”

“Now, that’s exactly how i felt when i came home. Yet instead of comforting me like a good little wife should do, you made me feel worse. So therefore, you don’t deserve to cum”

What the hell is wrong with him tonight?

He shoots you a wink before padding into the bathroom, the shower water still running and steaming up all of the mirrors in your eye-line until he closes the door, locking it to prevent you from entering and leaving you standing there perplexed at his actions.

He did all of that on purpose. He built you up to the edge of ecstasy before leaving you to come crashing down all alone, all in the name of proving a point.

You reach for your robe off the hook on the bedroom door before storming out, brimming with frustration as you make a start on the dinner. Lasagne will do for tonight.

You prep it as fast as you can whilst the oven preheats to the correct temperature before putting it in and setting the timer. Now you can relax.

As soon as you throw yourself down onto the couch and flick the tv on, you hear the bathroom door open. You’re almost certain that he expected you to wait for him like a lost puppy dog but you refuse to play into his petty games of revenge. All because you didn’t comfort him. It was silly and unnecessary.

So for now, you’ll indulge in some reality television whilst you wait for dinner to cook and if there’s one thing that’s for certain, it’s that you are most definitely not putting out for him tonight. No matter what he says or how much he sweet talks you. It’s not good enough for him to treat you like that.

Whatever Neil did or said, that’s a work problem.

Andy can’t believe his eyes when he comes back into the bedroom only to find it empty. He wraps his white towel around his waist, covering up his modesty before heading out into the hallway and down the stairs. As he reaches the bottom of them, he spots you watching tv in the lounge, giggling away at whatever The Kardashian family are doing now, but whatever it is, he doesn’t care.

Instead of leaving you be, he stomps over “what do you think you’re doing?” he inquires, voice bellowing more than he intended “i’m waiting for the lasagne to cook, it’s in the oven. Enjoy your shower, honey?” you probe sarcastically, a rhetorical question. However your sarcasm infuriates him further as he picks you up with ease.

“Andy, put me down. NOW” you shout, kicking your legs and slapping his upper back as he drapes you over like you weigh nothing.

“Dinner is in the oven” you remind him, desperate to avoid burning it. But that’s when he puts you down before walking over to the kitchen and turning the oven off.

Your eyes widen as he approaches you once again, picking you up and carrying you up the stairs, taking them two at a time as he always does.

“Andy” you groan until he places you back onto your own two feet, his hands practically rip your robe off to expose your naked body before he does the same to the towel covering his manhood up.

“I’ll tell you what’s about to happen, honey and you’re going to listen” he informs you, stepping closer and moving you to stand in front of the mirror. You correct your abysmal posture as you look back at him in the mirror. A sinister glint in his eyes becomes crystal clear as a wicked grin graces his handsome face. His beard full, his hair still wet from the shower as droplets of water drip down his chest.

“I’m gonna fuck you in front of the mirror, i want you to see how pretty you look when you’re spreading your legs for me” the pure filth has you holding your breath in shock before exhaling dramatically.

He’s always been kinky but sometimes he still manages to leave you shocked. Although it’s times like these that you love him the most, the whines and whimpers he draws from you so effortlessly, the way he causes your body to tremble raggedly and most of all the way your entire world stops turning as he brings you to that cliff edge, pushing you off of it with his two large menacing hands.

He kicks your legs apart further before pulling your arms to the back of you. He hooks his arm inside of them to prevent you from moving away from him whilst his other hand massages your puffy petal like folds before circling your dripping entrance.

Once his tip is resting directly at the tight hole, he proceeds to move forward, the skin around your entrance catching onto him as your walls welcome him inside.

“Oh, fuckkk” he draws out the word, groaning and gasping for air as he drives home, the feeling overwhelming you to the limit.

How can one man have such a firm and tight grip on you like this?

How did you end up here, unable to utter out a single word as his pace picks up before he’s fucking into you so violently, snapping his hips with no signs of slowing down.

“Keep your eyes on yourself, honey, do as i say” he warns, and the moment you look up at him, you see the darkness and it causes you to look away, focusing back on yourself just like he instructed you to do.

The feeling of his cock dragging along your walls so fast is enough to cause the knot in your stomach to tighten painfully. The pleasure is almost too intense to bare, too much for your fragile body to handle. Yet you continue to take it, allowing him to fuck away his anger, channeling it into this moment.

His arm and hand tightens around your arms, holding you in place as he keeps his sights on you, watching as your mouth hangs open in the perfect O shape. Fuck, you look perfect like this with him bending you to his will, using you for the sole purpose of his pleasure and his pleasure only.

How did he get so lucky to be graced with you’re beauty?

The harder he snaps his hips into you, the more the coil tightens and the all too familiar feeling builds all the more inside of you. An ongoing reminder of your impending orgasm.

“Andy, i-i’m gonna c-cum” you tell him, begging for him to allow you the privilege of releasing, the privilege of creaming all over his rock hard cock.

A dark chuckle erupts from his throat, mocking your pleas for a release before tutting at you, the torment continuing.

“Please” you beg once again, only to be reprimanded with the harsh sting of his hand landing on your ass cheek “keep your eyes on the mirror, honey. You’ll come when i tell you to, quit being a brat”

The need to release is almost unbearable, tears of pleasure welling in your eyes and drowning out your vision before you blink, allowing them to stream down your innocent looking face for him to see. It only spurs him on more as he moves his free hand in from of you, kicking your legs further apart before smacking down on your sex brutally. Your body jerks in response before somewhat relaxing at the feel of him rubbing briskly at your pulsating clit.

“That’s it, honey. Taking that cock so fucking well”

“I need to c-cum, A-Andy” your voice trembles frantically in hopes of him taking pity upon you.

“Shhh, baby. Just let daddy fuck the frustration away, gotta fuck it all away” his words are pure filth but his tone is gentle and needy. He just wants to take his anger out on your body, channel it into something.

You can imagine that with the field of work he’s in that he finds it hard to keep his cool with Neil every day. Which is a shame because they used to be close.

Granted that was back when Neil first started and Andy mentored him, whipped him into shape and taught him everything he knows. And Neil is a better lawyer because of it. However, it also means that he’s just rude, obnoxious and cocky towards Andy, pushing him to the edge and taunting him a little more every day.

“Hold yourself back for daddy, you’ll cum when i give you permission to. Is that clear, honey?”

“Yes” you mumble, barely audible.

“What was that?”

“I mean, yes daddy” you correct, watching his eyes intently, searching for any sign of him letting up his tight hold and hard thrusts.

“Good girl, being so perfect for daddy and taking this fucking like a pro, huh?”

“Yes daddy”

Your eyes glaze over as you struggle to keep yourself in tact, the hold you have on your orgasm is slipping from your control slowly but surely and you know that if he doesn’t give you the go ahead soon then you’ll end up breaking the rules.

Something that will surely earn you a painful punishment.

“God, fuck. I’m gonna cum, you gonna cum with me, honey?” he asks, gasping. You throw your head back onto his chest, arching your back into him further. You nod your head as quickly as you can as you feel your knees turning weak.

“Count down with me”

“10’ you say in unison, his fingers rubbing furiously at your sex.

“9” the sound of your skin slapping together bounces off of the walls.

“8” the feel of his mouth latching onto the sweet spot on your neck, pearly white teeth sinking in to mark you up.

“7” the moans he’s eliciting are now flowing out of your mouth uncontrollably.

“6” deep grunts escape him as he pushes you against the mirror, causing your cheek to push up against it.

“5” the feel of him fucking into you tightens the coil for the final time, the feeling agonising.

“4” you scrunch your eyes closed, seeing stars as you arrive at the cliff edge.

“3” you say in unison as his thrusts turn from fast and rough to slow and hard.

“2” his cock twitches inside of you, your walls flutter around him over and over.

“1”

“That’s it, baby, cream all over that cock for me”

You let go, body shuttering as you stand up onto your tip toes. His grip on your arms lets up, causing you to fall forward, hands resting on the wall either side of the mirror.

“Oh god” he growls, hands splaying across the soft globes of your ass before he fills you with hot ropes of cum, breeding you unofficially.

He remains seated deep inside of you for a minute or two whilst the two of you struggle to regain control of your breathing, both of your hearts beating so fast that it feels as though they are on the cusp of exploding out of your chest.

“How are you feeling now?” you ask as he pulls out, turning to face him.

“Hungry for Chinese takeout and a night filled with fucking that tight cunt”

“Was that not enough?”

“I’ll never get my fill of you” he says, pulling your naked body flush against his “i want you all of the time and besides, that was just to channel my anger into something. The next time will be to make a baby”

“W-what?” your voice shaky as you raise your eyebrows at him.

“You heard me, i’m gonna spend all night breeding you, honey. Gonna make you all nice and round with my child. Gives me a chance to take my mind of that cunt Neil”

You nod your head, humming your agreement before pressing your lips to his.

Sure, you’ve had chats about kids before but this is the first time he’s openly suggested trying and even after his outburst, your love for him remains.

You can’t wait to spend the night tangled up in the crisp white sheets of your bed, filled with his cum.

---------------------

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[jaeyunverse]

dialogue prompt event (closed)

hello!! here’s a dialogue prompt even to celebrate 1k on this blog ♡ it’s so wild to me that we’ve already hit that milestone like ?? WHAT thank you so much to everyone who followed, reblogged, commented, liked or even simply read my fics :”) please check out the event guidelines below!

𝗚𝗨𝗜𝗗𝗘𝗟𝗜𝗡𝗘𝗦

as previously stated, this is a dialogue prompt event! underneath the guidelines are prompts. you’re free to choose whichever one you want and send an ask for me to write a short drabble based on it!

i will be accepting requests for enhypen and nct dream for this event!

please note that i’m a minor and won’t be writing anything nsfw. you will be blocked if you send me anything inappropriate.

while i won’t be writing smut, i am open to writing suggestive content. kindly note that i won’t be writing anything suggestive for sunoo, jungwon, riki and jisung.

no more than two asks per person! i don’t want to be doing this event for a very long time LOL i’m aiming to get all drabbles out within a few weeks of the deadline.

speaking of, the last date to send asks is 12 may, 2022. requests sent after that will be deleted!

while sending an ask, please make sure to mention the prompt number and the member you want me to write for. make sure to specify whether you want the mc to be afab or gender neutral as well!

you can include additional info as well like genres, tropes, aus and pairings. however please note that this is completely optional!

for example: 7 + heeseung + fem!reader + fluff

a masterlist compiling all drabbles will be released for easy access and hassle free reading once i finish the event :”)

𝗣𝗥𝗢𝗠𝗣𝗧𝗦

01) “oh, so you think i’m cute when i’m angry? get ready, because i’m about to be fucking gorgeous.”

02) “you’re still alive.” “don’t sound so disappointed, i might think you hate me.”

03) “i have to take credit for this.” “i think the word you’re looking for is blame.”

04) “a date? sorry but i have to go home and laugh at that idea.”

05) “did you have to hit me with that corpse’s leg? was that really necessary?” “necessary, no. hilarious, yes.”

06) “of course, i still love you. but trusting you is a different question.”

07) “i will boil your teeth.”

08) “that’s the fourth time this week you’ve brought up cannibalising me. should i be worried?”

09) “i don’t understand why you’re acting this way.”

10) “i didn’t know where else to go.”

11) “just because i’m the bad guy doesn’t mean i’m a bad guy.”

12) “i’m going to need chicken blood, salt, five candles and a bottle of alcohol.” “alcohol? for the spell?” “no, that’s just to make me feel better about ripping open a hole in the universe.”

13) “i love every part of you. even the parts you don’t like.”

14) “call me. text me. reach out for me, for god’s sake.”

15) “damn right i’m pretty.” “i said petty.”

16) “i can take him. i took a self defense class when i was 15.”

17) “i think i might be in love with you.”

18) “i have moves you’ve never heard of.” “yeah, that’s because you’re practically a senior citizen.”

19) “shut up.” “make me.”

20) “is that the best you can do?”

21) “can i kiss you?”

22) “stop reading my obituary with a smile on your face, would you?”

23) “who’s gonna let you?” “who’s gonna stop me?”

24) “i want to spend the rest of my life with you.”

25) “i hate you for making me fall deeper in love with you.”

note: most of these prompts are courtesy of the fake red head’s writing prompts on pinterest and i do not take credit for them!

[mypoisonedvine]

𝘁𝗮𝗹𝗸 𝘀𝗵𝗼𝘄 𝗵𝗼𝘀𝘁 || dirk brûlée x reader

𝘀𝘂𝗺𝗺𝗮𝗿𝘆: in front of the cameras, he’s the charismatic host of variety talk show Everything At Once.  but when the cameras aren’t rolling and the stage lights go dark, he’s the biggest diva on daytime TV and you’re the poor unfortunate soul who has to direct him.  but maybe there’s more to Dirk, hiding behind the glitz and glam and questionable facial hair.

𝘄𝗼𝗿𝗱 𝗰𝗼𝘂𝗻𝘁: a bit under 9k

𝘄𝗮𝗿𝗻𝗶𝗻𝗴𝘀: smut (semi-public bathroom sex, oral f receiving, kinda overstimulation?, touch of praise kink), enemies to (almost) friends to lovers, references to alcoholism and addiction, hurt/comfort kinda?, a decent dose of angst, negative self-talk/anxiety, brief reference to potential self-injury, unnecessary hatred of the cw (just kidding it’s very necessary), sports references almost no one will get, fluffy ending because I couldn’t help myself

a/n: before you say to yourself “who the fuck is this character, I haven’t seen this movie” it’s actually not from a movie, it’s from this very chaotic music video by the band travis!  I just kinda ran with it and made my own characterisation and random ideas about this person and his show and made a fic that literally nobody wanted or asked for, so... enjoy!

                      You had to give him credit: when he came out at the beginning of his show, even you almost believed in the persona he put on.  

Energetic, bubbly, friendly— when the announcer/emcee introduced him, he ran out through the crowd of children and brought more zeal to the stage than all of them combined.  Him and those outrageously tight pants.

But you remembered what he was like only a few minutes ago, just backstage right before another taping began.

“Seriously, I asked for this at least an hour ago!” Dirk snapped at the PA who handed him the whiskey glass of club soda, a straw cut to be exactly five inches poking out of it and rolling around the rim as the host moved his arms while he spoke dramatically.  When he finally took a sip after the cowering assistant had run off with his tail between his legs, Dirk grimaced under that god-awful moustache of his.  "And it's flat!  There’s hardly any bubbles!  It's not even club soda anymore, it's just… club!"

By now, after seven months on Dirk's show, you were used to his antics, though; which is why you approached him casually while others were turning and running to get the hell out of his way.

"It's gonna be camera 4 on you when you come out so give it a little point,” you reminded him, watching him nod as he sipped his ‘club’, “and then we switch to camera 1 for the intro, 2 and 3 for the interviews.  First guest is that Lithuanian hip-hop group I told you about—”

“Mhm,” he hummed.

“Second guest is a drag queen named Lady Problems,” you continued, ignoring a stylist who quickly dashed up to Dirk and applied powder to his face for a moment before leaving as suddenly as she came.  “And, your third guest is a man dressed as a giant soft serve ice cream cone, with a toy gun that, when fired, reveals a little flag that says ‘BANG!’,” you repeated, doing your best not to sound exasperated.

Dirk stopped drinking to give you a thoughtful look.  “Could we get the gun to shoot confetti as well?”

You couldn’t help but sigh.  “Um, I’ll talk to props.”

You heard the music outside get louder, the hype guy audible from onstage as he got the kids excited and energized for the taping.  “The show’s just about to start, are you ready?” you heard his voice boom, followed by a wave of cheers.

“You’re good to go?” you asked Dirk, who gave you a little nod as if to say ‘of course I am.’

He handed you his empty glass and straw, even though it was definitely not your responsibility to take care of that, as he closed his eyes and hung his head down, taking a deep breath.

You were one of only a few people who ever saw him in this state; in his little ritual.  After the deep breath he took another one through his teeth, and then a few quick ones, in and out rapidly.  He shook out his arms and jumped on the balls of his feet slightly, shaking his head around as if his hair hadn’t just been meticulously styled.

“Top of the ninth, bases loaded,” he mumbled to himself, “they’re all waiting.  They love you, and you’re gonna show them why…”

You quietly slipped back into the dark to toss his glass away and take your place at the control panel, turning on your headset and hearing the rest of his psych-up speech through your feed to his mic.

“You’re a winner.  Huh?  You’re a winner.”

Whatever his little mantra was all about, you couldn’t deny that it worked— because when you watched the lights come up on the monitor, when you watched him run through the sparkly plastic streamers and into the aisle of the child-filled audience, he was like an entirely different person.  Dancing, high-fiving, smiling and laughing and encouraging the applause that nearly overwhelmed the studio mics.

It was only your first year as the director of Everything At Once.  The director of seasons one through four had recently departed due to “creative differences” (read: got tired of Dirk’s shit) and you were brought on as a last-minute sub-in for season five.  It was a rocky start; you hadn’t been given much time to prepare since tapings were set to begin only a few weeks after the previous director walked off, so you’d had to binge all four seasons over a few nights and tried to figure out how to stay true to form while also, hopefully, making a show you didn’t hate.

You’d never seen the show before then because you weren’t a child, or a stay-at-home parent taking care of one… and it seemed like those demographics made up the show’s entire audience.�� You didn’t really ‘get’ it when you first watched it; maybe you still didn’t, even after your first year running the place.

Most daytime talk shows didn’t even have directors.  But Everything At Once was a very unique combination of reality and scripted, something between variety and interview and full-blown acid trip.  Some of the interviews were entirely staged, and not in a ‘hey, it’s Hollywood, everything’s staged’ sort of way but specifically for intentional comedic effect… like the time one of the show’s writers did an interview in character as the man depicted in The Scream by Edvard Munch, who had recently come to life from his painting and was promoting his book on anxiety.  Dirk seemed to have a real taste for satire, which you thought might be lost on the primarily-elementary-aged audience.

Dirk also seemed to have a real taste for throwing fits just to get attention; it was always something with him, like his club soda.  Or his outfits.  Or a perceived slight by some random staff member who suddenly needed to be fired at once.  In your admittedly-limited experience in television, he was the biggest diva you ever worked with.

The crew didn’t secretly call him Dirk the Jerk for nothing.  Or Dirk the Douchebag.  Or Dirk the Insufferable Self-Possessed Tyrant Who Could Go Jump Up His Own Ass and Die For All I Care, which didn’t quite roll off the tongue but was still just as popular.

For example, the way he acted when the taping stopped for a break and you had him look over the playback for the first segment with you.

“So, do you think we should edit out the question about—?” you started to ask, but he cut you off as he leaned in close to the screen.

“Oh god, my hair looks awful!” he yelped.  “Why is it... green?  Doesn’t it look a bit green to you?  It’s not going to look like that on air, right?  Is that how it really looks?”

“Dirk, slow down,” you frowned.  “We’re going to color-correct everything, I’m just asking about the actual content of the interview.”

He looked at you like you were talking in an alien language.  Even worse, you were talking in ‘things Dirk doesn’t care about’ which meant it went in one ear and out the other, if that.

“But yes, it does look awful in real life,” you answered coldly.

He scowled at you but began looking around for a mirror— and when he couldn’t find one, he grabbed a shiny platter from the craft services table and dumped all the food off of it to hold it up and examine his hair in the warped reflection.  “Oh god,” he groaned as he turned his head back and forth, lifting strands of caramel-blonde hair to look at closer, ignoring the protests of irritated caterers nearby as you shrugged at them, “I need to see my hair colourist before tomorrow’s taping.”

“No, you can’t, you promised you would help me fill out the For Your Consideration paperwork,” you reminded him.

“The what?” he mumbled, clearly not paying attention.

“The Daytime Emmys!  We have to submit the show for consideration!”

He rolled his eyes.  “Can’t you do that yourself?”

“You’re an Executive Producer,” you reminded him with crossed arms; it was pretty much an open secret that he only carried that title because of his financing of the show, rather than any creative input or responsibilities.  He seemed to only want to produce the show during those times that he randomly decided to make some insane demand and shout ‘you have to do it, I’m an executive producer!’

But before that could be resolved, he had to go back out to keep taping and continue onto the next interview.  Since the first segment had gone smoothly with no major spanners in the works, you let yourself actually watch the show a bit now instead of just waiting to bark orders in case of a disaster.  You hadn’t been focusing on the first part of the conversation, so you didn’t know how they’d gotten on the topic, but apparently it was something about bad habits and guilty pleasures.

“I think I have somewhat of an addictive personality,” Lady Problems explained to Dirk as you watched on the camera 2 monitor.  You moved your gaze to the camera 3 monitor to see his reaction.

“And what does that mean for you?” Dirk asked, narrowing his eyes and resting his chin on his fist.  

"I… well, I’ll admit it: I like to eat paper,” she answered, and the audience laughed, but Dirk just seemed intrigued. 

"Ooh… what kind of paper?"

"I think my favorite is college-ruled.  I like the taste of the little blue lines.  I can put down a spiral-bound notebook in an afternoon if nobody's watching," she giggled, and the child audience seemed to get a real kick out of that even though all the adult crew seemed beyond confused.

“Everyone has their vice, right?” the sound mixer shrugged as he glanced to his partner at the lighting controls.

“What do you think Dirk’s is?” the lighting guy returned playfully.  “Other than his goddamn club sodas.  It’s probably hooking up with all those single moms who tag him in thirsty tweets, right?”

“Whatever it is now, I know what it used to be,” the first mumbled, wiping under his nose suggestively.  You frowned to see them discussing something so private about Dirk like it was a joke.  They were far from the first to spread rumors about his history with drugs— the public certainly like to speculate about it, considering his show was so surreal and sometimes felt it could only come from the mind of someone under the influence— but Dirk’s sobriety was not something you wanted people to feel comfortable joking about.  You didn’t have time to admonish them now, though. 

When the taping wrapped, you found Dirk backstage tapping his foot impatiently.

“Your club soda, sir,” a meek assistant offered him a glass— and immediately you sighed because you saw there wasn’t a straw in it.

“Where’s the straw?” Dirk protested immediately, making the assistant stammer nervously.

“Wh-what?”

“I need a straw to drink this!” he explained, shoving the drink back into the assistant’s chest.  “Well?  What are you waiting for?  Go back and get me a new one with a straw!”

As they dashed away, he saw you and seemed almost irritated to see you already.  

"What's up with the PAs lately, are they all brand new or something?" Dirk frowned.

No, they're just logical people who think you're a grown man fully capable of drinking directly out of glasses.  "No," you spoke plainly.

"Whatever, at least the taping went decently well…" he shrugged.

"Yeah, I thought it was pretty good stuff; you and Lady Problems had good chemistry," you remembered, and Dirk chuckled a little.

"Yeah, she seemed to agree, considering she flagged me down in the hallway and offered to take me out for drinks,” Dirk explained.  “Decided just to tell her I’m straight and not that I’m an alcoholic.”

Well, you couldn’t blame a girl for trying.  Or a guy dressed as a girl.  Dirk was certainly… flamboyant; and there were plenty of rumors about that, too.  Sometimes your friends would ask what Dirk Brûlée was ‘actually like’, which you never answered honestly.  And they’d ask about his sexuality, and you’d be honest about that by saying you really had no idea.  You’d never seen him with a girlfriend or a boyfriend or anything in between.  At best, he was too focused on the show to worry about romance; at worst, he was too focused on himself.  And since it was his show, and he was the host, those two things sort of blended together.

But then again, it was always the best and the worst with Dirk.

“We need to get better guests,” he grumbled, “they can’t all be experimental— when are we gonna get somebody that will actually attract new viewers?”

“When we get enough new viewers to get new sponsors to get a new budget to get new guests,” you answered sardonically.

“Fair enough, but I’m going to call in some favors and see if I can get Christina Aguilera,” he decided.

“Wh— can you get her?!” you choked.

“Maybe, if I threaten to start telling everyone that she’s actually a massive bit—”

“Dirk Brûlée!” a kid from the audience of today’s taping called out from across the hall, barreling towards him so fast that his light-up sneakers looked like one erratic blur.

“Hi!” Dirk turned and greeted, instantly switching back into his TV persona, kneeling down and chuckling in surprise when the kid gave him a sudden hug.  “I like your sneakers, do those come in adult sizes?” he asked the kid, who just laughed in response even though you were sure the question was completely serious.

“I watch your show every day, I run home from school to get to the TV in time,” the child explained as Dirk listened thoughtfully.  “I only don’t watch it on the days that my brother gets there first and watches his show instead,” he continued with a frown.

“Yes, brothers can be annoying like that sometimes,” Dirk agreed.  “But thank you for watching when you can, I’m glad you could be here today.”

“Me too, I thought maybe you could sign my lunchbox,” the kid requested, suddenly getting a bit shy as they presented an aluminum box by the handle, the side decorated with the show’s boisterous logo and an image of Dirk dancing in perhaps his signature look, the red leather jacket.  ‘Red’ alone didn’t quite do the color justice: you liked to call it ‘radioactive cherry.’

“Yeah, of course,” Dirk agreed as he took the box with one hand and pulled a gold metallic Sharpie from his back pocket with the other.  Dirk was strongly morally opposed to black Sharpies for autographs.

“I wanna be on TV when I grow up,” the kid added while Dirk uncapped his marker.

“Yeah?  What’s your name?” Dirk asked.

“Archer.”

“Archer, that’s a good TV name,” Dirk nodded, “but an even better name for an archer, don’t you think?”

The kid laughed and watched Dirk write a little message on the lunchbox, thanking him sheepishly when Dirk handed it back and ruffled the child’s hair quickly before waving goodbye.  You only caught a glimpse of what Dirk had written, but it made you snort out a small laugh.

Archer—

Don’t go into TV.  

Dirk

His signature was pretty different from the scribbles of most celebrities: instead he wrote his name in massive bubble letters, and you were impressed with how good he was at cranking out these detailed signatures in just a few seconds.

The PA took the kid’s hand and escorted them away back to the stage exit as Dirk stood up and checked to make sure he hadn’t creased his trainers from kneeling like that.

“That’s sweet of you, to keep faking it for the kids,” you noted sarcastically.  “Wouldn’t want them to see the real Dirk, huh?”

He scoffed, and for one moment you thought you caught a fleeting glimpse of a real vulnerability.  It made you regret the dig for a second.  But then he was back to his critical self: “You’d know all about faking it, wouldn’t you?  How’s your boyfriend by the way?”

You just rolled your eyes, but the truth was he’d dumped you a couple weeks ago for the star of the show he was directing; of course, that was a primetime drama, so he thought he was ‘above’ you and your daytime reality now.  But does it even count as primetime if it’s The CW?  

As Dirk was escorted away to the wardrobe area to get changed out of his fantastical get-up, and you returned to your office for a quick moment of quiet before you were due in the editing bay to get some basic notes on today’s taping.

When you stopped by Dirk’s trailer later that evening, you noticed he had redecorated since the last time you had been in here: the massive, bedazzled flamingo painting was gone and replaced by a portrait of a beautiful, crying woman with clown paint on her face.  His big leather chair was on the other side of the room and there was a new ornate rug on the floor.

Everything had been rearranged specifically to accommodate an area in one corner where he was currently stretching on a yoga mat, still wearing some sort of moisturizing face mask that left everything but his eyes and lips covered with matcha-green fabric.

“Take that off, Dirk, you look insane,” you frowned as you shut the door behind yourself.

“Alright, I’ll take it off, but it’s not going to help,” he winked as he finished his downward dog and got up off the mat, walking to his vanity where he peeled off the mask and rubbed the remaining serum into his skin.  “What did you need?”

“For Your Consideration,” you reminded him.

“What?” he mumbled, staring in the mirror still and barely seeming to notice you standing off to his side.

“The Emmys, Dirk, Jesus!” 

“Is that an explanation and exclamation, or are you just listing your deities?” he smirked.

“I just need you to help me write a summary of the show’s thesis, essentially— like a mission statement, what we’re all about,” you continued.  “I mean, I know I have my own ideas, but I’d feel weird submitting it before you gave it a quick review just to tell me if it’s what you’re going for.  So, will you please think about how to explain this show in 200 words or less?”

He narrowed his eyes as if he were thinking, staring forward into the mirror, and you waited for his response semi-patiently.  You couldn’t blame him for taking a while to ponder it, Everything At Once was not a concept that lent itself to concise summary.

“Do you think I should pierce my ears?” he finally spoke, turning his head back and forth to look at each ear as you groaned and rubbed your temples.  “I think it would make me seem a bit more alternative— but that might mess with my family-friendly image, or whatever I have left of it after Twitter found out I’d checked into rehab.”

“God, Dirk, you’re so obsessed with this fake persona,” you groaned as you lifted your head from your hands.  “Can’t you just get out of your own head and help me with this stupid paperwork?  There’s stuff I need to fill out that I don’t know cause it’s my first year—”

“It’s not fake, okay?” he snapped, finally looking at you instead of the mirror.  “It’s not fake, for the kids at least.  I like the kids.  It’s the adults I can’t stand.”

And so you understood that both versions of Dirk were the ‘real Dirk’, but in very different ways.  It made you look at him differently when he arrived on-set the next morning ready for another taping.  He was wearing a purple paisley button-up and matching purple trainers, with white jeans and a glittery gold belt.  When he ran his hands over his face and smacked his cheeks a bit— a way to calm his nerves, maybe— you noticed that his nails were painted gold as well.  It made you smile a bit to yourself.  Is that all he really wanted?  To make people smile?

You watched him wait for his name to be announced again, you saw him breathe— deep, then through his teeth, then fast.

“Top of the ninth, bases loaded…”

//

Maybe to some, a Daytime Emmy nomination isn’t a very big deal at all.  And it wasn’t like you thought this was more important than anything else, in fact you were more than ready to lose to a more traditional program, but it was an acknowledgement of all your hard work as well as so much more than you expected from your first year in a new show.  

You remembered the speech you gave to the crew your first day, about how this was going to be a transition and that even at their best, transitions are difficult.  “This is the ‘99 Bulls, we’re in a rebuild right now,” you explained allegorically.

“That’s bullshit!” someone had called out from the back, making you terrified at first.  “We were never the ‘98 Bulls!”

Some laughs and murmurs moved through the crew and you just did your best to take it in stride.

But look at you now… maybe this was your ‘92 Bulls moment, maybe you were about to win this and start getting recognition every year.  Or maybe you were just a silly TV show that got an unexpected nomination and this would end up only being an excuse to dress up and go to a fancy dinner and maybe bump into a few people much more important than yourself.

Regardless, you still screamed when you opened the letter from the National Academy of Television Arts and Sciences and saw that Everything At Once had been nominated for ‘Outstanding Talk Show— Entertainment.’  

Dirk was not nominated for 'Outstanding Talk Show Host’, specifically, and you honestly thought it was a pretty major snub.  He made the show, even if he also made you a little insane in the process.  Thankfully he didn’t throw a tantrum about it, he actually just focused on being proud of the crew and even paid you back for the massive cake you ordered for everybody to celebrate.

But he also left the party early.  Can’t win ‘em all; it’s still Dirk, and god knows he had a thousand hair and facial appointments between now and the awards telecast.

You, admittedly, did have a few of your own as well.  You weren’t the face of the show so it didn’t matter nearly as much, but a stylist friend of yours offered to get you something amazing to wear and you couldn’t say no to that.  

Dressed to the nines, decked out in jewelry you had to remember to return at the end of the night, and wearing false lashes for the first time in years, you stepped out of your car and into the check-in, hoping to suppress your nerves as you merged into the crowded lobby and caught a glimpse of the red carpet just outside.  It was populated mostly with soap opera stars and talk show hosts, so you didn’t really recognize most of them… until you saw Dirk there, apparently just having finished a quick walk as he stepped away from the cameras and caught sight of you inside the main area.

Of course he couldn’t just wear a black tux like everybody else, which is why his jacket was coated in some sort of extra-sparkly black glitter, and his bowtie had little bits of mirror on it like a disco ball.  Incredibly audacious for most, but still a bit muted for him since it wasn’t bursting with neon colors.

But then you caught a glimpse of his shoes— velvet slippers embroidered over every inch with technicolor, psychedelic patterns— and you smiled a bit to yourself.

You felt oddly nervous when you caught him appraising you with a lingering stare; it almost looked like he was checking you out, but you couldn’t even be mad about it since you’d spent so much money and time to look this good.

“Weird to see me without a headset on?” you prompted when he stepped up to you but just kept staring at you in silence.

“Yeah, you look… nice,” Dirk decided.

“Oh, thanks,” you nodded.

“Well, you look beautiful, actually,” he changed his mind, and you chewed on the inside of your cheek for a second. 

“O-oh… thanks,” you repeated awkwardly.  “You look good, too.  I kinda miss the tight jeans, though.”

He chuckled.  “I don’t.”

Fair enough.

“Hey, I thought you would bring your boyfriend,” Dirk noticed.

“We, um, broke up, actually…”

“Oh, sorry,” he winced.  “When?”

“Before we got nominated.”

Dirk seemed embarrassed when he noticed how long ago that must’ve been.  “Shit.  I don’t ask you about yourself very often, do I?”

“No, you usually just ask me questions about yourself,” you chuckled.

“Right, yeah, that sounds like me,” he agreed.  “I never did like that boyfriend, by the way.”

Not that Dirk was exactly known for liking many people or anything.

“Seemed like a douche,” he continued with a shrug.  “Takes one to know one.”

“Yeah, definitely,” you hummed.  “His show wasn’t nominated for a primetime award, though.  Because it’s The C-fucking-W.”

Dirk snorted out a little laugh, running one of his hands through his hair which made you notice the gold rings he had on a few fingers.  “He didn’t get nominated because he’s not as good at his job as you are,” Dirk corrected.

You wanted to protest but decided to just accept the compliment with a little nod, just in time for the rest of the major executive crew to show up and greet you both as you all made your way to your table in the auditorium.

To be honest, the telecast for the Daytime Emmys wasn’t even that exciting; so you can imagine how boring it was to actually be there in person for every commercial break and awkward silence and out-of-context clip from a soap.  Occasionally a presenter or a nominee would be someone you recognised and it was sort of eerie to see a celebrity you were aware of live, in the flesh.  But then Aisha Tyler came out to present the category you’d been nominated for, and you were too nervous to even worry about being starstruck.

You were also too nervous to pick up on any of her opening remarks about the category and nominees until you realized she was about to announce a winner.  

It won’t be us, obviously, you thought to yourself, smiling nervously when a fellow production team member squeezed you on the arm excitedly.  You glanced across the table and caught Dirk compulsively chugging his entire club soda (through a straw, of course).

“And the Daytime Emmy Award for Outstanding Talk Show— Entertainment goes to…” Aisha smiled as she opened the envelope, though she smiled wider when she saw the name inside: “Everything At Once!”

The whole table jumped up, hugging each other; except you and Dirk, who gave each other an awkward glance and seemed to each independently decide that it was best not to hug each other.  

You motioned for him to lead the way to the stage, and he nodded as he passed you and did just that, yourself and the rest of the crew running up behind him as he took the statuette from Aisha and gave her a cordial kiss on the cheek.

He took his place at the microphone as you and everyone else waited behind her, still hugging and mumbling your congratulations and disbelief to each other.  

“I just want to thank the, uh, the Emmy voters,” Dirk began, and it didn’t feel nearly as rehearsed as you expected, “and our amazing crew, and our amazing viewers, and of course our fearless director—” he motioned to you, standing beside and behind him, which surprised you.  “We just want to make a show that everyone can enjoy, that’s fun and light and maybe makes people feel a bit better or less alone, and I hope this award—” he lifted the Emmy briefly— “means that we’ve done that, thank you.”

The audience clapped as Dirk left the microphone and the crew followed him offstage in a celebratory parade.

The rest of the night was a blur, in fact basically the whole night was a blur, and soon enough you found yourself in a hotel suite with a glass of champagne in your hand, almost everyone from the show crammed together, clinking glasses, hugging each other.

A few headlines had already come out, shown on phone screens that were passed around the afterparty.

Surrealist Children’s Program ‘Everything At Once’ Takes Home Daytime Emmy Just One Season After Replacing Director

Dirk Brûlée Accepts ‘Best Talk Show, Entertainment’ Award

In Massive Victory for Dadaism, ‘Everything At Once’ Just Won An Emmy

And, in a slightly less journalistic take from Buzzfeed,

Emmy Winner Dirk Brûlée is Criminally Slept On, Here Are 27 Pictures to Make You Stan Him

You did feel a little rush of adrenaline each time you saw yourself in pictures of Dirk giving his speech: there was even one of the moment that he motioned to you and gave you props, and you stared at your own image wondering if you’d ever smiled that hard before.

You watched everyone else down their champagne and cocktails, laughing with each other with lots of hugs and pats on shoulders and backs, before your eyes settled on Dirk: alone in the corner, nursing his club soda through his exactly-five-inch straw.

This must be weird for him, you thought to yourself, setting your own glass down to go talk to him— but a hand on your shoulder stopped you.

“Congrats!” Joan, one of the camera operators, beamed as she got your attention.

“Oh, thanks,” you nodded, “you too.”

“No, don’t congratulate me, this is your award!” she assured.  “You direct all the episodes!”

“Yeah, but Dirk’s the host, and the EP,” you recalled.

“But everybody knows you earned this,” Joan explained, leaning in to speak a bit more inconspicuously.  “Honestly, it was a crime that he gave the acceptance speech and didn’t even give you time at the mic.  He doesn’t even do any work.”

Your mouth opened to defend him: you wanted to tell her that he did do a lot of work for the show, he was the entire creative mind behind it originally, and that he might not be the most active Executive Producer but even so he kept the show alive in more ways than one.  You wanted to tell her that you wouldn’t have known what to say if he gave you time to speak, and that you thought the speech he gave was actually pretty much perfect.  

But before you could do any of that, you caught a black, glittery blur dash through the room and out the door in the corner of your eye.  You whipped your head around and started to push Joan away.  “Sorry, we’ll talk later, okay?” you mumbled to her as you walked to the door, opening it and peering out into the hall; you just saw the back of him as he turned the corner, running his fingers through his hair as he kept walking speedily.  “Dirk!” you called out, but he either didn’t hear you or didn’t care.

It was a struggle to keep up with him in your heels, which is why you actually didn’t, but you did manage to trail him at a decent distance as he rushed through the plushy carpeted hallways of the hotel, down some marble stairs, and into a men’s bathroom.  

You considered stopping your chase— maybe he just needs to use the bathroom, right?— but decided to trust your gut that something was wrong.  So, you carefully tip-toed up to the door and leaned your ear against it.

“You’re just a fucking imposter,” you heard his voice through the door, though it was muffled and echoing slightly over the tile in the bathroom.  “You’re a fucking loser.  Everyone hates you, can’t you see that?  But nobody could hate you as much as yourself.”

Eyes wide and wet, you burst through the bathroom door and saw Dirk spin to face you from where he was bent slightly in front of the mirror, his hands gripping the marble counter so hard that his knuckles had gone white.  He spoke your name in surprise as he saw you, standing up straighter to run his fingers through his hair exasperatedly.

“Dirk, hey,” you greeted nervously; Fuck, I didn’t actually figure out what to say when I got in here…

“You can go, I’ll be fine,” he dismissed flatly, “I’m not gonna go on a bender or— or hurt myself or anything.  You’re not gonna lose your host.”

“Nobody hates you, Dirk,” you tried to soothe him, stepping just a bit closer, and he winced at the proof that you’d heard his meltdown.

���Don’t bullshit a bullshitter,” he scoffed.

“You’re not a bullshitter, you’re real, Dirk.  You’re exactly who you are.  And yeah… some people think you’re an asshole, and sometimes you are an asshole, but they don’t get you.  They don’t get your show.  But I get it.”

He seemed to perk up a little at that, looking at you with bloodshot brown eyes.  

“I think people see your show and assume it’s not meant to be taken seriously.  But it is, isn’t it?  You play this character, but you talk about things that really matter in ways that people can understand.  You teach them things, sometimes without them ever realising it.  It’s about fear, isn’t it?  That’s where the name comes from, Everything At Once.  Because you’re afraid of everything?”

He just stared back at you, mouth agape and eyes blinking rapidly.  Had nobody really ever put that together?  You thought it was sort of obvious.

When those eyes glanced down to your lips and back again, and again, and one more time, the concept of him kissing you was so foreign, so far from your mind, that you didn’t even think to consider that that’s what he might do.  But it’s what he did, grabbing your face and kissing you suddenly— not quite rough, but definitely intense.

Your eyes shot wide open, staring forward at his face closer than you’d ever seen it, eyes shut tight and brow furrowed like he was focusing intently on something, on you.  You could feel his moustache as his lips started to move against you, and for some reason that was what made you push him back gently with a little gasp.  “Dirk, I don’t think that’s a good idea,” you offered awkwardly.

“You just won an Emmy,” he reminded you, “live on national television.  Your family’s seen it.  Your old coworkers have seen it.  Everyone who knew you in high school either saw it today or they’ll see it on Facebook tomorrow, and they’re gonna know that you’re successful now, and hot, and living your dream.  They’re all gonna wish they were you.”

His words stirred something selfish and hungry and needy inside your chest, and you felt like you were running on pure instinct as you reached up and grabbed his glittery lapel; “Fuck it,” you snarled as you pulled him into another kiss, this one much less one-sided than the last as he grabbed your waist and hoisted you up onto the marble counter.

You were about to hook up with Dirk fucking Brûlée— your coworker, the host of the show you directed, the thorn in your side and the closest thing you’d ever had to a mortal enemy— in the men’s bathroom of the Pasadena Omni.  And neither of you could blame it on alcohol, either.

You pushed his jacket off his shoulders and pulled open his bowtie while he felt you up through your dress, eventually reaching down to start pulling the long skirt up your legs.

If you were taking the time to judge yourself for any of this, you would’ve been embarrassed by the way you moaned into the kiss at the feeling of his hands on your thighs, moving higher until they gripped your hips under the heavy dress and started to tug your panties down.  It sort of felt like a wake-up call that this was really happening, except that it just made you want this even more.

The kiss was more just the two of you breathing with each other now, your eyes opening to watch him look down while he slowly slid the black lace down your legs.  

He purred a little as he maneuvered the panties around your heeled feet and tossed them aside, instantly kneeling down on the tile floor to kiss your legs eagerly.  “You’re so fucking sexy,” he mumbled, and you laughed— actually laughed— because that was your first instinct.  “Did nobody think to tell you before?” he noticed with a grin.

“I… yeah, I guess it never came up,” you agreed sheepishly, biting your lip as he kissed his way up higher and higher.

He roughly pulled your hips closer to the edge of the counter and to his face, grinning for a second and looking up at you as he dived in.  His tongue pushed inside you right away, and felt your face heat up at the sensation of his moustache against your sensitive skin— one clear way to make sure you couldn't forget who this was between your legs.

“Oh god, fuck,” you moaned, reaching down to tangle your fingers into his hair.  It was soft, which you’d hope since he spent so much time and money on it, but even still it surprised you as you tightened your hand into a fist and tugged on him accidentally.  But it certainly didn’t slow him down, he just kept lapping and sucking like it was his life’s purpose.

Little groans from him were muffled inside you, his tongue sliding over places you hadn’t even realised were so sensitive; maybe they weren’t, before now.

And the gasp you let out when he sucked hard on your clit… it was a little embarrassing, though not nearly as much as you throwing your head back so hard that it slammed into the mirror behind you with a dull thud.

“Are you okay?” Dirk asked with a smile, pulling back to look up at you.

“Yeah, yeah, I’m fine, just— keep going, please,” you breathed, and he returned to the pattern he’d found that made your legs quiver around his head.

“You taste fucking delicious, by the way,” he informed you in a deeper voice when he stopped for a brief moment.

“Oh, thanks,” you mumbled nervously.

“You’re not good at taking compliments,” he noticed with a grin.

“Well, I’m not used to them,” you defended, “especially in… times like this.  And I’m sort of distracted, currently.”

“Get used to it,” he instructed.  “I like the taste of your cunt.”

“I like the way you taste my cunt,” you blurted out in reply, seeming to surprise and amuse him for a moment before he got back to just that, closing his eyes and wrinkling his brow as he ate you fiercely.  His fingers dug into your thighs and you secretly hoped from bruises in the shape of his hands, to remind you how lovely they are.

But then those fingers moved, at least the ones on his left hand, which rubbed your leg for a moment before reaching up to prod two fingers at your entrance and carefully slide them in alongside where he was suckling on your clit.

“God,” you choked, whimpering when he curled the fingers right against your spot, your hips starting to rock against his movements as he smiled slightly against you.

For as long as you could keep your eyes open, you looked down at him and watched the way his face reacted to every pulse of your walls, the way he seemed just as lost in pleasure as you were even though you had it on good authority you were getting more out of this than he was.  You couldn’t keep your eyes open much longer, though, as they fluttered shut and your head fell back when you felt a deep pressure forming inside you.

“Dirk, I— fuck, don’t stop, I’m gonna come,” you sighed.

But this was still Dirk, and he always had to do the opposite of whatever you said, which is why he stopped instantly and stood up, starting to open his belt and trousers.  “Not yet,” he corrected, “you’re not gonna come until I’m inside you.”

You weren’t sure how to respond to that— it caught you off-guard in the best way— so you just nodded in agreement, finding your legs spreading even wider without you intending for it to happen.

“I think it’s gonna be a while before I get the smell of you out of my moustache,” he admitted with a chuckle as he got his belt open and started to unbutton his fly.

“Good reason to shave the damn thing off,” you smirked.

“No, I don’t think I could part with it,” he answered.  “The scent or the ‘stache, I mean.”

He quickly pulled his cock out and stepped closer to you; kinda made sense that he was big, considering his attitude.  And the way he looked in those tight jeans.  But it still made you gasp slightly and bite your lip, which made him smile in turn.

When he kissed you again, the taste of yourself coating his tongue and now yours, you felt him press his cock against you and tease you for a moment, rubbing on your clit for a while instead of just pushing inside.  “Please,” you whined against his lip, “god, I just need you to fuck me.”

Not one to say no to that, he snapped his hips forward and groaned deeply as he filled you, letting his head fall onto your shoulder and breathing heavily against your neck while you arched your back.  

He started moving right away even though you were still processing how it felt to be full to the brim like this, not nearly as rushed and desperate as he could’ve been considering the circumstances.  No, it wasn’t quite slow, either, but it was deliberate, and measured, like he was trying to savor it.  

With what little control you felt you had over your body, you fumbled with the buttons of his shirt until you had enough of an opening to rub his chest under it.  He smelled really good this up-close, even if his cologne was a bit on the aggressive side, and his skin was so hot to the touch that you wondered how he wasn’t dripping with sweat.

You could see a few freckles on his neck and shoulder, along with the chest chair starting to peek out from behind the buttons.  Now was not the time for it, but you really wanted to see more of this man if you got the chance.

“Did you ever think about this, before?” he asked you under his breath, right against your ear.  “Did you ever think about how I’d fuck you?”

“Honestly?” you hummed.  “No… I didn’t.  But now all I’m ever gonna think about is the way you fuck me.”

He grinned and moved a bit faster, biting playfully at your neck.  “I thought about it,” he admitted.  “Just a few times.  I figured it would be nice to see you finally relax and… enjoy yourself.  Thought I wouldn’t mind being the one to make you do it.”

‘Enjoying yourself’ was a bit of an understatement considering you were so delirious already that you could barely keep track of this conversation.  He’d gotten you so fucking close before and his cock was thrusting right into every spot his fingers and tongue had just awakened.

“You’re close again already, aren’t you?” he noticed with a smirk, and you nodded breathlessly.  

“Your cock,” you groaned.  You’d meant to finish that with ‘feels so good’ or something like that, but it didn’t end up coming out since you lost your train of thought and just ended up moaning loudly instead.

“Yeah?” he prompted playfully.  “What about it?”

“S’big,” you slurred, and he laughed again before leaning in to kiss you, not quite as hurried as before though still quite hungry, especially when he put his hand on the back of your neck and held you close.  “Fuck,” you hissed into it, muffled by his lips, and he nodded encouragingly as it became obvious that you were falling past the point of no return, and rather suddenly at that.

He sped up in perfect time with the pressure building in your core, your legs shaking a little where they had wrapped around his waist.

"Ohh, fuck, I'm gonna come, I'm gonna— fuck," you shivered and gasped into his kiss, feeling him pull you in closer and hug you tighter as it started to wash over you.  "Oh god, Dirk, yes!"

Your eyes shut so tight that you saw blurry purple spots amongst the black, little shocks running up your back until you had to bite down on your lip or you thought you might say something you’d regret later.

He fucked you through it until the last wave subsided.  You relaxed and sighed and melted into his arms, at which point he made a noise almost like a laugh, but it wasn't mocking; more like awe, really.  "You sound so perfect when you come," he informed you through a beaming smile.  "Let's hear it again, shall we?"

It took everything in you to bite back a scream when he reached down and rubbed his thumb over your clit quickly.  You writhed and bit down on your lip until it was sore, overwhelmed by the feeling of him fucking into you while the slightly-rough pad of his thumb stroked in rapid circles.

You found your hands reaching all over the place, trying to find purchase with anything to grab onto— you settled with your left on the counter beneath you and the right digging into his shoulder through the shirt, your eyes meeting his as he gave you a prideful, heavy-lidded stare.

“You can give me one more, right?  You’re squeezing me so tight, I know you’re gonna come again, just relax and let it happen.”

But how could you relax when your entire body was alight with energy, until your toes and fingertips were tingling with an addictive numbness?  It was anything but relaxing when the second orgasm hit you like a goddamn freight train.  Your moans were loud enough to echo around the bathroom, silenced only by a bruising kiss from Dirk who swallowed every noise you made like nothing was more precious.  He mumbled little praises into it, things you were too far gone to really comprehend at the time.

Suddenly, he pulled out and pulled you off the counter, flipping you to bend over it instead and pulling your head back by your hair as he slipped back in quickly.  

“Look in the mirror,” he instructed lowly as he turned your head to your own reflection.  “Look how fucking gorgeous you look taking my dick.”

You weren’t sure about gorgeous, but definitely dishevelled.  But you could see what he might appreciate about it, since you caught yourself biting your lip at the way he looked with his hair falling into his face, with a thin layer of sweat on his forehead as well as the part of his chest exposed by the unbuttoned shirt and dangling bowtie.

“God, you feel so fucking good,” he breathed, so quiet you almost didn’t hear it.  But you did, and it made your knees a little weak… though you could just blame it on balancing on the heels.  He kissed your neck with an open mouth and desperation all but dripping off of him, grazing his teeth over your pulse occasionally.  

The brief break as he had switched your position hadn’t done that much to give your body time to recover from every stimulation he was assaulting you with; it meant you had to focus with all your might on not being too loud, because even then you could still hear your own moans ringing in your ears.

Something about this angle made him go even deeper inside you until you couldn’t believe the incoherent babbling that was coming out of your mouth.  

“It’s so good, fuck, baby, it’s so good,” you sobbed, feeling your knees almost buckle against before he thankfully held your hips up at the last moment.  Of everything you’d said, and done, and experienced tonight, something about calling Dirk ‘baby’ was the most jarring.  It was something you never, ever thought you’d do; and up until now, you had assumed that you thought all of this was something you’d never ever do, but apparently you had your suspicions from the beginning.

But he seemed to enjoy it, since he stood up straight to start fucking into you with a bit more force and a lot more deep moans coming out of his mouth.  "Where should I come?" he asked roughly.  A fairly simple question, but one that somehow turned you on even more.

"Inside me," you moaned, "fuck, I want you to come inside me."

"God, yes," he groaned through clenched teeth.  "Gonna make you so fuckin' full, gonna put my come so deep in you…"

Even now, his thrusts weren't as fast as you would've expected knowing he was close— faster than before but still shockingly patient, with moments in between where he just stayed buried inside you as deep as he could.  "I want it, oh god, I want your come— please," you whimpered.

He chuckled when you started to rock back against him, meeting his thrusts and panting loudly.  “Damn, you want it that bad?”

“Yes, fuck,” you hissed, too far gone to question your own desperation, “fucking come in me, please, please—”

“I will, fuck, I’m close, oh fuck—!” he hissed, holding your hips and speeding up until he choked on a groan and tossed his head back, a warmth starting to fill you as you sighed and relaxed against the counter beneath you.

He gave a few more weak thrusts as the last few pumps of his seed spilled inside you, your own walls flexing a few times even though you were clearly exhausted.  When he started to move to pull out, you lifted one of your legs between his to press your heel into his butt and keep him from stepping away.

“You want to keep me warm a bit longer?” he noticed with a breathy chuckle.

“Yeah,” you hummed, “if you don’t mind.”

“No, definitely not,” he smiled, “but, you know, it slightly increases our odds of getting caught in here…”

“Oh, right,” you remembered, a little dose of reality that made you blink the fog away.  “Yeah, that would be a less flattering headline to see tomorrow…”

You lowered your leg and he slowly pulled out: “Stay there,” he instructed softly as he found your discarded panties and helped you step back into them, dragging them back up your legs which made you shiver slightly until you stood up and put them back on the rest of the way yourself.  He, meanwhile, shoved his cock back into his trousers and zipped them back off before grabbing his jacket from the floor as well and dusting it off quickly before slipping it back on.

“How do I look?” you asked as you let your skirt roll back down to the floor and checked your makeup and hair in the mirror, seeing him standing behind you and buttoning his shirt up again.

“Well, I think you look even better than before, but I might be a bit biased cause I’m thinking about my come dripping down your legs all night,” he winked.

You glanced down nervously and noticed that his tie was still a little crooked, so you reached up to adjust it for him.  “There,” you mumbled quietly as you let go of it, resting your hands on his chest for a moment.   He looked down at you, you looked up at him, and you could hardly believe that this had all happened— but even more than that, you couldn’t believe how good it felt, how you didn’t find guilt and regret in your stomach but a warm, pleasant feeling like having a new crush.  

“We should do this again sometime,” he offered after a brief silence, making you laugh.

“Maybe if we get nominated again next year,” you winked.

And you did get nominated again next year, although you and Dirk did ‘that’ again a lot more before then.  In fact, when you returned to the Daytime Emmy Awards, you arrived not only as a nominee for Everything At Once but also as Dirk Brûlée’s date.  And you arrived on stage later in the ceremony as a two-time Emmy winner… but you left the stage after his speech as Dirk Brûlée’s fiancée.

[a-jynx]

Dream; - usually really aware when you guys plan date nights! Even with his busy schedule, he’s on top of remembering important nights - he doesn’t want you to feel neglected or forgotten :’) - however he can get forgetful when he’s playing with Sap and George, or streaming, but when he does oh, he feels devastated and will definitely become clingy

[Short imagine]

12:30 PM - he’d forgotten. You sighed, closing your phone and slouching into the couch, listening to your boyfriend’s laughs echo throughout your shared home; Sapnap’s screams filtering through as well.

Frowning, you turned on the living room TV and turned on Netflix, deciding that a movie would take away from the small sting in your gut. You knew he hadn’t meant to get sucked up into his work, and this one time of a few that he’d forgotten, but that doesn’t stop the sadness twisting in your gut. Turning on the Twilight series, and obviously horrible but entertaining favorite [team Jacob anyone?] before grabbing your warmed-up Panda Express and engrossing yourself into the world of vampires and werewolves.

2:45 AM

Dream groaned as his screen flashed a dull red, congratulating George and Sap about their win from their Minecraft Manhunt; 2 hunters. Glancing at the time, he rubbed at his face and clicked out of everything, ending his video. Stretching he leaned back and glanced towards the bed, expecting you to already be cuddled up and passed out, but the comfy queen was empty…

Furrowing his brows, he scooted his chair back and left his room, moving downstairs as Sap came out of his room, still grinning.

“Hey man, nice hunt, though I’m surprised you made it go for so long,” Sap groaned as he joined Dream on the stairwell making the dirty blonde frown.

“What’re you talking about? Manhunts always go for a couple of hours?” Dream snorted as Sap frowned, only to sigh and pat his friend on the shoulder.

“Dude… You had date night tonight..?”

Dream’s eyes widened as he rushed further downstairs, turning into the living room and frowning at the sight. You curled up into the corner, an empty container on the coffee table and the credits rolling of The Twilight Saga; new moon. Squatting down next to you, he gently cradled your cheek as you hummed in sleep, cracking open your eyes as you broke into a smile, your eyes settling on your frowning boyfriend.

“Hiya handsome,”

“Hi, baby… Fuck, I’m so sorry I forgot,” Dream leaned into you, pressing soft kisses to your cheeks, nose, chin, lips - anywhere his lips could reach as you chuckled, raising your hand and threading it through his hair. “I just got so lost in the video, but that’s no excuse I promise I’ll make it up to you-”

“Dream, babe it’s okay, this is like… The first time you’ve forgotten, just don’t make it a full-time thing, yeah?” You laughed as Dream dove into you, circling your waist with his arms and picking you up, causing you to yell out.

“Clay!”

“We’re going to bed, and I’m not letting you go until I see fit,” Dream stated, carrying you upstairs as you glanced to Sapnap, waving to him before you and your still disappointed boyfriend disappeared into his room.

Sapnap - he’s definitely more forgetful than Dream, but he tries okay? - a lot more clingy when he realizes what he did, definitely becomes more of a hopeless romantic

[Short imagine]

“Shouldn’t you be gone by now?” You turned away from the fridge, seeing Dream entering from the living room as you shrugged, closing it with a sigh.

“Yeah, we should’ve left half an hour ago but he joined Karl’s stream… Again.” You mumbled the last bit as Dream frowned, leaning against the cabinets as you messed with the strings of your boyfriends’ basketball shorts.

“Aren’t you gonna say something?”

“Honestly? Probably not, I mean we’ve already had a talk about if he forgets-” you paused when a sudden crash came from upstairs, causing you and Dream to turn towards the stairs as Sap came barreling down. You blinked as he stood in front of you, wrapping his arms around your waist and tucking his face into the crook of your neck, making you giggle.

“Hi, bubs,”

“I’msorryimsorryimsorryimsorryimhorribleicantbelieveiforgotimsosososorry-” Sap mumbled into your skin, as you reached up, ruffling his hair as he pressed kisses along your neck, going along your shoulder before trailing back up and pressing his lips against your chin before settling back between your shoulder and throat.

Dream snickered from next to you guys as he dug into the fridge, digging out some pizza from lunch as Sap looked up and glared at his friend. “So, what reminded you?” The dirty blonde hummed, getting ready for his dinner as your brunette boyfriend scoffed.

“I obviously reminded myself! I’m not that-” he paused as a chime came from his shorts’ pocket causing him to cringe. Furrowing your brows, you reached in and tugged out his phone, breaking into a smile as you realized it was an alarm.

‘ Date Night Idiot!’ had been going off for an hour, you assuming Sap had snoozed it, not realizing why his alarm was going off.

“Dumb.. Okay! I had to set a few reminders,” Sap mumbled, pressing more kisses to your warmed skin, trying to hide away from his embarrassment. You closed his phone and slipped it back into his pocket before grabbing his hand and tugging him upstairs with you, his head hung low as you went into his room, besides a small light from his screen. You jumped onto his bed, opening your arms as Sap shot you a small grin and dove into you, cuddling into your chest and pressing more kisses to your free skin, his hand sneaking up your shirt just resting against your skin, rubbing his thumb across your navel while smiling into your kiss.

“I know I’m extremely forgetful when it comes to romantic stuff, but please always know that I love you even if I have a shitty way of showing it,” he mumbled against your lips, moving his hand from your stomach to your face, holding your cheek as you stared at each other. Sure, you could be upset at him, you could ignore him, maybe argue… But why miss out on warm cuddles and make-up kisses?

Karl - he’s the one who usually makes the dates up! He always tries to make sure his streams and recording don’t overlap the days you agreed on - but who says you always remember?

[Short imagine]

It was the long-awaited shock & facecam stream! You had promised to follow in your friend’s - George, Sap, and Dream’s - steps in a shock stream and even threw in a facecam if your followers had gotten one of your posts to hit one million likes, and your fans did not disappoint! Your tweet promising this stream had hit two million likes, 10,506 retweets, and continuous replies. So, here you were, setting up for your stream when Karl walked in…

“Sweetness..? What’re you, uh, what’re you doing..?” He nervously giggled as he stood beside you, his hands nervously tugging on your hoodie as you turned towards him, frowning.

“I’m getting ready for the shock stream? Remember? I planned this a couple months ago and we agreed on today?” You blinked at your boyfriend. You both had talked about this stream since you arranged the day - why is it suddenly a problem?

“Oh, well, remember we agreed that today - tonight - was going to be date night? We were gonna watch some of the new season of Survivor?” Karl hummed as you blinked, turning fully towards him with your eyes wide as you glanced towards your starting soon screen. You could feel your heart plummet into your stomach - you had done the one thing you and Karl agreed to never do, yet here you were..

“Baby, oh my god, I’m- holy shit, I’m so sorry,” you murmured, rubbing your face as Karl shot you a small grin, scooting closer and musing your hair as you leaned into his touch, cradling your own face with dread coursing through you.

“Bubs, it’s okay, I know you’ve been planning this, and I should’ve thought ahead-”

“No!” You burst, gripping his wrist and pressing light kisses to it before groaning against his skin. “No, it’s not okay, we always try and plan for us to have date nights between our busy schedules and it’s such an asshole thing for me to not double-check that it was-” Karl leaned down, quieting you with pressing his lips to yours. You melted into it as he turned your chair to face him more, causing him to grip your hands tightly in his before pulling away.

“It’s okay because I want you to go through with this stream! You’ve been excited about it and I know the guys are wanting to join, besides-” he paused, pressing butterfly-like kisses to your hands as you grinned at your boyfriend.

“Date night can be any night for us,”

“So, what I’m hearing is you love me more than Survivor?” You giggled as Karl furrowed his brows and scoffed, dropping your hands dramatically before pulling his gaming chair next to yours as you began to set up your facecams’ final touches.

“I love you, like a lot, but know your boundaries, Bubs,” Karl scoffed as you rolled your eyes, leaning over and pressing a quick kiss to his cheek and clicking through your screens before popping up on your stream with a ‘Hey guys!’

~~~

helloooo~ long time no writing and im so sorry about that - life has gotten a little crazy and I sort of lost motivation to write a lot again. i hope these headcanons and my future idea for some can hold you over until I have some sort of - lack of better word - motivation :'D

until tomorrow, i hope you have a beautiful day ~ J

[swordgayist]

cultural appropriation in ATLA (hinduism edition)

i’m sure there’s already a ton of posts about this, but whatever, i’m still making one idc. 

ATLA’s cultural appropriation, everyone knows about it, the white people don’t speak about it, and the asian and indigenous people get ignored. we know the cycle. but i wanted to come here and highlight some of the most prominent examples of ATLA abusing hinduism, as i am kinda sorta hindu (i was raised in a hindu household, i go to chinmaya mission, that kinda shit). i might forget some things so keep that in mind.

this is gonna be divided into 3 main sections, since there are different ways that they disrespect hinduism that i don’t wanna lump together.

and i’d say i know a lot about hinduism but that doesn’t make me an expert, obviously, so if other hindus have anything to add and/or correct then please do !! and if anyone else wants to share how their cultures were appropriated then please do that as well !!

so let’s get started shall we?

appropriating hinduism

1) the avatar

we’ll start with the most obvious example: the avatar itself

i know that there are parts of the avatar mythos that are taken from other cultures as well but the idea of the avatar itself is primarily from hinduism.

basically in hinduism, the term dashavatara refers to the 10 reincarnations of lord vishnu (the god of preservation), with avatar(a) meaning form or incarnation in sanskrit, and das(a) meaning ten. it was said that whenever the world was out of balance, lord vishnu would come down to earth in a certain form to restore balance. Each reincarnation is considered a different life with a different story. the avatars of lord vishnu are often considered the saviors of the world.

so basically, the central idea of the show and the actual name of the show is largely based on hinduism.

2) chakras

many different indian religions have a concept of chakras (chakra meaning wheel or circle in sanskrit), but hinduism is the one that primarily preaches the system of seven chakras, the version used in ATLA.

chakras connect the physical body to the ‘subtle’ body (referring more to the spirit and the psyche) by connecting parts of the body to aspects of the mind. the idea is that through different forms of steady meditation you can manipulate the different chakras and allow the pure flow of energy through the body.

the whole idea of chakras on ATLA is that aang has to unblock them all to let the cosmic energy flow through him so that he can go into the avatar state at will. so yeah, pretty much that whole idea was taken from hinduism.

3) terminologies

these are just a few terms that were taken from hinduism. i’m pretty sure there are more that i can’t think of right now but yeah.

“agni” kai 

i’ll be honest i don’t know where the ‘kai’ part is from, i don’t think it’s from hinduism but if it is well fuck me i guess.  ‘agni’ in hinduism is the god of fire, so the creators used it in ‘agni kai’, the name for a firebending duel.

“bumi”

this is in reference to the hindu word for ‘earth’, which is bhoomi. this is also in reference to our goddess of earth, bhoomi devi. also this doesn’t really bother me but i wonder if the creators knew that bhoomi is a name typically used for women (as are most hindi names ending in ‘i’/‘ee’).

in general, concepts like having multiple complex gods (the spirits) who are capable of good and evil and the reincarnation cycle are prominent in a lot of asian cultures, including (and arguably primarily) hinduism.

mocking hinduism

now we get into the mockery of hinduism in ATLA, because it is very much there.

1) whoever the fuck that baboon guy in the spirit world was

now what the fuck was this.

i mean i wouldn’t say this is the most egregious example of them making fun of brown people but lord why did this even need to be there? this random guy from the spirit world has an indian accent ? and is fervently chanting ‘om’ for some reason, and it’s clearly meant to be seen as comical. also portraying brown people as monkeys....... really.

2) combustion man/sparky sparky boom man

when rewatching ATLA in 2019 i actually had no idea that this was a thing, because the last time i had watched it was as a kid and i didn’t finish it.

so lord was i in for a surprise when i saw...

now... now what.

if you didn’t know, combustion man’s ‘third eye’ is designed to replicate the hindu god of destruction, lord shiva. right down to the vibhuti on his forehead (referring to the three line markings around the third eye).

in hinduism, lord shiva’s third eye is used to reduce people to ashes, though as far as i can recall, not very frequently. the primary significance of the third eye is that it represents the ability of higher spiritual thought and higher consciousness.

the ATLA writers take the ACTUAL significance of the third eye, throw it out the window, and then take its destructive abilities to make a super duper cool and dangerous new firebending technique.

and if that wasn’t bad enough, the actual person who uses this technique, and is meant to emulate a GOD who is PRAISED, is a scary, burly, half metal man who is a villain and an assassin. not to mention the design of his facial hair replicates that super duper scary “terrorist” depiction of brown people, particularly of muslims, that white people are so thoroughly terrified of for no reason. 

this is a parody of a god, and they portrayed him as this terrifying, maniacal fucking assassin who, along with p’li, the combustion bender from LOK, is constantly referred to as a “third-eyed freak”. i’ve made this analogy before and i’ll do it again, this is like making jesus into a hitman.

now onto my favorite example...

3) guru pathik

ah, this motherfucker.

i don’t really have any problems with him as a character, i mean hell, must’ve taken a fuck ton of patience to handle aang’s “why would choose cosmic energy over katara” bullshit.

but we all know it, we see it plain as day, don’t even try to deny it.

“guru” literally just means teacher or guide, so i don’t really know why pathik needed to be referred to as “guru” so distinctively from aang’s other teachers and guides, but that’s just extremely trivial compared to all the other issues with this character.

first of all what is this character design? what is he even wearing? if they’re trying to replicate the clothes of swamis and priests and stuff this is already wrong, realized people don’t dress like this. and why the fuck does he have an indian accent? and why was this indian accent done by a non indian (brian george)?

once again, the poor but extremely heavy indian accent is clearly meant to be mocking, if it wasn’t, they wouldn’t’ve gone out of their way to get a non indian person to DO an indian accent, and instead they would’ve just gotten an actual indian person to play the role. 

and oh yeah, the onion and banana juice. because hindus just eat weird shit right.

whether it’s actually weird or not, the show certainly portrays it as weird. and as far as i know no hindu actually fucking drinks onion and banana juice.

ironic because brown people can absolutely destroy white people in cooking. but i digress.

i know what you’re all waiting for. because the guru apparently didn’t have enough fun with guru pathik, so they just had to come back to him in book 3:

where do i begin.

so this is obviously john o’bryan’s super funny and hilarious depiction of pathik as a hindu god.

usually when a god has multiple arms it’s to carry an array of things, from flowers to weapons to instruments, and one hand is typically free to bless devotees (ie. goddess durga and lord vishnu respectively):

but of course white people see this as weird and so they make fun of it, hence guru pathik having multiple arms just flailing about aimlessly (save for the two that are being used to carry the aforementioned onion and banana juice).

then there’s the whole light behind pathik’s head which is usually depicted in drawings of hindu gods to show that they are celestial.

also what the fuck is he holding? is that supposed to be a veena? because this is what a veena looks like:

and i assume the reason this was added was to mock the design of goddess saraswathi, who carries a veena:

but that right there in the picture of pathik looks more like a tambura than a veena. 

and it also just kinda looks like a banjo?

but i guess the animators just searched up “long indian instrument” and slapped it on there. actually no, that’s giving them too much credit, they probably didn’t search it up at all. 

and then the actual scene is pathik singing crazily about chakras tasting good or something while playing the non-veena and it’s all supposed to be some funky crazy hallucination that aang is having due to sleep deprivation. just some crazy dream, just as crazy as talking appa and momo sparring with swords or tree-ozai coming to life.

our gurus and swamis and sadhus and generally realized people are very respected in hinduism, they’re people we look up to and honor very much. and our GODS are beings that we literally worship. and the writers just take both and make caricatures out of them for other white people to laugh at.

4) other shit

before we move to the next portion i just wanna mention there are also smaller backhanded jabs that i can’t really remember now, but one example was when zuko was all “we’ll be sure to remember that, guru goody goody”. or when a character would meditate and say “om” only when the meditation is supposed to be portrayed as comical or pointless. or in bitter work when sokka was rambling on about karma. small things like that. but moving on.

south asian representation, or lack thereof

now i finally get to the “losing” hinduism part. by this i mean the lack of actual representation there is of south asians (the region where hinduism is primarily practiced) despite the fact that hinduism plays such a big role in the show’s world design.

i think it’s safe to say that broadly the main cast consists of aang, katara, sokka, zuko, toph, azula, iroh, mai, ty lee, and suki. 

a grand total of none of these characters are south asian. the writers don’t even attempt to add any south asian main characters. 

there are characters with dark skin, like haru and jet, but a) they’re not confirmed to be south asian and don’t have any south asian features or south asian names, b) they’re side characters, so they don’t count as representation, and c) even if they were south asian and main characters, jet wouldn’t even count because he’s portrayed as a terrorist.

the ONLY truly south asian character we get is fucking guru pathik. so yeah. not representation.

i don’t get how the creators of this show rip off of hinduism (among many other south asian cultures they rip off of), mock indians, and then don’t even have the decency to HAVE a main character who is south asian.

i’ve never gotten a chance to compile all this, and this definitely isn’t all the creators have done, but i hope this was somewhat informative.