#guess which moron just wasted the entire day on what game—

[deus-ex-mona]

yk when the cinderellas—

[peter-parcoeur]

Good girl gone bad | (frat!tom)

request: How about frat cocky Tom at a Christmas party, wearing something that shows off his muscles, and he keeps flirting with y/n, who hates him. Throughout the night, he slowly wins her over, and once he has her in the palm of his hand, he makes her compliment him and then worship his muscles and then get on her knees and suck on him through his boxer briefs and then finally he f*cks her face and he's dirty talking and boasting all the way through :)

disclaimer: Hiii, so this was a request (sadly anonymous but if you’re out there reading this, I hope you enjoy and this lives up to your expectations...) this is my first attempt at fratboy!tom so I apologize in advance if that’s not exactly what you expected from it or whatever. Also I’m french so, some unfortunate spelling mistakes may occur and for this I apologize too! (damn I do really know how to sell myself, don’t I?) Anyway, enjoy your reading and please give it a ♥ if you liked it and a comment if you either really liked or hated it. Annnnd I’m talking too much.

warnings: smut smut smutty smut is to be expected, obviously. includes: brat!tom, braggy!tom, boasting!tom and some serious potty mouth / enemies to lovers (well, more like enemies to fuckbuddies idk) / oral-sex / face-fuck / dirtyDIRTY talk/ fingering / brief mentions of self luuuuvin (that’s masturbation, for you) / dom!tom + sub!reader / I guess a little bit of humiliation and praise kink idk if that’s triggering so just in case... / roughness... I guess that’s it? probably enough already.

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« Come on, it’ll be fun! God knows you could really use some fun… » your friend’s voice almost begged over the phone as you safely locked it between your cheek and your shoulder to open the door to your dorm room, your keyrings grazing the piece of metal surrounding the lock with a soft, clicking noise.

“Yeah cause hanging out with complete morons as they get shit-faced on cheap vodka is totally my idea of a good night...”

“ Urghhhh, Y/N please, are you really gonna be a Grinch about it?”

“  Well, it’s a Christmas party so I guess that’s convenient?”

You could tell your friend was getting frustrated by now, the slight change of tone in her voice making her sound desperate. Kicking off your shoes and dropping your books above the mess on your desk, you immediately crashed onto your bed with a loud, exhausted groan as this never-ending day had managed to push every single one of your buttons. You felt completely drained and yet, your best-friend wanted you to join her to some frat-house where, apparently, the “most incredible” Christmas party was about to be held? Uh-uh. No way. Your actual plan for a Friday night (= eating take-out food in front of some true crime documentary on Netflix) seemed much more appealing than the effort your friend seemed to require from you.

“You’re really gonna bail on me? What if something happens to me?”

“Now this is guilt pressure and you’re so much better than this! “ You laughed, “plus… I know you wanna go just so you can make out with Harrison… You really don’t need me for this and truth be told, I really don’t need to see that guy shove his tongue down your throat!”

“Maybe YOU need someone to shove his tongue down your throat “

“I’ll pass, thanks “

“Come on, how long has it been since you’ve got laid? “

“That’s… way beside the point?””

Still, you thought about it.

How long has it been, really?

Well. As far as you could remember, there were a couple (disastrous) tinder dates at the beginning of the semester. Nothing major even though the sex was still okay. Then you had decided to delete the app so you could focus on your studies, thinking that, eventually, life would grant you with an actual IRL, cute boy who could actually work a little harder to get into your pants whereas it had taken a single swipe on a screen for the previous contestants.

But for now, as the semester had come to an end and Christmas break was around the corner, it only occurred to you just how busy you had been, studying all night long and running on fumes and gallons of coffee. Maybe your friend was right. Maybe you truly needed to blow off some steam. Sometimes you wished you were more like her, carefree and less picky when it came to boys and random flings. Like her current crush, Harrison.

Harrison was a typical heartthrob with the face of a Greek God, so it was only natural for him to act like a brat and play with girls as he wished. With his piercing blue eyes and dreamy smile, girls could only wish he would look at them twice. But still, he wasn’t the worst part of Team Jackass, as you liked to call them. Their captain was actually Tom Holland. Football Quarterback, Tom collected girls’ hearts like trophies and held his pride within his questionable reputation. Party animal, heavy drinker and confirmed exhibitionist since he’d been caught fucking a cheerleader in the middle of the football field right after a game, his name was on everyone’s lips, whether they whispered gossips down the faculty’s corridor or muffled into a pillow as he dived into another naïve, besotted girl with the promise of an encore. To this day, all of the girls he had laid his eyes on were still waiting for a call-back.

You pulled a disgusted face at the thought of witnessing his little hunting game one more time. Tom was actually one of the main reasons why you usually skipped any frat party now. There were just so much time you could waste, sipping on some funky tasting “home-made” punch as “Football superstar” Tom Holland bragged about his athletic skills or how many girls he had fucked over the last couple days. Sometimes, it felt like a competition between him and his brain-dead friends. Somehow, you just knew he kept score of his one-night stands. Maybe he’d give you five stars for trying anal, a deep throat would give you another six and god forbid if you flattered his enormous, gigantic cock, well then, by all means, the throne would be yours. There was just something about him that screamed and irradiated praise kink.

“Y/N? Have I lost you?”

Your friend’s voice brought you back to reality as you seemed to have blacked out for a while.

Then, out of nowhere and unexpectedly, the words came out of your mouth.

“What time is the party then?”

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For every party, there’s a dress code.

Surely, a “Christmas” party just couldn’t be, without a fair splash of colorful jumpers or any subtle hints at Santa Clause as an excuse for a last-minute theme. Still, standing in front of what could only be Wednesday Addams’ wardrobe, you were suddenly hit by your lack of interest for any piece of clothes that wasn’t a shade between black and white. Was beige even a color anyway?

For a brief second, you considered wearing your infamous Christmas onesie, basically a fluffy one piece with a zipper, an oversized hood and covered with snowflakes and candy canes. The jokes would never end but no one could blame you for being ‘off theme’, then.

In the end, you settled for a rare “colorful” top which, luckily, happened to be whatever shade of green Christmas trees actually were. It was also skin tight and you knew for a fact it made your chest looks twice its size because of the way the velvet fabric enhanced your waistline. It was nowhere near provocative with its long sleeves and turtle-neck so you figured you could be a little bit more risky with the bottom part of your outfit, grabbing the black mini-skirt you’d bought a week before on a splurge, even though you didn’t know if you’d ever find the confidence to pull it off. It was short, there was no denying that as you turned around in the shop’s fitting room to catch a glimpse at your backside, knowing your whole ass would be exposed if you ever dared to bend down even so slightly.

Still, you felt sexy in it and as a girl who happily traded a sexy dress for yoga pants and an oversized hoodie, any piece of clothes that made you feel good about yourself was an instant buy.

Looking down at your final outfit as it laid down on your bed, a pair of nice ankle boots at the bottom of it, you patted yourself on the back for making the extra effort and walked to the bathroom for a well-deserved boiling shower.  Staring at your reflection in the mirror above the sink, you sighed to yourself as the aftermath of a sleep deprived week and lack of skin care routine or basic maintenance whatsoever hit you like a truck on the highway. Your hair had been wrapped into the same messy bun for days and it would definitely take some professional skills to cover up the bags under your eyes.

Maybe this party was the wake-up call you needed, the equivalent of a Judging look from your mother every time you visited her after a while. You could almost hear her complain about how unhealthy you looked and how you should wear more “flattering” clothes. Ironically, you also knew she would never approve the skirt you intended to wear that night. You remembered just too well that frown she’d given you at your father’s 60th birthday and how you had to gulp an entire bottle of red wine to forget about the fact the woman who gave birth to you had called you a prostitute for wearing a dress above the knees. Sometimes it’d be like that. Family gathering were like a plague, somehow, you just couldn’t escape it and it would either scar you for life or make you wish you were dead.

As you entered the cubicle, the coldness of the tiles hit you, covering your skin with goosebumps and sending shivers down your spine. It took you a couple minutes to adjust as you waited for the water to turn hot enough to coat the mirror with a thick foggy layer. Only then did you relax, letting go of this week’s emotionally charged weight upon your shoulders and focusing on yourself, at last.

It was a fairly long shower as you decided to go through your entire haircare routine instead of a brief, one minute shampoo. Not to mention the fact you also had to shave entirely as it felt like it would be a good way to get rid of this nightmare of a semester, like stepping out of your old skin and into a new one. Usually, body hair was probably too far down the list of your preoccupations to even be noticed but you figured, as you felt surprisingly motivated, now was the right time to make your body smooth as a baby. You actually loved the feeling of a soft, freshly shaved skin.

As you rinsed off the soap, your hands fondling the body parts water failed to reach, your mind unexpectedly wandered through some steamy thoughts as soon as your fingertips grazed your slit, taking some shy dip between your folds. It was no surprise that a simple, barely there stroke would instantly strike your arousal, after all, it had been a while. You shamelessly admitted that your studies had taken over your life, up to the point you’d even find yourself too exhausted for some self-love. Somewhere in your chest of drawers, the small collection of adult toys you owned were probably collecting dust in the middle of your socks and panties, wondering when they’d get to take a swim and make you squirm into your sheets as you hold on to the headboard, biting your lip until it turns white so you don’t scream through climax.

What struck you the most was the fact TomfuckingHolland came to your mind the very second your middle finger met your clit, circling it softly as you felt electricity spark through your legs, making it jolt. Why the hell was his stupid smug splattered all over your unspeakable thoughts when he was, by far, the last man on Earth you’d let come close to your naked self? Let alone in a shower cubicle the size of a shoe-box where you’d have no space whatsoever to escape his heavy, muscular chest.

His body looked ridiculously built for a man with the face of a 13 year-old. Sometimes you’d catch him randomly flex throughout the day, showing off his enormous biceps to anyone willing to praise his impeccable shape. There would be no room for these guns in there, you thought as a brief image of these massive arms shielding you from both side, fists tight against the tiles, came immediately to your mind. What took you by surprise wasn’t to actually picture Tom standing in there with you, naked and definitely willing to make that room a lot steamier, but the fact you slipped a finger into your surprisingly dripping core as soon as you imagined him stepping closer so your bare, sticky chests would meet, his obvious arousal poking at your inner thigh, begging to make an entrance.

You stopped before you inevitably came, even though your body craved for that well-deserved relief. You may have been hornier than you thought, but not nearly horny enough to hand your first orgasm in months on a silver plate to a boy who probably stroked himself in front of a mirror on a daily basis. Your thighs squeezed together where your fingers had left a desperate void, rinsing your entire body with a much colder water, hoping it would bring your sanity back.

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You looked incredible.

It wasn’t just you boosting your ego through a pep talk in front of your mirror back in your dorm this time, and even if you loved to give yourself an encouraging speech, praising whatever features you thought made the cut in the top three of your best assets as you gathered the strength to go out in public in an outfit pretty far from your comfort zone, nothing could ever beat the look people gave you as you walked into the frat house looking like a three courses meal. There was just something about that short time slot where you caught a gaze and knew what that look was all about.

You knew Liza, the head student with a soft spot for athletes so obvious she probably had the entire football team’s handprints tattooed on her skin, just hated to see you get the attention she usually caught. Athletes loved nerdy, smart-ass girls like her, but to her own despair, you actually happened to be one of those, only with a shorter skirt and thicker thighs.

You knew half of Team Jackass was already staring at you, wishing they’d catch a glimpse of whatever you had to offer underneath that impeccable outfit as the soft fabric of your skirt kept rising up, every step bringing you closer to an unfortunate peek at the plain, white cotton undies you had chosen to wear that night.

But above anything, you could most definitely feel someone’s gaze upon you, burning up your skin like lasers trying to scan through your clothes. Suddenly, you felt exposed and with a simple smirk, Tom-Holland came out, strong as ever, just so he could pop out the comforting bubble you had built around you. Of course, he had chosen to wear the tightest white tee-shirt so everyone could distinctively see each of his six, rock-hard abs. Of course, his sleeves were slightly rolled up to enhance his biceps and if you weren’t familiar with his despicable behavior, seeing him flex just so he could kiss the pumped-up mount irrupting from his upper arm like a fresh batch of popcorn on a stove, you could have barfed immediately at the disgusting sight of a man with an ego the size of a fucking comet.

For now, you simply rolled your eyes all the way to the back of your head and watched as he smiled cockily, his hand reaching out for a redhead girl’s cheek even though his eyes were most definitely undressing you from afar. You could tell the girl had dressed to impress as she was tightly wrapped into the just-slutty-enough version of Santa’s outfit. Basically a velvet red dress with a fluffy white strap on top of her bustier. The way she laughed and twirled her long curly strand of hair as she gazed lovingly at Tom was enough for you to know she would soon join the never-ending list of names on his score board.

Shaking your head at how easy it seemed for him to get laid within the first hour of a party, you made your way to the kitchen where the alcohol seemed to be. As expected, most students were already sipping at some questionable cocktail right from the bowl with a straw and since you didn’t feel like going straight for the strong stuff, you settled for a beer, fiddling with the bottle cap for a solid minute before you heard a voice coming from behind your back.

“Need some hand with that, sweetheart?”

The cocky tone and thick accent immediately sent you off as a long, single shiver ran down your spine from the disgusting thoughts it brought along. It had come to the point you couldn’t even stand his stupid voice.

“I’m fine, thanks” you lied, your first still tightly gripped on your sealed beverage.

“You look like you could use some strength…”

Of course, he had to bring up his impressive, spectacular strength within seconds. Maybe he expected you to slow clap, bow down or throw confetti’s all over him for being strong enough to open a beer bottle. What on Earth would you do without his strong, manly hands?

Grinding your teeth as your tongue clicked against your palate out of pure annoyance, you gave him the most unimpressed look as he grabbed the bottle from your hand, popping out the cap hard enough to make it fly off and hit the table with a soft, metallic thump. Smirking to himself, Tom handed you the bottle back, tilting his head as he obviously expected some enthusiastic reaction.

“Do you want a medal or something?”

“A simple ‘thank you’ would be a good start? “He mocked, raising his eyebrows in a way that made your consider throwing the entire bottle at his face to wash away his stupid cockiness.

“Thanks” you simply blurted out, raising your beer slightly before walking away as you took a couple sips. It wasn’t even that cold or remotely good.

Tom watched as you walked away in silence, his eyes inevitably drawn to the way your hips and that glorious ass of yours seemed to wiggle into that daunting skirt. Grazing his thumb over his bottom lip with a smirk, the eager flame in his eyes made his will to take you to a quiet place grow bigger with each step you took.

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The music was getting considerably louder as people were now dancing all over the place, from the staircase to whatever was left of furniture after too many parties hosted in this house.  The constant buzzing sound of chit-chats and laughter was slowly making your head spin as you gulped on your third (or was it the fourth?) Shot of tequila. As expected, Y/BFF/N had wasted no time as she was already clinging to Harrison’s neck, feasting on his mouth like an open buffet. His hands were on her bum, holding on to it for dear life with a strong grip. At least, she was having fun.

Out of boredom and to your own surprise, you had agreed on doing shots with a couple people you knew from class. Not technically what you’d call reliable friends but you always bumped into them at parties where you’d basically chat, and drink. From afar, you could see some people had gathered around a table where Team Jackass had started the inevitable beer pong contest. Nibbling at a piece of lime, hoping it would wash away the burning haze of the tequila, you winced at the sourness as your eyes suddenly locked with Tom’s. He was now holding his arms up on both side, raising one fist through the air as he had clearly won that first round. There was something pathetic about a man in his twenties begging for attention and acting like he was about to claim the gold medal at the Olympics when all he did was throw a feather-weighted plastic ball into a red cup.

All the alcohol in the world would never get you drunk enough to tolerate this guy.

Sometimes, you couldn’t help but think it was a shame to see him act so pitiful when he face was actually okay. Well. He was definitely cute as long as his mouth was shut and his stupid, pretentious smug out of the way. With his soft, chocolate brown eyes, his tousled eyebrows and thin pink lips, he could’ve been a guy you’d be interested in. His brown hair was somehow, always tucked into a snapback or a beanie but you had caught a glimpse of his natural curls once and though it killed you on the inside to admit it, he did look great when he didn’t try too hard to be a complete asshole.

Lost in your thoughts, you didn’t see him walk towards you.

“We’re doing shots now? “

“Impressive” you frowned, “did you figure it out all by yourself?” you chuckled, swallowing what’s left of lime, basically pulp, in one soft gulp.

“You like to act all smart ass around me, don’t you?”

“Correction: I am, in fact, smart… Not that it’s something you’re familiar with so, pardon me if it’s all too confusing for you… “

“Are you calling me dumb, then?” he was frowning now, his enormous self-centered head deflating under the unexpected pressure of your witty come-back.

“Did you hear the word ‘dumb’ coming out of my mouth?”

“No – but I sure know what I would like to see come in that sweet mouth of yours, darling”

The fact he had the nerves to say that kind of stuff right to your face was enough to piss you off but what caught you off guard was his hand reaching for your face as his thumb delicately grazed your bottom lip, pulling at it just enough for you to taste his fingertip.

“Surely, lime isn’t the only thing you like to suck on?” he smiled, cocky as ever as you could feel actual rage building up from your core and all the way to the back of your throat.

“I suggest you keep your hands off me” you snapped, pushing his hand off your face as he laughed to himself, the raspy sound caught in his throat making you throb against all odds.

“Or what? What you gonna do about it, uh?” he teased, confident as ever, his words coming out of his mouth halfway between a threat and a challenge. His arms were crossed against his chest now, making every inch of muscle he owned just pop out. There was nothing sweet about the way his body was built, and was he ever given the occasion, you knew he could break your spine in half with his one hand. You just wished you’d never thought about it as the filthiest images came to your mind, starting with Tom spinning you around over the sink in the bathroom and pinning you down with his palm pressed between your shoulder blades as he pounded hard and fast into you.

Maybe Tequila had gotten to your head faster than you expected.

“I know girls like you” he started, walking backwards until your back hit the wall and you were completely trapped between his arms, one of his leg parting yours so his knee would slowly graze that spot where your thighs met, claiming his access to that precious part of your body you could definitely feel getting damper against your will.

“What about it?” you asked, slightly more provocative than you had intended.

“You like to act all innocent, pretending you have higher standards…” His breath was warm, wrapped into the thickness of alcohol, curving a ball at the back of his throat so his voice would come out raspier and lower than usual, “… but secretly you just want guys like me to fuck the back of your throat until you choke”.

You felt it. Your pussy throb at the single thought of it. You didn’t want to physically react to these obscene images, words coming out of his mouth filthier than anything you’d ever heard, but still, as hard as you wanted to remain cold and unbothered, there was no denying for the dampness between your thighs. You just hoped he wouldn’t get a chance to notice it.

“You disgust me” it took you all the strength you had to spat back at him, and even then, all he did was smile then chuckle softly to himself as his hand slid up your throat, wrapping it slowly until his thumb pressed itself into the crook under your chin, nesting as it was made to be there.

“Please—are you really going to pretend you’ve never thought about my cock filling up your pretty mouth?” his fingers found your lips again, tracing it slowly as your heartbeat increased with each word, “like you’ve never thought about me when you finger yourself at night” he paused, pinching his bottom lip between his teeth as he tilted his head, his mouth coming closer to your hear with a dark whisper “I know you do, baby… I know you touch yourself thinking of me, wishing those fingers were mine, diving into your dripping cunt… Touching spots you could only wish you’d reach… how I would spread those lips open and run my tongue all over your slit….” A warm breeze brushed your neck as a cursed laugh escaped his lips, making you squirm unexpectedly, “I bet you taste so sweet, I would never get enough of that glorious pussy…”

By now, you were wrapped into the intoxicating scent of his cologne. It was strong and manly as expected, yet comforting in a way you didn’t want to think about. You didn’t want to picture yourself wearing that grey hoodie he loved to wear after a game, his perfume raining over your bare chest as you’d lazily ride him on his dorm bed after you’d get bored of whatever movie you’d settled for, pushing your panties to the side as he couldn’t be bothered taking it off completely. You didn’t want to picture him unzipping that same hoodie, palming your boob with one of his strong hands as his mouth sucked on your nipple until your soft, delicate skin turned red from all the biting marks. You didn’t want to feel yourself stretch around his rock-hard cock as he’d lift your legs up to wrap it around his neck, because he’s that kind of jerk who likes to show off even when he’s completely buried inside of you, that kind of complete asshole who loves to remind you just how deep he can go, smirking to himself as he hits your special spot over and over and over…. until you beg for him to stop. That kind of utterly disgusting dickhead who’d never stop, because he knows that, deep down, you just want him to keep going.

“Now you can tell me you’re not already wet… But we both know that’s a lie” he smiled again and as you felt his hand going down, palming you through your top and all the way down to the front of your skirt, you finally decided to come to your senses and grabbed his wrist into your tight fist, stopping him just in time before he’s reached the only approval he truly needed.

“Go to hell, Holland” you snapped, using all of your strength to push him off and walk away.

You didn’t turn back to see him chuckle at the sight of your flushed face.

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The coldness of water came as a shock as you bent over the sink in the bathroom, splashing your face until it didn’t feel like your skin was on fire. Grabbing a towel, you patted your cheeks and forehead, staring at the reflection in front of you. You definitely looked flustered, like you had just run a marathon when all you really did was to suffer through your archenemy’s evil little game.

Usually, you would have just brushed it off and that’d be it. But tonight, for some reason, you just couldn’t seem to shake him off your thoughts, his voice still echoing through your head like a curse without a cure. Outside the bathroom, you could hear the muffled sound of music and screams coming from the living room as beer-pong had turned into strip-pong with everyone removing a piece of clothes every time the ball missed the cup. Typical, drunken behavior. Soon enough these parties would turn into a massive orgy and it wouldn’t even come out as a big surprise.

Freshen up a little had helped you settle your thoughts back into place but still, your body didn’t seem to catch a break as the build-up tension and frustration Tom had caused within your core was yet to be released. There was no denying that your toys would have come handy if you were back to your dorm room as it felt like your pussy kept clenching for no reason, like the gaping mouth of the thirstiest man in the middle of a drought. You knew how bad you needed to put it out of its misery but if you thought undressing for a ping pong game was bad, what would happen if anyone walked on you literally fingering yourself in the bathroom of a frat-house? No one would shut up about it.

Tom would certainly not. Shut. Up. About. It. Ever.

You pressed your thighs together, hoping for some sort of relief as his words came back haunting you, thinking about how your hand had found its way between your legs earlier in the shower, the very second you had thought about his body pushing you up against the tiles. Is that what he was to you, now? A fantasy? Would you become another disgusting cliché of a girl begging for the typical frat boy to fuck her at a party because she couldn’t handle his dirty mouth?

Then you thought about your best-friend and how the last time you’d seen her, she was heading upstairs with Harrison, giggling, her lipstick smudged all over her chin after making out heavily on the couch up to the point everyone was starting to wonder whether they should be charged for that kind of peep-show or just roll with it. How she was probably getting fucked in his bedroom while you were standing alone in a bathroom, dripping wet for a man you hated down to the very bottom of your guts.

The door swung open abruptly, making you jump.

“So that’s where you’ve been hiding!” Tom smiled, walking in.

“Can’t a girl have some privacy?”

“I need to take a piss, you’re the one standing out there doing nothing” he joked, walking to the toilets with his hands already fiddling with the zipper of his pants.

“Hum, excuse me?” you spat, widening your eyes as you realized he was genuinely about to use the toilets with you still standing a few meters away.

“I said I needed to take a piss… So either you just stand there watching, which I don’t mind really… or you can get out?” he pointed his chin towards the door, unbothered as he casually pulled his dick out of his boxers.

Both infuriated and shocked, you turned around as there was no point leaving the room now that his whole junk was out and already halfway through it.

“Do you have to be that disgusting? Really you’re such a pig!” you complained as you heard him sigh with relief before the toilet flush broke the most awkward silence of your entire existence.

“Don’t worry darling, I’ll clean it up real nice just for you…” he smiled even though you still had your back turned to him. You heard him use the tap, washing his hands for a considerably long amount of time. At least he wasn’t one of those filthy rats who thought basic hygiene was optional.

“What were you doing by the way?” he finally asked, grabbing the towel to your left, “touching yourself thinking about me?”

You turned around to face his cocky face once more, this time with a furious need to slap it. Hard.

“You know I’ve seen you walking around campus a couple times, Y/N… Those big jumpers and yoga pants you like to wear don’t do that body any justice, but this?” he circled his finger in the air, pointing out her entire outfit “this, I like to see… and if you weren’t being a little brat I would gladly pull up that skirt up to your waist and have you there, above the sink…”

“I’m being a brat?” you scoffed. That was rich, coming from the ultimate king of bratty assholes.

“Well you call it whatever you like but denying yourself something you truly need just to prove a point seems a little childish…” he shrugged, shoving his hands into this jeans pocket and giving you a perfect glimpse at the veins running up his arms and disappearing underneath his rolled up sleeves.

“You think all girls are begging for you to fuck them? Really?”

“Probably, yeah, and who could blame them really? I have a great cock and I’ve never had a single bad review about the way I use it…” he smiled, with the arrogance of a king sitting on a throne of indecency.

“You’re so full of yourself… it’s insane” you shook your head with pure disgust.

“Then go ahead and prove it”

“Prove what, exactly?”

“That you’re not dripping wet as we speak…”

Point taken.

You were, indeed, dripping wet and soon enough, you’d have some serious explaining to do as the thin cotton fabric of your underwear was now soaked with your unsolicited arousal. Even though your head was filled with hateful thoughts and resentment for Tom, it felt like your body would not stop begging for his touch, dragging him closer like two pieces of magnets on a fridge. Unconsciously, you were now standing a couple inch away from his face, so close you could actually smell the soft mixt of menthol and alcohol from his breath. There was no point denying the obvious tension between you two as you looked like you were about to break into a passionate kiss but now it was just a fight between your will for self-preservation and your body, aching to be touched.

And so you heard yourself say these words you never thought you’d say, like you were standing in the audience as your other self was performing on stage, making some questionable decisions you weren’t 100% okay with.

“Which one’s your bedroom?”

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You could have fought longer, for the sake of your personal values, but as your feet were swiped off the ground, your back hitting the door as it closed behind you with a loud slam, all of your good sense and respectable choices just vanished as much filthier thoughts buried them for good.

Your legs were wrapped around his waist as his hands had wasted no time and found their way under your top, fondling your breast with the hunger of a wolf. Your lips attached to his, you moaned louder than expected as he pushed himself a little harder against you, the obvious stiffness of his crotch pressing against your aching core. Your skirt had risen up to your waist from spreading your legs a little too wide, flashing your white panties as it was now so soaked you could definitely see the outline of your lips, the thin fabric sticking to your slit. Catching your breath, heavy pants breaking your kiss, you looked into Tom’s eyes only to see nothing but pure, absolute lust in them. As you tugged at his brown locks, a couple strand curling slightly at the back of his neck, you watched as his snapback fell to the floor with a thump, unleashing his brown untamed mane.

Suddenly, he didn’t seem so bad, groaning slightly as your fingers scrapped the back of his neck, your lips sucking on his throat for good measures. With his head tilted back slightly, it felt like Tom was getting soft for a while, caving in so you could take control over him. Unfortunately, that didn’t last long as he suddenly traced a hand all the way down to your inner thigh, immediately pushing your panties to the side with his middle finger.

“I knew it…” he smiled, sliding his finger along your slit as you wrapped it up with a glistening coat of arousal. You knew he had won the minute he felt just how wet you were for him, but when it should have been upsetting, you just didn’t care. All you needed now was to feel his cock filling you up in any way he wanted, “who made you this wet, darling?” he smiled, pulling at your bottom lip with his teeth.

“Don’t be a brat…” you complained as you could see some mischief in the way he looked at you.

“Just say it” he insisted “I want to hear you say out loud just how wet I make you” this wasn’t a request, but an order. And for some obscure reason you didn’t want to figure out, it somehow turned you on even more.

“You…” you started, biting your lip out of nerves, or out of excitement, you weren’t sure quite yet. “You make me so wet, Tom” you almost moaned, pushing yourself a little harder against his hand when he failed to give you exactly what you needed. His fingers. Buried deep inside of you.

“Hmm” Tom groaned, two of his digits spreading your lips apart at a torturing slow pace, “I like the sound of that…” his knuckles were barely halfway when you buckled your hips off the door, begging for more, “what’s that darling? Tell me what you want…” he was whispering by now, slowly pushing his fingers into your desperate slit, “I want to hear you beg for it…”

You felt him push deeper, curving his fingers into a hook every time he reached your g-spot. By now you were so aroused you just knew it would take you more than a couple stroke to cum heavily into his awaiting palm. You could hear the sloppy sound of your own wetness every time he slammed his slick, extremely skilled digits back into your throbbing pussy. His lips curved into a hasty smile as he could feel you literally drip all over his palm and wrist.

“I want you… I want you so much” you barely managed to whimper as he increased the pace, his wrist working its magic between your thighs.

“Hmm hmm? I’m gonna need you to be more specific baby… what exactly do you want?” his thumb grazed your clit for a brief second and that was enough for you to squeal under his touch, making you clench suddenly around his fingers, “say you want my cock” he almost growled as you felt his hard-on twitch against your thigh, begging to be freed.

“I want your cock” you immediately wimped, your own words sending shivers down your spine as you twitched with anticipation, “I want it so, so bad…”

“Good girl…” he hummed, slowing down the pace so he could add a third finger, stretching you out slightly this time, “d’you think you can take it though? It’s pretty big…” he smiled, twisting his hand just enough so he could dig himself a path.

You simply nodded, unable to speak anymore, but as you were about to beg for more, Tom removed his hand, leaving you frustrated and hornier than ever. His face changed suddenly as he watched you pout, his hand reaching up for your lips.

“What about that pretty mouth, then? You think it may fit?” he smiled, spreading your lips apart so you could taste yourself on his soaked fingers. You immediately obliged, sucking at it, one by one, never keeping your eyes off him. When he shoved three of his digits, watching as your tongue twirled around it, cleaning it off completely, you could definitely tell his eyes had gotten darker, filled with unspeakable thoughts you would be begging to hear soon.

“You’re gonna let me fuck that pretty face?” he added, removing his fingers from your mouth so he could give you a soft, cheeky slap on the cheek. You nodded, obedient as ever. “Say it” he commanded, louder this time, “say you want my cock inside your mouth”.

“I want it… I want your cock inside my mouth” you pouted, only because you knew he loved to see you beg like a spoiled little princess. You’d seen it in his eyes, the way he looked at you every time you tilted your head to fake an innocence that was long gone.

Tom stepped back, walking away slowly as he watched you standing there, flustered, your hair all over the place, panting out of lust and frustration. Pulling his shirt off, you watched as his impressive chest unveiled in front of you. Abs like rocks, a thin strand of hair tracing a path from his navel to his crotch, disappearing under his jeans, his impeccable V-line bringing images you never thought you had within yourself. As he pushed his hair back, daunting you with his a look half way between arrogance and disdain, it felt like all signs of dignity had left your brain as all you could think about was to crawl to the floor and beg for his cock.

“What you’re waiting for then, Darling?” he smiled, unzipping his flies as he watched you walk towards him and get on your knees within seconds.

Your hands pulled at his jeans until it finally pooled around his ankles. Looking up to stare into his eyes, you felt both small and powerful, submissive but in control as you were now responsible for this man pleasure. It was up to you whether he’ll get to cum or not. But as you considered edging him as an option, Tom wasted no time in remembering you who was actually in charge.

“Are you gonna be a good girl for me?” he sighed, grabbing your hair into a fist as his other hand stroked his cock through the cotton fabric of his boxers. You could tell he was just horny as you were as a couple pre-cum had already stained his briefs, turning it into a darker shade of grey.

Again, you nodded, removing his hand so you could replace it with yours, palming him through his briefs as he growled against your touch. He was big. Actually much bigger than you expected but somehow, you were up for a challenge. Tracing the outline of his cock with your fingers tips, you felt him push his hands on the back of your head, forcing you to come closer to his crotch.

“I want to fuck your pretty little mouth so, so bad” he groaned as you unexpectedly ran your tongue all over his stiff through the fabric, feeling it twitch as you palmed his balls. By now he was so hard you could feel the veins tracing a dirty road up to his leaking head as Tom started grinding slowly against your mouth, messing up your hair with his desperate fists.

When you pulled down his boxers, you took a couple seconds to stare at his glorious manhood, hard and pressed against his abdomen where it curved slightly, your mouth watering with a thirst you could have never pictured, especially when standing in Tom Holland’s bedroom. And yet, you couldn’t wait to have this magnificent piece of flesh filling up your mouth.

“Like what you see?” Tom smirked, boasting as ever but immediately squinting his eyes with a deep growl the minute he felt your tongue licking at the base, slowly going up until you finally bobbed on his creaming head.

You had always been good at this, giving head. Not that all of your partners would give you a proper review in the morning, pointing out your highs and lows, but there were just things men couldn’t do, like hiding the fact they were just having the time of their lives. And right now, Tom actually looked like there was nowhere else in the world he would rather be than standing here, with his cock in your mouth.

Twirling your hand at the base where you mouth couldn’t go just yet, you started bobbing up and down his shaft, sucking your cheeks in so your mouth would pop every time his dick came out. You had quickly figured out a couple things about Tom, including the fact he just seemed to love it dirty and noisy. You could actually hear him growl louder, his fist tightening its grip into your hair every time he slipped off your lips, only for him to shove it back a little harder and definitely deeper with each thrust.

“That’s it baby… Just like that… you’re such a good girl…”

You were a good girl, indeed. Always had been. Straight-A’s student from day one, the pride and joy of your parents, spending most of your week-ends doing some volunteer work whenever it was needed while being a caring, polite girl who never did anything wrong. Right choices only.

Or so you thought. Obviously, tonight would be always marked as the only questionable decision on your impeccable path to perfection. But still, as Tom grabbed your face with both hands to push himself deeper and all the way down your throat, making you gasp for air slightly, you had no regrets.

You stayed still for as long as your lungs could handle it, holding on to his firm, muscular buttocks as you swallowed him all. Looking down on you, Tom was left speechless as his cock stretched your cheeks out, his balls resting into your palm as you twitched them slowly, making it jolt with both pain and pleasure. When you felt like you were about to gag, you pushed yourself back, gasping for air as you wiped your mouth with the back of your hand. Your cheeks felt numb and yet it missed the feeling of being stretched out already.

“Hmmm baby look at you…. you think you’re ready for it?”

“Yeah” was all you could blurt out. Yes to anything he wanted. You were prepared. You longed for it.

Looking around as Tom started pumping himself, getting ready for you, spitting into his palm to lube himself up so your lips wouldn’t drag along his shaft too much, you just couldn’t believe you were there, kneeling on the navy carpet of Tom Holland’s bedroom, the epitome of the ultimate frat boy. A huge flag from his favorite sports team was hanging above his bed, his never-ending hats collection sitting on wooden shelves by the wall like it was some kind of “frat boy starter pack” Art exhibition. In the corner of the room, you caught an unexpected glimpse at a guitar. It looked fairly new, but never in a million years would you have pictured Tom playing guitar. On his desk, his laptop was still open on a Spotify tab where you’d probably find a playlist based on some typical white boy rap music but against all odds, the room looked neat compared to what you had in mind.

“You look so beautiful” he sighed, out of nowhere, and to be completely honest, had your mouth not been filled with his dick, you would have probably picked up your jaw from the floor. Taking him all in once more, you just pretended you couldn’t hear, sparing you some awkward misunderstanding. Maybe those words were actually directed to his dick. After all, the boy loved himself just that much.

His hands were all over your face, wiping tears from your eyes every time he hit the back of your throat a little too hard, stroking your cheeks, massaging the back of your neck, roaming through your tangled hair as your kept up with his reckless pace, his hips swinging back and forth while you remained completely still so you could take him like a champ.

“God, I love to see you choke on my cock….” He gritted through his teeth “so…so hot…” you could tell he was getting sloppier now, pumping in and out of your mouth abruptly then a lot more slower as a couple twitch from his cock gave you a hint of his upcoming grand finale.

By now, you were a slippery mess, the taste of pre-cum hitting your throat as you dribbled all over his shaft, obscene sounds of suction coming out of your mouth every time he pushed himself out and back in all over again.

“F----uuuuck….fuck baby I’m gonna come!” he grunted, the sudden high-pitch of his broken voice driving you insane as you pushed yourself up a little so you could open your mouth wider, expecting him to fill it up soon enough. “D’you want me to cum in your mouth? Uh?” again, he gave you a little slap on the cheek, not quite hard enough for you to feel any pain. You nodded, moaning whatever came close to a “yes” as every single inch of your mouth was filled with Tom.

You heard him whimper, twitching a couple times, harder with his thrust as his hand fisted into your hair abruptly throughout his climax. Looking up to see his face, your eyes locked with his as he came all over your tongue, raining down your throat with a couple last, sloppy thrusts.

“Oh fuck! Fuck fuck fuck fuuu------“

Your eyes immediately teared up as you tried your best to swallow every drop of cum he had to give, the corner of your lips dripping like an overflowing sink.

Then there was a complete silence.

As you wiped your mouth off the thick, warmness of his cum, you felt him kneel to your side, then sit. Both of you looked completely exhausted, drained from every ounce of energy you had left.

“Well, that wasn’t half bad… for a little brat” he spoke again, and you just couldn’t believe he had gathered the energy to say this when he could have chosen silence.

Laughing quietly to yourself so you wouldn’t slap him across the face, you decided not to fuel him up and remained quiet instead. His hair had gone curlier than heaver, his glistening red face making him look like any cute boy you could easily fall for.

“I’ve got a feeling we’re gonna see a lot more of you at frat parties now?” he spoke again, and though it truly pissed you off to admit it, you just knew this wasn’t a one-time thing. For all you knew, this, was barely a prequel to a long, bumpy story of a good girl gone bad.

All because of Tom-fucking-Holland.

[quidfree]

can you Please write the scene with bakugou's piercing SGDHEFEH the concept is too funny to me !!!

anon you’re lucky 報復性熬夜 is a concept i am firmly attached to so here i am at 1 am rattling this off instead of getting my beauty sleep. please excuse the standard of writing as a result

by the second day, katsuki is seriously considering agreeing to todoroki’s earlier and ambiguously sincere proposal that they play i spy.

he doesn’t know what it is about this particular job that’s so unbearable. no, scratch that- of course he knows what’s unbearable; it’s sat right next to him on a too-small chair in their too-small room staring impassively out of a too-small window. but he’s been thrown into so much shit with icyhot you’d think he’d developed some kind of immunity by now, the way vaccines microdose you on viruses so you can resist the real thing. call katsuki an antivaxxer, he guesses, because he has overdosed on todoroki ever since he met the asshole and he’s still not ready for how far up the wall he’s driving him when they’re stuck together for two straight days without a breather or any contact with the outside world.

cards on the table: stake-outs aren’t his thing. he does them just fine, fuck you very much, but he doesn’t like ‘em. why would he? they’re some ungodly blend of extremely boring and extremely tense, where nothing happens right up until way too long into it and then everything goes to shit unprompted. it’s rare he ever gets called in on jobs like this- people tend to assume he lacks the temperament for it, for one, and for another he’s too useful to lock away for days on end. it’s only because their suspected target is so insanely volatile and dangerous that it’s the two of them waiting for her to show her ugly face- no one else is even allowed in the perimeter. which is fucking fine, but he just wishes the cops would get their shit together for once and actually have the proof ready by the time they call the pros in so he doesn’t have to wait before he goes in guns blazing. instead they talked some bullshit about how critical of a stage this was and blah blah fifteen years of (obviously mediocre) work had gone into setting this trap, etc etc. the point is that it’s led to katsuki stuck in the world’s most disgusting little apartment, staring out of a splintered window for two-going-on-three days with no one but the world’s most annoying prodigy to keep him company. the place is such a dump they’re sleeping on mats in sleeping bags. it’s like fucking UA summer camp, and at this point he’d take the kidnapping over the waiting.

day one wasn’t so bad, right up until he realized there would be a day two. day two is bad from start to finish. they’re supposed to take turns on watch but there’s fuck all else to do except sit on their phones, and katsuki can only quote tweet so much dumb shit before he gets bored. he can’t talk to anyone outside because of confidentiality bullshit, and there’s no point checking work shit when he can’t do anything from where they are. so it’s either silently watching the warehouse or talking to todoroki, and todoroki is a fucking terrible conversationalist.

the thing with icyhot is this: katsuki doesn’t hate him, okay. like, he hates him, but also not really. they’re, at a push, maybe, sort of, friends. verging on close ones. not that he’d say so, but after the amount of dramatic self-sacrifices and final stands against a joint enemy they’ve endured he can’t really muster the energy to argue otherwise. todoroki’s tolerable, sort of maybe. usually katsuki borderline likes working with him, because if nothing else he’s good at what he does, and they know each other too well to be anything but in sync in the field. if they were doing almost anything else he’d be relieved at the choice of pairing.

they are not, however, doing anything else, and todoroki still fucking sucks at talking like a normal person. when he’d woken katsuki up for his shift of night-watch he’d loomed over him ominously like a fucking ghoul and said, voice belying no humor: “do you think plants can feel pain?”

there’s fucking nothing to talk about. anything interesting is essentially vetoed because it’d inevitably distract them from the whole intent observation thing, and katsuki hates small talk on a normal day but especially when todoroki’s doing his ‘alien attempting earth dialect’ bit and asking him about weather or the tokyo transportation system or whatever. so they just sit in semi-silence and occasionally go on very stupid tangents katsuki is glad no one can witness and remain overall bored out of their fucking skulls.

by day three they’ve already exhausted i spy and also the alphabet game and hangman, and katsuki draws the line at tic-tac-toe. todoroki looks implacable as always but his eye has started twitching a little. katsuki tries to think of literally anything that could plausibly take up their time and not take their eyes off the window, comes up short. twister is not a good idea even ignoring their lack of a board. shop talk is so very tempting, but he’s not losing this villain and wasting two days’ suffering because they get carried away on some long-winded discussion, so that’s not an option either.

“how’s your ear?” todoroki says, and at first katsuki thinks he’s really fucking lost it if he’s started asking after the wellbeing of his individual body parts, but then he remembers the last time they saw each other katsuki was throwing himself into the path of some jackass with a trumpeting quirk who nearly blew out his eardrum, so he guesses half ‘n half’s not entirely insane yet. he shrugs, shifts in his chair.

“fine. couldn’t hear shit from it for like three straight days, though. and my balance was fucked.”

“it hasn’t scarred at all.”

“yeah. lame place for a scar,” katsuki says, flexing his fingers absently. they’re all of them more roughed up than they were at UA, but talent and good healers have kept him mostly intact, give or take a few big nasties like the time he got gutted in first year or his near loss of an eye around graduation. privately he suspects genetics have dealt him a good hand, what with his gene donor’s perfect skin, but then todoroki doesn’t have that excuse and he’s not scarred anywhere ugly except the obvious, though katsuki could point blind to most of the nasties he’s accumulated under his suit.

not that he thinks about what’s under todoroki’s suit. god, he needs to get out of here.

“i don’t know,” todoroki is saying now, thoughtful. “a lot of people have ear-scars, no? from piercings.”

“that’s different,” katsuki says, immediately contrarian, even as he thinks about it. by the warehouse a truck stalls, but then moves on, lessening his momentary excitement. “most people don’t let that shit heal. unless you’re a moron there’s no point getting a hole jabbed through your ear if you’re not sure you want it.”

“would you?” todoroki asks, mildly curious, and taps his ear where katsuki can see him in the window’s reflection. “get a piercing, i mean.”

“what’s it to you?”

todoroki rolls his eyes at him like he’s being pointlessly difficult, which he maybe is a little. “i don’t know. i think it would suit you.”

“yeah?” katsuki sniffs, mollified and trying not to show it. it’s always a mistake to let icyhot know when his obvious ploys are working. “been thinking about it?”

“i can hardly sleep at night for thinking about it,” todoroki deadpans, which makes katsuki scowl and stomp down on the extremely unwarranted flush crawling up his neck in response.

“fuck off. i guess i’d do like one or two.”

“really? you always say no to tattoos.”

“that’s different. i don’t trust some asshole to draw a fucking infinity sign on my knee or whatever. sticking a hole through an ear is hard to fuck up, and you barely register it after. if you get a shitty tattoo you have to think about it all the time.”

“if it’s easy then why don’t you have any?” todoroki asks, but he sounds genuinely curious more than like he’s trying to catch him out, so katsuki thinks about it honestly.

“don’t have the time. ‘s not like i can really afford to pencil in an afternoon to the nearest parlor or whatever just for that.”

“i read you can pierce your ears with a needle.”

“i guess i haven’t fucking thought about it that much, then,” katsuki grumbles, forever irked by todoroki’s smart mouth. problem solver his ass. the guy goes around making problems for everyone.

they sit in silence for a beat, watching the breeze rattle the wooden planks barricading a window opposite them, and then he thinks needle, and does some very quick mental arithmetics to reach the conclusion that todoroki is probably also landing on, judging by the way he blinks when katsuki briefly glances his way. 

he thinks about the job, and how close he’d come to throttling todoroki during i spy, and the great dawning nothingness ahead of them for fuck knows how long still. at the very worst, they have to start moving with a needle in his ear. 

“pass me your medikit.”

todoroki does, but when katsuki unzips the pack he shifts. “it’d be easier if i did it.”

“it’s not rocket science,” katsuki mutters, considering the needle critically before glancing back out of the window. “'s not like i give a shit about precise location.”

“i’m just saying i wouldn’t have to go in blind. and you can keep watch while i do it.”

“or you can keep watch while i do. same shit.”

todoroki only shakes his head, because unlike some people who shall not be named he is not so incredibly psychosexually attached to offering help where it isn’t wanted. “fine.”

katsuki eyes the window, squints at his ear. tissue’s the best bet- he thinks he could probably manage cartilage fine, but on the off chance they have to drop everything and run he doesn’t want to accidentally snap a bone and start the fight inconvenienced. lobe it is.

“wait,” todoroki says, just when he’s focused, and then reaches over without removing his gaze from the window to press two fingers to the needle, tip going blisteringly red-hot before he releases it. cauterised. their kit’s sterilised anyway, but katsuki grunts his begrudging thanks, repositions himself. 

“wait,” todoroki says again, and this time katsuki can’t help but turn to glare at him where he’s still watchfully staring outside.

“fucking what, icyhot?”

“two seconds,” todoroki promises, gaze flickering his way for half a second with something like self-effacing amusement before he turns his eyes dutifully away and reaches his other arm around to pinch his ear, which flares cold so quickly katsuki hisses even as his cheeks heat. fucking weirdo.

“could’ve just said,” he mutters, ignoring his not at all jumpy pulse to refocus on the task at hand as todoroki does that obnoxious lip-twitch thing that means he’s smiling internally. 

physics dictates that he keep his wrist at an angle if he wants the needle to come out right, so he does, braces and jabs. it goes so easy he almost doubts his own success, not even the slightest twinge of pain ensuing. he twists for good measure, removes the needle, watches tiny beads of blood emerge from the piercing. 

well, that was anticlimactic, katsuki thinks, retrieving an anti-bacterial wipe for the needle, and then pauses, staring at the window.

“motherfucker.”

“what?”

“what the fuck am i supposed to put through this?”

todoroki’s mismatched eyes go gratifyingly wide in the window, and for one spectacularly braindead moment two of the world’s most outstanding pro-heroes stare at one another in a shitty broken window with equal amounts of retroactive dismay. 

“um,” todoroki says, or as close to ‘um’ as todoroki will ever say. katsuki wishes dearly he was still of an age where he could throw him through a wall. then his eyes focus elsewhere, sharpening with what could pass as professional focus but is mostly naked relief. “um.”

um in-fucking-deed. by the warehouse, a door has just opened a sliver.

“you owe me a fucking earring,” katsuki declares, but so fast it lacks any aggression, already halfway out the window by the time he finishes speaking, atrophied limbs reviving with an ecstatic chemical burn as fresh air hits their faces. 

god. if he ever gets stuck on stake-out duty again he’s sleeping by himself under a parked car or some shit. 

they make disgustingly quick work of the fight, in the end, days of pent-up frustration and skull-numbing boredom leaving them so bursting with power that it’s almost embarrassing for the villain, but when the first kow-towing police officer reaches them full of praise and suggestion that they handle another job he has queued up they chorus a ‘no’ so violent the guy actually jumps. 

todoroki’s not so bad, katsuki thinks fondly, watching his face slide into frigid blankness with absolutely no idea of how shitless he’s scaring the officers around them. it’s almost enough to make him forget to kick his ass for the enormously shitty banter he’d had to endure vis-a-vis his still-bleeding ear throughout the entire tragically short fight.

almost. not quite. who even knew there was a ‘gay ear’?

[fatesdeepdive]

Entry 53: Home Sweet Abusive Home

I unlocked the Conquest version of My Castle at the end of the last chapter. It’s basically the same; there are different building styles, Lilith attacks instead of heals, the shops sell Nohrian weapons instead of Hoshidan ones, etc. I’m going to be ignoring castle stuff this time and instead analyzing classes.

Class Profile - Nohr Prince/Princess

Corrin and Kana’s default class, wields swords and dragon stones. Balanced with good HP and Strength. The class’s first skill, Nobility, boosts EXP gained. The other skill, Dragon Fang, gives a skill stat determined chance to do a special attack that does 1.5 damage. Dragon Fang also has unique animations that have Corrin attacking with dragon arms. Design wise, the black and white stripes are nice but a bit busy. The cape is nice, but the random slits over the princess version’s thighs are dumb.

Class Profile - Hoshido Noble

Nohr Prince/Princess’s promotion in Birthright and an optional promotion in Revelation. Stat wise, it has better Strength, Skill, and Defense than its Nohrian counterpart, as well as the ability to use staves. It’s first ability, Dragon Ward, gives nearby allies a luck based chance to half damage taken. This fits with its more supportive role. On the other hand, its second ability Hoshidan Unity gives a 10% boost to the activation rate of all skills. Design wise, it’s a silver and gold version of Corrin’s normal design with a few details that make it look more Hoshidan. It’s a great design, assuming you ignore the fact that the female version isn’t wearing pants.

Class Profile - Nohr Noble

The Conquest version of Hoshido Noble. Has slightly better Speed, Magic, and Resistance, as well as the ability to use tomes. Its first skill, Draconic Hex, lowers the stats of enemies after combat. The other skill, Nohrian Trust, is really interesting, allowing Corrin to use the battle skills of supporting allies. I love the black coloring with hints of magenta and the tattered cape, but I have to groan at the cleavage and continued lack of pants for female units. Also something I noticed: Nohr Nobles have a shield on their left shoulder, while Hoshidans have a shield on their right shoulder. It’s a nice little detail.

Also, you know how I stole Rinkah and Sakura’s weapons? The damn game gave them back!

Conquest Chapter 7: A Dragon’s Decree

Moron and his Nohrian siblings return to Castle Krakenburg. Garon praises Xander for invading Hoshido. Xander brings up Moron, who Garon apparently can’t see from ten feet away, and Garon is shocked that Moron isn’t dead. Garon yells at Moron for coming home and accuses him of being a spy. Xander insists Moron is loyal and brings up the fight with Ryoma. Iago believes this to be a ruse, which makes sense. He did that shit in Birthright.

Moron asks about the exploding sword. Garon very convincingly pretends to know nothing. Garon uses the fact that Moron is suspicious of the repeated attempts on his life as evidence that Moron is a traitor and orders Xander to execute him. So glad we came back.

Camilla and Elise beg for mercy and Xander refuses to kill his brother. Iago says that makes Xander a traitor, too. Moron says he’ll kill himself to protect Xander. Garon, overjoyed at the idea of suicide, decides to leave it up to Anankos, the dragon god who was mentioned like once in Birthright. Anankos whispers to Garon to spare Moron, if he passes a test. Moron must suppress a rebellion in the ice tribe to prove his loyalty, without any help from his siblings or the Nohrian military. Something about Moron going off alone to enemy territory to prove his loyalty feels oddly familiar...hope this isn’t secretly a ploy to kill Moron again.

Xander says that taking out an entire army singlehandedly is impossible. Moron agrees to the mission. After Moron leaves, Garon monologues about how Moron is going to lose all hope and wish for death. Real glad we chose to side with Nohr, this truly was the right decision.

Xander, hearing Garon say evil shit out loud, does not decide to stop working for Garon. He says he knows what he has to do, but spoiler alert, it isn’t overthrow his evil father.

Moron goes through the woods of the Forlorn, where you fight Leo in Birthright, with only Lilith accompanying him. Faceless show up and attack, surrounding Moron. Felicia shows up and takes one out with a dagger. Moron points out that he had to destroy Felicia’s friends and family without help, but shrugs it off because they aren’t technically at the Ice Village yet.

This battle is actually pretty good, taking on a ton of enemies with only two units. At the start of turn three, Silas and Elise show up to rescue Corrin. At the start of turn four, Elise’s retainers Arthur and Effie join them. Arthur mentions that he’s late because a bird stole his map and Effie’s late because her armor made her sink into the swamp. Elise mentions that Xander planned out this rescue behind Garon’s back.

Arthur

Arthur is Talitu's rude Wind Mage son...wait, wrong Arthur. Arthur is a Monk who...okay, once more time. Arthur is Elise’s unlucky but heroic Fighter retainer. I love Arthur as a character, this boisterous, cheesy, superhero fighting for justice. His design has this massive lantern jaw and he wears a superhero costume with a cape. His personal skill, Misfortune, makes critical hits more likely on both him and his enemies. This is fitting for the running gag of him being supernaturally unlucky, something reflected in gameplay by him having an abysmal luck stat.

Effie

Elise’s other retainer, a Knight. She seems to be a protective warrior. Honestly, I didn’t pick up too much about her personality because I was distracted by her utterly monstrous strength star. Effie is buff. Her personal skill, Puissance, pairs well with this by boosting her damage if she’s far stronger than an enemy. Personally, I’m not too fond of Effie’s design. Her face feels to girly and looks like she’s wearing make-up, which doesn’t match her personality. The big shoulder pads look weird and the boob plate is eye-roll inducing. At least it’s better than her Heroes design, which is atrocious.

After battle, Felicia volunteers to lead us to her village. The camera pans over to reveal Iago was responsible for the faceless attack. Because he’s an evil asshole who I hate.

Also I grabbed Mozu between chapters.

Support: Corrin/Elise

C: Corrin stumbles upon Elise practicing punching in a field. Elise insists she's just picking flowers because she's sweet. Eventually, Elise admits that she's training so she won't be a burden to the army.

B: Corrin trains Elise to grow stronger. Elise struggles to do push-ups.

A: Elise sobs about being pathetic. Corrin insists that war isn't about fighting, it's about having a pure desire for peace. The amount of people Corrin kills contradicts this.

S: Corrin gives Elise flowers to propose to her. I vomit.

Review: Setting aside the incestuous pedophilia that ends this one, not bad. I think Elise works more than Sakura because at least she’s entertaining when complaining about being a burden.

Support: Arthur/Felicia

C: Felicia tells Arthur she's a bad maid because she's incompetent and clumsy. Arthur relates.

B: Arthur explains that the best way to deal with problems is to be carefree. As he walks, he almost slips on a banana peel (despite the army not storing bananas) and is swarmed by mosquitos (which don't exist in this region).

A: Arthur tells a story of a time he tried to save a drowning person, hit his head, and almost drowned. The person he tried to save was helped by someone else. Arthur explains that he and Felicia shouldn't worry about mishaps.

S: Arthur asks Felicia to meet with him so he can propose. They fall in a pit, Setsuna style, and Felicia accidentally freezes Arthur's fingers so he can't get the ring out of his pocket.

Review: Paring up these absolute messes of people is hilarious.

Support: Mozu/Silas

C: Mozu asks Silas if she should just leave the army and go back home (to the corpse filled ruins of her village I guess) because she isn't very strong. Silas volunteers to train her to be stronger.

B: Mozu says Silas shouldn't waste time training her. Silas tells her her "I'm too weak to be good" mindset is holding her back and that her wasting her potential is a sin against her murdered parents. Goddamn.

A: Mozu, believing she has potential, improves. Silas says he wasn't talented as a kid and only became a good knight because he never gave up. Mozu promises to cook for him.

S: Silas proposes so he can have pie every day. Mozu fantasizes about killing people with S-Rank pair up bonuses.

Review: Not bad, but needed a certain spark to be great. Silas telling Mozu that attitude is everything is interesting, but it kinda falls off towards the end.

Support: Effie/Jakob

C: Jakob bakes a cake for Corrin. Effie eats it. Jakob tries to physically stop her but she shrugs off everything he throws at her.

B: Effie works out by lifting water barrels and tells Jakob that she needs to be strong so she can protect her friends, even if it costs her her own life. Jakob says he doesn't want her to die for him because he'd have to spend the rest of his life feeling guilty. Ugh!

A: Effie says that she can't not protect him because they're friends. Jakob says that's fine, just don't die in the process.

S: Jakob bakes a cake with protein powder instead of flour to propose to Effie. Effie says she isn't going to marry him for his baking skills, but for his good heart.

Review: Pretty good. Effie is amusing throughout this Support and the discussion of dying for friends is nice.

[mccnyoongi]

strawberry kisses ⇢ jjk

⇢ word count: 1k+

⇢ warnings: best friend!jk, roommate!jk, lots of kissing, PINING, u both are in love with each other, not smut!!!!! fluff only, suitable for all ages!!!!, jungkookie good boy :(, this is not proof read in the slightest lol

⇢ request: think about THIS. jungkook is her bff and he buys her a chapstick that tastes like strawberries and after she points it out all he wants to do is to taste it. smut and end it however u want 🥺

⇢ a/n: genuinely started writing this in like... november lol and have tried to finish it roughly a thousand times since but its just NOT happening so take these crumbs ig!!! theres no smut tho even tho there was supposed to be ): 

The potent strawberry flavour is only the second thing Jungkook notices on your lips, right behind just how soft they are- which he guesses he only has himself to thank for being the best roommate ever and putting in the bar minimum and grabbing the first tube of chapstick he can find by the cash register. Later he’ll make a joke about how he’d buy you all the lip balm in the world if it means he gets to taste it the same way, but your lips on his are making his brain short circuit and reboot.

All he can manage to think about in his you addled brain is how happy he is that you sent that last minute text requesting something to help your chapped lips right when he was about to check out, that you commented on how good the flavour of it was after you swiped it across your lips in the most unintentionally teasing way possible, that when he asked to try it, you giggled and shook your head, and how it all lead to shared kisses between two roommates who had been sneaking glances at each other since they had moved in together over five months ago. A classic love story, or something.

He’s almost in mourning when your lips finally part, lungs desperate for air, but he refuses to go far, his nose brushing against yours. He gives a fleeting thought to how you have his heart on a collar and leash with a single kiss- after months of pining and longing, yes, but still. Later, when you’re sleeping in his arms, he might consider it a blow to his supposed manliness, and promptly shrug, considering it a worthy sacrifice if it means he gets to cuddle you to sleep like that every night.

But for now you’re all he can think about, manliness be damned. “How’s it taste?” The words take a while to get through to Jungkook, like they’re walking through quicksand as they try to get from his ears- the ones he covers with his hands whenever you compliment him- to whichever part of the brain is in charge of comprehension. 

He blinks at you once, twice, three times and shakes his head once he realizes you’ve asked him a question, which, by design, requires an answer. “Hm-” He tilts his head from side to side, as if in deep thought, his eyes twinkling with a familiar, playful glint. “Fruity? I guess? Need another taste to be positive though.”

He smirks, all coy and confident, as if he wasn’t red eared and stammering through his syllabells just minutes ago, when you had first offered him a taste of the tangential lip chap- Jungkook has no idea who Burt is, and why he has all these bee’s but he’s very grateful for this strange bearded man and his collection of insects. 

“Fruity, huh? All I can taste on you is cheese-” You wrinkle your nose at his corny ploy, refusing to admit that you find it (him) mind-numbingly endearing, so instead you chastise him. He takes it in stride though, and giggles good-naturedly, his distracting fingers tightening around your waist and he lets his forehead come to rest on your shoulder.

“Don’ be mean,” He whines, and like every other time he breaks out that child-like drawl, you want to crumble into a pile of dust on the warped hardwood of the aged apartment- but you don’t have to coo and awe in silence anymore. No, that kiss broke a dam, an extremely thin dam holding back a rumbling wall of sexual tension and pathetic pining, and you’ll be, well, damned, if you waste anymore time with Jungkook containing and hiding the way he makes your heart melt, all syrupy and sappy. Jungkook has turned your life into strawberry milk… You’ll come up with a better analogy later.

For now everything is strawberry sweet, and that’s enough. It’s always been sweet though, living with Jungkook, but now what was once an aftertaste is overwhelming, all consuming, and all the other words that mean “changes your entire fucking world in a half a second.” Yeah, he was able to do all that with a kiss, he’s truly the golden boy, good at anything he tries. Bastard.

He ‘hmphs’ in mock frustration, the air from his nose and mouth tickling the sensitive skin on your neck- he notices the sensitivity there, how goosebumps raise from one simple action, because of fucking course he noticed, nothing escapes this boys’ watchful eye, does it? He takes advantage of this new piece of knowledge, one that he will treasure for years to come, almost immediately, playful smiles disappearing from both of your faces as he presses soft kisses to your neck, and nuzzling into it equally as softly. “Kookie-”

“Hm?”

“We have things to do you know, places to be,” You wouldn’t be interrupting him if you didn’t have to; every nerve and instinct in your body was screaming at you to drag this boy into your bedroom, the one that’s been adjacent to his own for the past year and a half and make him yours in the most primal of ways. But Jimin and Taehyung, the devilish twosome, who had, unbeknownst to either you or Jungkook, been rooting for the exact thing they were putting to a stop, invited everyone to a night at a video game bar in town. And you hated bailing on people, disappointing them in any way.

“Mm.”

“So we should probably uhm-” You clear your throat in a desperate attempt to gain some self control. From what you can tell, it has little to no effect, your restless heart still playing jump rope in your chest. Double dutch, two times speed. “Get going, like, soon.”

He finally pulls back from your neck, relenting, at least for now. Instead he leans his head back, as if physically pained by the reminder of the plans he had agreed to not even twenty-four hours earlier. What a moron that Jungkook was, he thinks, as if the poor kid had any idea of the dilemma he’d be facing the next day. The sucker had no idea what was coming…

But Jungkook had to deal with reality now, how he didn’t want to stop kissing you, but rather, wanted to kiss and explore every single inch of you until it was burned into his memory. Yeah, he’d make a meal out of that. Amongst other things… “I know, I know,” His nose wrinkles in frustration. “I know. It’s just- just that I finally- finally get to, you know-”

“I know.”

“So, I can’t just go play fucking Street Fighter and drink beers with Jin and just forget all- all of this? Not wanna I don’t know, kiss you and just-”

“Well why wouldn’t you be able to kiss me?” Jungkook’s eyes almost double in size.

“Well they’re all, uhm, there, and there’d be questions, and- I mean not that I care what they think if I were to, ah kiss you…” He takes a breath, cocks his head the way he does whenever he’s thinking way too hard and bites at his lip. “Then I guess- I guess-”

“What do you guess?” You probe, hearing him about to trail off.

“I guess I could kiss you whenever I want to, Kim Seokjin be damned,” He only seems to realize what he’s said after it’s left his mouth. “I mean-like- as long as you want that too, to kiss me, I mean, because I wouldn’t. If you didn’t. If you didn’t want it, I mean.”

“I do. Want it, I mean.” You confirm rather than tease, because your poor boy looks like he’s already three quarters of the way to a heart attack. He breathes a sigh of relief and rolls his eyes at his own ridiculous nature.

“Good,” He nods, a small smile inching it’s way back onto his mouth.

And suddenly you’re excited at the prospect of Jeon Jungkook kissing you between rounds of Street Fighter, high off of kicking Seokjin’s ass and the taste of cheap beer still lingering on his tongue- and despite the bitterness of the alcohol, everything will still be sugary sweet.

[resonanteye]

via https://resonanteye.net/horror-movie-reviews-day-one-the-horror-of-everyday-life/

horror movie reviews: day one, the horror of everyday life

a series of reviews, two each day, of horror movies.

day one, movie one: # alive.

1: half the people are crazed and trying to kill the other half of the people, panic and mass casualties, violent infection, etc – yes, it’s 2020-2021 thank you, continue

2: infected people trying to get in and infect people who are quarantined, aggressive mental illness -yes, yes

3: your neighbors are all worse than you ever knew -yes. yes

4: cops eating each other -please do go on

5: oh no several days how will you ever survive with only ramen

two whole days of lockdown

6: so you’re warned to have plenty of food and water, yet you don’t immediately fill up the bathtub at least, or the sinks. and you don’t go into the zombie neighbor’s abandoned apartment to see if there’s food

7: too much tech, not enough walkie talkies. I doubt.

8: I get it, people expect the end of the world to be like, a switch flipped, but no. this shit draaaags forever

9: the golf club is reminiscent of funny games. maybe an intentional nod to his change in mental state

10: slapstick!

11: finally, foraging.

12: the Mormons are at the door

13: we have skipped two weeks, without water or food?

14: and finally the lights out- wouldn’t that go before the running water?

15: oh the melodrama. don’t be a moron, but this magical dude has been alive a month without water

16: Kim Yu-bin is keeping track of her shit. I bet he gets her killed. nice waterworld callback with watering the plant.

17: of course he’s that stupid, he’s the protagonist and you’re a competent woman in a movie. how else would it justify you endangering yourself for him?

18: oh, wait. he HAS water? from where?

19: finally the tech is worth a damn. and she’s feeding him, which is ok because yes helping each other matters but

20: ok yes the tech is nice, good point, this is a scene from hackers vs zombies. slapstick is fine. zombie big mad. give me back my hand you bastards

21: Jun-u. I had been ignoring his name the entire movie. This is a bad habit of mine with zombie stuff.

22: finally some decent fuckin plot movement. there’s kids, in a good movie he’d have to kill one. instead, a treasure trove of all the survival gear. it’s handy when someone else did the preparation FOR you. I mean damn

23: oooh she’s only alive to help HIM. what a fucking surprise

24: reminds me of the pandemic “share a window” website crossed with a gentle, normal mukbang (not a weird fetish feeder one)

25: the zombies are going hooome. the zombies are going hooooooome

26: ok yes sounds scary, looked scary but it seems like there’s only five of them at her door

27: she’s skilled. of course. melee fighter. I like that this isn’t the dumb-ass slow zombies, nor the superhuman ones. just regular people.

28: another pile up!

29: don’t drink koolaid from strangers, but spam? NO NOT THAT EITHER. of course there will be cannibals in this that aren’t sick, that’s another nice callback (the road) (dead alive). I’m still holding out hope a kid zombie gets killed, although it’s unlikely at this point.

30: holy fuckin generational-divide-monologue for the ages

31: oh damn a gunshot in South Korea.

32: look, Kim, I wasn’t given any backstory for you, but I really want you to outlive “regular dumb guy”. the suicide subplot is going nowhere and we both know it

33: it’s never a good look to be fighting zombie hordes on the stairs. I don’t know why, it just isn’t good. just stay in the damn apartment. please.

34: regular Joe, you are doing the right thing by staying behind, keep that up.

35: FUCK THIS SHITTY APARTMENT

36: finally, machine guns. sorry, I’m American. I’ve been waiting for an hour and a half for logic to set in

37: where are they even going? she’s cooler than him, why isn’t she getting messages? so I guess his Instagram saved her? is that a subversiveon of what I’ve been complaining about? I think it is.

7/10 excellent slapstick, callbacks, just enough humor without ruining the narrative. subversive ending in that he’s only in the movie for the sake of saving her life, and neither died. points deducted for lack of depth to the woman in the film, too much depth for the guy, and for showing us a lack of water then changing that enough to keep someone alive for 20 days. (also, he didn’t even fill up the sink, the hell)

number two, day one: condemned

this movie is about squatting, a lifestyle I’m too familiar with. let’s see how close to the mark it gets. oh, and zombie infection stuff. that too.

1: the supe is always the strangest thing in any building in NYC. always. this isn’t a narrator. this is realism.

2: when will rich kids learn that poverty isn’t an aesthetic? when will something that poor people authentically live through, be safe from commodification and the thievery of the privileged? where does class/cultural appropriation end? why are people using their yacht money on a tiny fuckin house? find out on the next episode of generation x, when we discuss the occup- wait no- this is just a zombie flick. sorry about that

3: I know she’s saying other shit on the phone but all I hear is “the rain was such a blessing”

4: montage is always good with good music over it. going anywhere in the city is basically a montage in reality

5: cigarettes cost 14 bucks in New York holy fuckin shit I’m old

6: ominous: “what could be worse than where you are now”, teens having sex, neon lighting, drainpipe footage, “what difference is a day gonna make”, “I won’t make the same mistake like I did in Vladivostok”

7: this bondage shit on the third floor is giving me a real, serious flashback to a job I did briefly which paid incredibly well. every time these characters show up I have a flashback, every time I watch this.

8: every character in this movie is someone I’ve met. every fuckin one. even cookie. I hate that and love it at the same time. I don’t know if you’ve ever lived in bad beat city but this is accuracy.

9: the glitch hallucination is wonderful. don’t show me people’s bad dreams, though. it’s a waste of film. especially someone’s dream who doesn’t know that squats don’t get the garbage picked up. at least he was gentle about her tourist status. (yes, that was fucking gentle. she’s visiting, but they LIVE there. he’ll show you the life of the mind)

10: the colors in this movie reminds me of Mermaid in a Manhole, an amazing movie itself- this is a compliment

11: yes punk means you puke and say “did you SEE that” yes it does

12: the way sickness spreads in close, unmaintained quarters is accurate too. these old buildings were originally tenements and were notorious for being built in a way that contributed to outbreaks of diseases. ny poverty history

13: the glitch used as stand-in for visual mirage is again amazing and continues to be throughout

14: that walk up all the stairs after a day at work to complain about the horror of everyday life, with a back crack and sore feet.

15: the cops are also accurate

16: the plot takes a nice strong left turn here, and it’s perfection. since the development of the plot cookie was leading us to doesn’t matter to the people in this building, it’s better to truncate it. and then we can get to business.

17: yes. if you die in a squat, you’re getting rolled in a carpet and left blocks away. you’ve got to. nobody’s gonna kill you but nobody’s going to be on the street over your ass either.

18: guitar axe skyline lightning. that may be a summary of the whole movie.

19: absolutely pitch perfect “you ruined new york city” rant for the ages

I used to live there

20: if the building wasn’t shit, this would be a nice Shining callback

21: FAWKKING

22: this movie just will not let you have any expected outcome. it’s brilliant.

23: I’ve lived in a brownstone that had a cellar which connected to every building on the block and beyond. that was in Philly, but the construction of this landscape is perfect.

full disclosure- I own this DVD and have watched it a lot. it’s one of my favorite movies, structurally and visually, and I think it’s one of the best horror movies made this decade.

[turqrambles]

The Five Worst Things About Digimon World

I did it.

It took 20 years but I did it.

I finally beat Digimon World for the Playstation 1, a game that has haunted me for most of my lifetime, and I did it with a Phoenixmon, the reason why I use “Turquoisephoenix” as a handle!

This is who I used to beat the game, named after an obscure Ratchet and Clank character because that’s just how I roll. The final boss battle involved a lot of Prominence Beam spamming and med recovery floppy spamming but I did it fair and square. 

Before I get into what I thought about this game as a whole - and I do have a lot of good things to say about this game since I obviously enjoyed it enough to get to the end - I gotta talk about my least favorite things about this game. In a concise, Buzzfeed-esque list because I like writing things in easy to digest chunks.

Because, like most charming yet difficult games of the late 90′s, this game is very flawed and the flaws are pretty annoying!

1. Care Mistakes

The three emojis - Smile, Cool, and Poop.

Okay. This one - my least favorite part in the game - is going to take a bit of explanation.

First off, I don’t actually hate care mistakes existing as a mechanic. I think it’s a cute, virtual pet-y way to add a different wrinkle to evolution requirements, even if I think it’s a bit counter-intuitive to have to suddenly abuse my little companion once they reach Champion just because I want them to evolve into a floating metallic ball with a chainsaw.

My problem with care mistakes is that there’s literally no way of telling many care mistakes you have on your given Digimon. 

Literally everything else in this game is concisely recorded and easily displayed on your Digimon’s stats screen. You can see how much your Digimon weighs. You can see their Happiness, their Discipline. How much Life they have left. Their Age. Even how many poops they need to make before they digivolve into a sentient pile of feces.

But Care Mistakes? Naaaaw, you just gotta remember every single thing that you did to your Digimon from the moment it evolves in your fallible human brain. What’s that? A good portion of this game involves grinding in the Green Gym and it’s really easy to make a Care Mistake there without knowing you did so because you mashed A too fast like the stat-grinding numskull that you are? Well, that’s just too fucking bad for you, then! Enjoy not getting some of the best evolutions, you piece of shit. You stooge. You moron!

This game, multiple times: You know who I hate? The player.

Care Mistakes are such an invisible mechanic that, to this day, there are many guides with misleading info about what counts as a Care Mistake and what doesn’t, which...really stinks for a game such as this where you will be using a guide pretty extensively to get the Digimon you deserve. And you know why that is? Because we don’t get any indication as to whether or not some random event counts against you when raising your Digimon.

And honestly, having one of your main mechanics of the game being entirely invisible to the player is a terrible idea. Just put a little number in my profile that says “Care Mistakes: 0″ in there. Let me know this information without guessing.

2. The Glitches

Pictured: Something that will CRASH YOUR GAME if you try it on a physical copy.

Let me start with a disclaimer that most of the glitches I’m going to complain about were added into the game when Digimon World was localized and therefore aren’t the original intent of the developers. There are certain versions of Digimon World that are more stable than others (The English PAL version is the best version to play because of this) and, if you play this game via “certain methods”, there are patches to circumvent some of the bigger problems.

That being said! Boy! Isn’t it ironic that a game where I’m exploring the digital world is plagued with so many annoying, game-ruining glitches? Especially if I’m playing this game on a physical 20-year old copy like a dunce?

“Ohhhh...so Agumon thinks that they can block the Digimon game with their big fat Digimon-blocking head, do they?!”

The NTSC version of this game has a jukebox that will crash the game if you try to use it, keeping you from ever using a bonus feature meant to be a fun little reward for completing a certain dungeon, but that’s not as heinous as the Spanish, French, German, and Italian PAL versions of this game locking a good portion of the game to players because they forgot to make the Agumon in front of Ogremon’s Fortress an object you can interact with.

So that means, if you happened to get this game in one of four lucky countries, you can’t complete the Ogremon mission, you can’t recruit Whamon, you can’t recruit Shellmon, you can’t recruit anything tied to Shellmon’s bulletin board (which means no Vademon or Skullgreymon), and you can’t go to Factorial Town and recruit Giromon, Andromon, or Numemon. Ogremon is a key part of the Digimon World storyline and causes so many different things in the game to change, meaning that it should’ve been imperative to make sure this part of the game works!

But no. Instead this one little bastard Agumon keeps most players from finishing the game, because it starves players of those PAL regions of a bunch of Prosperity points, the main source of progression in this game. That means that Mt. Infinity and the final boss is just that much harder to unlock. It’s doable, but it’s more grueling process.

This really is a problem with the translators and really highlights a lack of general care with testing this game. Why this game was allowed to be shipped with such glaring bugs is anyone’s guess, especially in an era where you couldn’t release any patches over the Internet to fix retail versions.

3. The Monochromon’s Shop Minigame

Ohhhh....this one was so close to getting the top spot. When I first wrote this draft, this was the top spot.

Monochromon was only spared of my true ire on account of the fact that it really only exists for one part of the game (rather than being a constant problem like the Care Mistakes and the Glitches are) and you can easily cheese it by sleeping in front of the store so that you can save scum your way to victory. Like a true Digital Champion!

At one point in the game, you gotta help a entrepreneur dinosaur rhino man make a profit, because he was stupid and put his convenience store in the middle of a giant canyon next to a gaping chasm. So you play a little game of haggling, where you try to ruthlessly oversell a bunch of random items to customers until you make enough of a profit that this talking dinosaur tells you that you passed his secret test of character, abandons his store, and moves into File City.

There’s just one problem with this minigame - everything is decided by RNG.

“Get the hell out of my shop”

This minigame hates you. It wants nothing but to see you fail and to waste your time. The difference in profit margins of the three items (Meat sells for 50g, Portable Potties sell for 300g, and Medicine sells for 1000g) are so stark that, if you get too many customers asking for Meat, you might as well just reset the game and start over because it will be literally impossible to meet the requirement even if you busted the customer’s proverbial balls and squeezed every last bit out of their cutesy penguin faces.

Oh! It’s also RNG as to whether or not your customers will take your asking price or storm out of the store without buying anything!

It’s all the fun of working at retail! In a video game!

4. Three on One Battles

What you see before you is a battle system that is really fun when it’s one vs. one, manageable at two vs. one, and downright unbearable at three vs. one.

The battle system works for the most part. You don’t have full control of your Digimon (and yes, you only have one Digimon with you at one time, so you can never stack the numbers in your favor) so you shout commands at it, commands that the Digimon’s AI are pretty good at following, and hope for the best as you chuck healing items at it.

It’s not the best battle system, but it’s fun. And it definitely reinforces the whole “this is a pet you’re taking care of with its own thoughts and feelings” atmosphere that this game is going for.

However, nothing can protect your Digimon from enemy fire concentrated on them, especially if you did the thing that most players do and equipped your Digimon with the most powerful attacks that also happen to have slower cast times than the faster, weaker attacks.

What then happens is your Digimon’s Health is slowly whittled away as you are powerless to stop it, watching as your digital friend is straight up bullied by enemy Digimon as they keep falling to the ground over and over and over and over again.

The one saving grace is that Friendly Fire exists in this game so that oftentimes the enemy Digimon will damage each other in their mad dash to ruin your day, but that seems more like a band-aid than an actual fix to this system.

5. Fishing Seadramon

“Hi, kid. Let me guess - you also thought you had to talk to the Tankmon in Factorial Town in order to unlock me, huh.”

This one is a lot less of a pain than the other four and it’s only a little annoying but boy...getting Seadramon kinda sucks in this game.

It took me almost a goddamn hour to catch Seadramon. One hour of gameplay devoted to catching one fish. Just like real fishing!

I will say, besides Seadramon, the fishing minigame in this game is pretty competent. It’s just that Seadramon is very elusive, showing up at only two hours in a 24 hour day, and is a very finicky fish that won’t take your bait even if you literally placed it in front of his dumb fish face.

Don’t be fooled by this screenshot. The heart just means you have the right bait. The heart means that you didn’t actually get within range of hooking him.

IT’S RIGHT IN FRONT OF YOU!!!

Seadramon is also subject to almost as many gaming myths as the Care Mistakes are, due to how elusive he is, but that’s less to do with poor communication (the game does at least explain multiple times in multiple places how to find him) and more to do with the fact that catching him is just such a goddamn chore to do that players of this game always assume they’re doing something wrong.

When in reality, Seadramon is just a picky little bitch.

Next time I discuss Digimon World, I’ll talk about things I liked, don’t worry. I just had to get all of this negativity out before discussing the full game proper.

[savysavannah]

Challenge 1 part 2

The fact that I /haven’t/ partied and just listed other strategies that /weren’t/ partying proves that I’m going to be unreliable?

No. What I'm saying is that you haven't been out of school for long enough to know if you're going to lean on that again and you aren't at the same level of pressure, and your uncertainty over what you're going to do, since I'll bring up your word choice of "perhaps" makes me nervous about your future ability to succeed.

*flatly* The “perhaps” was sarcastic, pointing out things I’d already said.

You shouldnt use sarcasm during a serious discussion, it's confusing. *huffs and goes to get her heels*

*he sighs through his nose* Apologies. *he watches her for a moment, then asks with a message noted tone* Let me walk you back to the palace?

*less annoyed

No thanks. I am quite capable of walking on my own and you've got baskets to attend to.

I was heading in soon anyway. *he shrugs*

*sucks in a breathe because it means she cant run away on her own now and slips on her shoes then fixes her pants* Alright since you're walking the same way anyways.

*he nods, waiting for her to have her shoes on before starting to walk, making sure to walk at a pace she can keep up with*

*she looks at the ground. Shes embarassed and mad and doesn't quite know what to say*

*after a moment savy finally breaks the silence and stops walking to face him* Look- I'm sorry I was harsh and critical of you. *pauses* It wasn't fair of me to do. I was curious and am a good people reader so I asked, work makes me critical of what people say so I had to attack and digest what you said. It was impolite and rude of me to do and I'm sorry for any offense I've given.

It’s okay. *he gives her a small smile, then looks away* I get it. I’d be doubtful of my abilities too, if I saw what everyone else in this country sees, through the media. But... knowing that the fate of an entire nation, and millions of lives, is going to lie in your hands in the near future is terrifying, and I just wanted to... I don’t know, be a teenager for a few years. *he shrugs* I knew it would be over quickly, anyway.

You mentioned it earlier and I thought it made sense. When you said it was just a lot of pressure from a young age, it kinda clicked to me that you were once- and still kind of are, also a kid. We get terrified too, you're scared to have our nation and lives in your hands, but we're equally scared of them being out of our control. It's easy for us to turn that fear into anger and hypercritisim of a kid. That isn't right. *pauses for a moment* I'm sorry for that too.

*he shakes his head, giving her a small smile* You don’t have to apologize for that. It’s not like my actions or the national response to them are your fault.

No but being part of that response is something I can apologize for. I have had many discussions over the bleakness of our future under your reign, and talking about someone behind their back, even a public figure, still warrents an apology.

*he chuckles a little wryly, shaking his head again* People should be talking about politics, and keeping themselves informed on their leaders and their decisions, and forming their own opinions. And if it’s any consolation, being in the public eye is something I’m used to dealing with, at this point. It’s just another part of life *he shrugs*

*chuckles* and you haven't punched someone yet as far as I know. *blushes* not that I punched someone. *sighs because now he needs context* I was at a sushi bar when the selected were announced with my brothers, long story short I got surprised that I was in and cried outside the sushi place, passerbyer had a camera and wouldn't leave me alone. My older brother Danny punched him. So at in a positive light you've managed it better than that.

*he chuckles* I thought you meant that you had punched someone, and I was almost going to ask if the poor guy had lived to tell the tale

*chuckles too* No I have punched someone before though. *thinks* two people before. One was when I- three people actually. *think* that's really it though. But anyways, One was when I was in like elementary school. Bully on the playground. Another was in high school, asshole creep. Third was in undergrad, another asshole creep. And those are excluding my brothers because who knows how many times I've had to square up with them.

*he grins a little wider at that* How many brothers do you have?

Ughs three. And get this their names are Danny, Daniel, and Dan. My fathers name is Daniel. Anyways, they're all older than me so they've always done stupid shit in the name of "protecting me" such as threatening exs and any guy who I've been friends with.

*he chuckles a little at that, and his eyes widen a little when she mentions the names* Should i be nervous, then? Am I going to wake up one day during the selection and find them all lined up in my doorway?

Oh it's very possible. Though, Danny seemed hopeful that this would be something good for me so he may be able to hold them back. He's probably the most responsible of us, also the oldest.

*he raises his eyebrows* Ah, I see. Are you all in law too?

*laughs* No the other two are total morons. My dad runs a sports analytics company, they all work for the company. I was planning on it too before law. Not entirely sure what they do in it though. Danny's much higher up though and seems to actually like the work. Dan just likes the benefits finacial and other. Daniel just kinda does it because he had family to get in.

*he smiles a little* Hey, sports analytics is pretty cool. The way the statistics work, to calculate which team is likely to win the next year, and all that. *he waves a hand through the air* I always thought it was interesting.

I do not at all. I think it's really boring and a waste of time but if they're happy being nerds they can do that. My dad meet my mom through it though, and Dan his wife so I guess it's good for that though.

*he laughs a little, joking* Dang, maybe I should just call off the selection, and go take a summer internship in sports analytics instead

Apperantly it's really easy, just gotta flirt a little with one of the cheerleaders at a game, boom you're in wife found.

*he raises his brows* Really? That simple? *he shakes his head, still joking* We’ve been going about this all wrong for generations now

Absolutely! Though then the choices would be limited to twos, but nonetheless, would probably be faster

*he frowns* That would leave too many incredibly smart and capable women out of the mix, which isn’t fair. *joking* I guess that’s why we have a selection instead of just going into sports analytics, after all

Mhm. The one and only reason for it.

You know, I did mention when I proposed the idea of a selection that I thought it would be good to get the perspectives of people from different walks of life all over the country. *he shrugs*

Its a good reason. Other perspectives can be very inspiring, I was even just speaking with another selected the otherday and got a new idea for a program within the ICLU. Easy inspiration in just speaking with others

*he has a small smile* I’m glad you think so.

*nods* I don't think I said thank you. Thank you for the help with my heel. I'm somehow still not the best at them despite having worn them for years, just don't have the instinct to not walk in gravel while wearing them. *chuckles* here's hoping survival of the fittess doesn't knock me down.

*he chuckles and shakes his head* Anytime *they’re getting closer to the palace now, and once they get there, he holds the door open for her, joking* Maybe next time I’ll even sweep you off your feet

*kinda snorts then blushes FURIOUSLY becauze she snorted* Thank you for the door, the pick up line not so much.

*he pretends to be offended* But the manners and the jokes are a package deal.

*does a joking dramatic cringe* Oof, you may have more problems finding a wife than previosuly thought then.

*he laughs* I sure hope not. *he stops, inclining his head towards a hallway to the side* Ive got to head this way, but it was great seeing you, savannah

*curtseys* A pleasure, *pauses* Damian.

*he smiles* Likewise. *he takes a few steps backwards down the hallway, then turns around and starts walking away*

*nods and goes the other way*

[bobasheebaby]

125 Golden Girls Prompts

This time I have some hilarious prompts from some hilarious women. These help keep me sane, send in prompts or request a specific show. Long as hell, breaking at 15.

1 “Go to sleep, sweetheart. Pray for brains.” – Dorothy

2 “Crying is for plain women. Pretty women go shopping.” -Blanche

3 “They were all buying T-shirts, you know, the ones that say, ‘Today is the first day of the end of your life.’” — Dorothy

4 “People waste their time pondering whether a glass is half empty or half full. Me, I just drink whatever’s in the glass.” – Sophia

5 “Nobody ever believes me when I’m telling the truth. I guess it’s the curse of being a devastatingly beautiful woman.” – Blanche

6 “No! No, I will not have a nice day!” -Dorothy

7 “Excuse me NAME, have I given any indication at all that I care?” – Sophia

8 “No one in my family has ever seen a psychiatrist ... except of course, when they were institutionalized!” – Blanche

9 “Isn’t it amazing how I can feel so bad, and still look so good?” -Blanche

10 “Condoms, NAME! Condoms, condoms, condoms!” – Dorothy

11 “It’s like life is a giant weenie roast, and I’m the biggest weenie!” – Rose

12 “He’s/She’s really a very sweet man/woman. He/She just doesn’t like to show it.” — Dorothy

13 “I eat raw cookie dough. And occasionally, I run through the sprinklers and don’t wear a bathing cap. And at Christmas, I’ve been known to put away more than one eggnog.” – Rose

14 “I could get herpes listening to this story!” – Dorothy

15 “I’ve been having a good time, and there wasn’t even a man/woman in the room.” -Blanche

16 “Why don’t I just wear a sign, ‘too ugly to live’?” – Dorothy

17 “I though I was gonna die. I swear I have never felt such agony. I saw my entire life flash before my eyes and I thought, ‘What a shame if I die now, I’m too young…and I’m wearing the wrong underwear.’” — Blanche

18 “You’ll have to excuse NAME. HE/She suffered a slight stroke a few years ago which rendered him/her totally annoying.” – Dorothy

19 “Eat dirt and die, trash.” – Blanche

20 “[to NAME] You’re a furry little gnome and we feed you too much.” – Dorothy

21 When I was a child, I used to get overexcited and pet the cat too much.” – Rose

22 “I feel that you have backed me into a corner, and when I am backed into a corner, I come out fightin’ like a wildcat. Unless I’ve had too much to drink, in which case I slide down the wall and make mad passionate love on the carpet.” – Blanche

23 “NAME, you’re one chromosome away from being a potato.” – Dorothy

24 “If this sauce was a person, I’d get naked and make love to it.” – Sophia

25 “I hate to admit it but he/she melts my Haagen-Dazs.” – Rose

26 “Want a glass of water to wash down your foot?” – Sophia

27 “Like I’m the only person who ever mixed a margarita in a sailor’s mouth?” – Blanche

28 “I feel like crawling under the covers and eating a box of Velveeta.” – Rose

29 “When I say jump, you say ‘on who?'” – Blanche

30 “I’m jumpier than a virgin at a prison rodeo.” – Blanche

31 “How come whenever my ship comes in it’s leaking?” – Dorothy

32 “Tell me the truth: do these glasses make me look stupid?” – Rose

33 “If I had that money I could have moved into a swinging condo instead of living with—I better not say anything until I’ve had my coffee [sips coffee]—a slut and a moron!” – Dorothy

34 “Go hug a landmine!” – Dorothy

35 “Fasten your seatbelt, slut puppy. This ain’t gonna be no cakewalk!” – Sophia

36 “NAME? Hubba hubba zing zing, baby, he’s /she’s got everything.” – Rose

37 “I could vomit just looking at you!” – Dorothy

38 “There is a fine line between having a good time and being a wanton slut. I know. My toe has been on that line.” – Blanche

39 “It’s like you people don’t pay any attention to me whatsoever.” – Rose

40 “Why do blessings wear disguises? If I were a blessing, I’d run around naked.” – Sophia

41 “I hate Jell-O. If God wanted peaches suspended in midair, he would have filled them with helium.” – Sophia

42 “Oh, don’t give up, NAME. If the ancient Egyptians could move 20-ton stone blocks to build the pyramids, we can move a toilet.” – Rose

43 “NAME, honey… have you been washing the fruit off before you eat it?” – Dorothy

44 “Tell me, is it possible to love two men/women/people at the same time.” “Set the scene, have we been drinking?” — Rose & Blanche

45 “NAME, what are you listening to?” “A relaxation tape. The rain is supposed to relax me.” “Is it working?” “Not really. I keep worrying that I left my car windows down.” — Dorothy & Rose

46 “NAME, I have a feeling you’re lying.” “NAME, be positive.” “Okay, I’m positive you’re lying.” — Dorothy & Rose

47 “You are undoubtedly the meanest, sickest person I’ve ever met! Not to mention the most unattractive.” — Blanche

48 “Where are you going?” “To either get ice cream or commit a felony. I’ll decide in the car.” — Rose & Dorothy

49 “Let me tell you a story. Picture it, PLACE …” —Sophia

50 “NAME, wake up. My husband/wife/partner will be home any minute.” — Dorothy

51 “I’m NAME and I know it isn’t pertinent at the moment, but I’m double jointed.” — Blanche

52 “He’s/She's really a very sweet man/woman. He/She just doesn't like to show it.” — Dorothy

53 “You know, sometimes when people are under pressure, they sleep to escape.” — Rose

54 “Have you noticed that NAME has been acting peculiar?” “Yes, NAME, from the first day that I met him/her!” — Blanche & Dorothy

55 “Oh, NAME, how do you feel about performing in front of a video camera?” “I think it's okay as long as you've already had at least three dates.” — Rose & Blanche

56 “I never grew a beard!” “You never grew brains, either!” — Rose & Sophia

57 “It wasn't a rat! It was a cute little mouse.” “NAME, it doesn't wear white gloves and work at Disneyland! We're talking about a rodent!” — Rose & Dorothy

58 “My whole life is an open book.” “Your whole life is an open shirt/blouse!” — Blanche & Sophia

59 “Oh, you don't have to worry about me, honey. I never get sick. I take very good care of myself. I treat my body like a temple.” “Yeah, open to everyone, day or night.” — Blanche & Sophia

60 “Oh, NAME. Can I make a little suggestion when you go for your makeover?” “Sure. What is it?” “Don't expect a miracle.” — Sophia & Dorothy

61 “Why am I even discussing this with you?” “Beats the hell out of me!” — Dorothy & Sophia

62 “Well, what do you know? NAME has a past!” “That's right! But unlike yours, I didn't need penicillin to get through it.” — Blanche & Sophia

63 “I'm going to have to meet men/women lying down.” “I thought you did.” — Blanche & Sophia

64 “Here we are in the middle of a crisis and there’s no cheesecake.” — Blanche

65 “Can I ask a dumb question?” “Better than anyone I know.” — Rose & Dorothy

66 “NAME, ‘disdam’ is not a word. You made it up.” “It’s a word.” “Fine. Use it in a sentence.” “You’re no good at disdam game.” — Dorothy & Sophia

67 “He’s/She’s undressing me with his/her eyes.” “Do you wanna move tables?” “Not yet, he’s/she’s only half done.” — Blanche & Rose

68 “You know, there is nothing worse than being wide awake and scared and by yourself!” “Oh yea there is: being wide awake and scared and by yourself without a double-fudge chocolate cheesecake in the freezer.” — Dorothy & Rose

69 “You know what would go so good on this cheesecake is those chocolate sprinkles.” “We finished those an hour ago.” “We could crush some Oreos on top.” “We ran out of those two hours ago.” “How about some whipped cream?” “Mmm!” — Dorothy & Rose

70 “You bought a chocolate cheesecake?” “Just for an emergency.” — Dorothy & Rose

71 “I just need some cucumbers to put on my eyes. It’s very good. It reduces puffiness.” “Does it work on thighs?” — Blanche & Rose

72 “I have a date.” “With a man/woman?” “No, NAME. With a Venus fly trap.” — Dorothy & Blanche

73 “Do you know what your trouble is?” “Of course not.” — Dorothy & Blanche

74 “I think there’s a connection between your brain and wallpaper paste.” — Sophia

75 ““Forgive me, NAME, but I haven’t had sex in AMOUNT OF TIME and it’s starting to get on my nerves.” – Sophia

76 “Do you know what I hate doing most after a big party?” “Trying to find your underwear in the big pile?” — Blanche & Rose

77 “I've never been so humiliated in my life.” “What about the time you lost the key to your handcuffs and had to go with that guy/girl on his/her mail route?” — Blanche & Dorothy

78 “You are not gonna believe this. NAME, just called me.” “I didn't think the two of you were speaking.” “Well, we're not.” “Then how'd you know it was him/her on the other end of the line?” “NAME, you're bringing down the curve for the whole country.” — Blanche, Dorothy & Rose

79 “Oh, my goodness. Look what I found. Double-fudge cookies. I thought we agreed not to keep cookies in the house.” “Right, after this last box.” “You're not going to eat them, are you?” “No, NAME. We're going to go to some dumb country and try to use them as money.” — Rose, Blanche & Dorothy

80 “I can't believe you said that! Oh, if I weren't a lady I'd deck you.” “You try and I'll have you on your back so fast you'll think you're out on a date.” — Blanche & Dorothy

81 [NAME running after a dog] “Ha! Would you look at that: man's best friend, chasing man's best friend!” — Dorothy

82 “I won't stand for this!“[gets up and starts to walk out] “Take it, NAME!” “But I bet you'll lie down for it.” — Blanche, Sophia & Dorothy

83 “NAME, you should make us eat dirt, make us grovel, give us the silent treatment...” “NAME, if you give us the silent treatment, I will eat dirt.” — Rose & Dorothy

84 “Cooking, NAME?” “No, NAME, I'm developing pictures for the Magellan Space Program.” — Rose & Dorothy

85 “Do we have any orange juice left?” [person two pours the rest in their glass] “No, we’re all out.” — Rose & Dorothy

86 “Go hug a landmine.” — Dorothy

87 “Now, what’s wrong?” “I lost it, NAME!” “You never had it, NAME.” — Dorothy & Stanley

88 “You knew I wanted to spend tonight alone.” — Rose

89 “Darn it. I gotta kiss somebody at midnight.” — Blanche

90 “Pizza, dammit! Get pizza!” — Dorothy

91 “What the hell goes on at night in this house?!” — Dorothy

92 “Just drives you nuts, doesn’t it, NAME?” — Rose

93 “Can you believe that backstabbing slut?” — Rose

94 “I’m here if you wanna pick my brain.” “NAME, I think we should leave it alone and let it heal.” — Rose & Dorothy

95 “And the world heaves a collective sigh of relief.” — Sophia

96 "Must you always be so cheerful, you empty headed Mary Poppins knockoff?'—Blanche

97 "What? Are you out of what is left of your mind?!"—Blanche

98 “All I do is listen to your sexual problems. How about my sexual problems?” — Sophia

99 “Blow it out your ditty bag.” — Sophia

100 “Your heart's in the right place, but I don't know where the hell your brain is." — Sophia

101 “Think about it. You live alone. No one likes you." — Sophia

102 “You're moving. Too bad. This would be touching if I liked you more." — Sophia

103 “Go ahead. Stand up and say it. My name is NAME, and I am an idiot." — Sophia

104 “You're here because the rhythm method was very popular in the [insert decade of birth]." — Sophia

105 “Get to the part where they steal the brain out of the dead body and sew it into your head." — Sophia

106 "Exactly how close to the television are you sitting when you're watching TV SHOW.” — Sophia

107 “Boom! You've got a social life." — Sophia

108 “You drink out of a brown paper bag and suddenly everybody’s your friend.” — Sophia

109 “Remember NAME, don’t do anything I wouldn’t do.” “I think I crossed that line when I got a date!” — Dorothy & Sophia

110 “If you can’t count on family, who the hell can you count on?” — Sophia

111 “In this life, that’s all we have, is hope.” — Sophia

112 “Here’s a newsflash, witches can fly.” — Sophia

113 “It’s great bringing two idiots closer together.” — Sophia

114 “NAME, a man/woman called for you while you were out.” “Finally, now we can break out that bottle of champagne we’ve been saving.” — Rose & Sophia

115 “Gee, with only three hours sleep, I can be just as bitchy as you.” — Rose

116 “Gee, Sophia! You’re awfully cranky today.” — Rose

117 “The doctor says it’s the first time he’s ever been called because a baby was sleeping in the day. And then I think he called me an idiot.” — Rose

118 [astonished]  “You paying for something?” “What are you saying, I'm cheap?” “Well, of course he’s/she's saying you're cheap. You're the only man I know who owns a time-share dog!” — Rose, Stanley & Dorothy

119 “Hey, what is this? You're talking about me like I'm an animal. [sniffing NAME] You've been with a man, haven't you?” — Sophia

120 “I do love the rain so. It reminds me of my first kiss.” “Ah, your first kiss was in the rain?” “No, it was in the shower.” — Blanche & Dorothy

121 “You know, I've been thinking ...” “Oh, that would explain the beads of sweat.” — Rose & Blanche

122 “God, I hate morning people.” — Blanche

123 “He’s/She’s a lewd, horny, oversexed beast with five hands.” “You don’t have to build him/her up to me, honey. I like him/her just fine already.” — Rose & Blanche

124 “You ... you ... you rude person!” “Go easy on him/her, NAME.” — Rose & Dorothy

125 “This would be touching if I liked you more.” — Sophia

[mihawque]

The Falcon and the Lion Chapter 3: Fighting a red rag

[read on AO3]

[chapter 1] [previous chapter]

After the execution, Mihawk kept an eye on Shanks. The Grand Line was steadily filling with more and more pirates, most of which dreamed of finding the One Piece. If Mihawk thought them worth his time, their sailing trip was cut short in very much the same way they lost the duel: quickly, with great pain and drowning in blood. Rarely, the swordsmen of the crew were impressive in their skill but when they were, Mihawk enjoyed the fight even more so, or as long as it lasted.

After one year, there had still not been any news from Shanks. Neither from the Grand Line, of which he was conspicuously missing, nor from the East Blue. It was as if he had dropped off the face of the Earth.

After one year, Mihawk decided to go looking for him. When he passed Reverse Mountain, Crocus did not have any news from the boy either. Ever since Roger’s execution, he had yet to return to the pirate’s graveyard. Mihawk promised to keep the doctor up to date if he happened to find his former cabin boy.

In the end, it was like a Déjà Vu. Shanks was sprawled out in a back alley, completely drunk, and barely able to stand. This time, he did not have a room booked in advance and Mihawk had no desire to take him on his small ship to sleep off his intoxication and vomit all over his belongings in the process, so he dragged him to the edge of a nearby forest, far away enough from the port town not to be disturbed, lit a fire, and decided to keep watch and get some sense into him by whatever means necessary come morning.

When he finally woke up, Shanks was less confused about laying on the bare ground than Mihawk had expected. This was unfortunate proof to how dire the situation seemed to be. Maybe it would be better if he did not tell Crocus about the development or rather lack thereof his former protégé and friend had undergone, promises be damned.

“Ah, Hawkeye! Good to see you again! How’s Rayleigh?”

“What the fuck are you doing?”, Mihawk asked, without reacting to the question. He had just spent the entire night awake, guarding this idiot who did not know the own limits of his body and could have died as an unnamed, miserable moron by suffocating in his own sick and he wasn’t in the mood to play any games.

“What?” Shanks looked confused and pushed himself up onto his elbows; instantly, the blood drained from his face and he let himself fall back onto the ground. “Ugh. Nope. Shouldn’t have done that.” The next words were not in Grandish nor any of the dialects or languages Mihawk could understand, but from the intensity and frustration with which Shanks said them, he could only guess they were swears.

Mihawk did not have time nor patience for the Red Hair to recover from his hangover. Instead, he crouched down next to him and grabbed him by his shirt, lifting his head a few centimetres. Immediately, the nigh unbearable stench of stale alcohol his him with Shanks’s breath. He barely kept his hold instead of stepping back to avoid it.

“How stupid are you?”

“What?”

“How can you waste your life like this? Roger sacrificed himself to save the crew, to give you a legacy, and I find you living like a gutter rat. You’re the shame of any pirate.”

Shanks looked at him with wide eyes. He had gone completely slack in his grip, no muscle tension keeping him upright, as if all the fight had left him. As he looked down on him, Mihawk wondered what had made him so interesting when they had first met, what had made him consider fighting him one day. Now all he was saying was someone who had given up on life and didn’t know what to do with the time he had been given.

“You’re a disgrace,” he spat, and with more force than necessary, shoved Shanks back onto the ground. His clothes were already dirty enough, there wasn’t any more damage he could cause.

“If we meet again like this, don’t expect any manners from me,” Mihawk said over his shoulder, and walked back to his boat.

When he passed Reverse Mountain to get back to the Grand Line, Mihawk told Crocus a tamed down version of his encounter with Shanks. The visit was quick and Mihawk took a nap right after to catch up on the sleep he’d missed while keeping watch. Hopefully, this was the last time he’d have had to deal with Shanks’s drunken antics.

One year after his last visit, Mihawk found himself making the same trip from Paradise to the East Blue all over again. Just like the last time, he found Shanks on an unsuspicious island in a small port town. He asked a young woman, attractive and with a kind smile, where he could find the red-head. She blushed, whether from memory or from embarrassment that Mihawk had thought she might know about his whereabouts and been right in doing so and pointed him towards a small house at the end of the street. He knocked and waited. After several minutes, a young lad opened the door, with his undershirt hanging off his shoulders and his hair in a wild state of disarray. This definitely wasn’t Shanks. While Mihawk had no idea of who was standing in front of him, the man clearly recognized him. His face went pale and he shook like a leaf in the wind, his legs threatening to give out under him.

“I’m here to see Shanks. He has red hair and a straw hat. I believe you know him?”, Mihawk asked and within seconds, the man ran back into his house, screaming Shanks’s name. While he came down the stairs, he was still tying the sash around his waist and did not look pleased to have been interrupted. When he saw Mihawk, his face lit up and he dragged him into a crushing hug, as if the last time they had seen each other had been nothing but two friends on a night out that had gone wrong, a fun anecdote to tell in the future.

Shanks was steady on his legs and did not reek of alcohol; Mihawk counted himself lucky and did not resist when Shanks dragged him to a nearby inn and immediately ordered himself a beer. And so they found themselves sitting in a tavern, each with a drink in hand and their respective hat lying on the table.

“Why are you still here?”, Mihawk asked. Shanks laughed. It was a hearty laughter, full and deep, a far cry from the childish snickering at the beach breakfast. It was also a stark contrast to the gloom drunk Mihawk had left in the dust one year earlier. Nonetheless, if things had improved significantly since then, they were far from perfect. Grief is always hard thing to overcome, but Shanks was so different from the ambitious and annoying boy Mihawk had first met.  Now, he was only annoying.

“Where else should I go?”, Shanks asked in return, as if it were a satisfactory answer. Mihawk did not indulge him in this speculation, so Shanks drank another gulp of his beer. “I’m not yet ready to move on. There’s something waiting for me here, I can feel it.”

“I’ve never taken you for the romantic type.”

If he was being honest, Mihawk still could not see Shanks settling down, devoting his life to a single person, ready to spent his eternity with them.

“Dahaha, I’m not! Can you imagine me, giving up the sea and declaring my undying love for someone? No, Romance and Love are concepts invented for other people.”

“Then I do not understand what you mean. You love the sea. Why no go back to the Grand Line and make a name for yourself? It’s been two years and you’re still hovering around in this small ocean, without a crew no less. I doubt the Marines are even aware of your existence.”

“In comparison to you, you mean? The fearsome and mighty Hawkeye, cutting ships in half when he pleases!”

“Don’t change the subject.” Of course Shanks was right. Mihawk’s bounty was rapidly increasing, an inevitable consequence of the many duels he fought whenever he met someone worthy of his attention. The Marine’s were chasing him more and more often as well. But what Mihawk did in his free time had nothing to do with Shanks’s utter stagnation, so unlike someone who had travelled with the Pirate King, and which did not match the energy and desperation he had seen in their first brief encounters.

“What can I tell you, Mihawk? Somehow, I just know it is not my time to leave this Blue yet. Call it premonition, subconscious, hell, maybe even Haki, but I just know someone is waiting for me and I don’t intent on missing them when the time comes just because I’m chasing the next adventure. What crew am I even supposed to sail with? I don’t want to have a horde of men at my beck and call, following my orders because they fear me or want some of the glory that comes with sailing under my name.”

Mihawk could just stop himself from pointing out that even if Shanks managed to gather a crew, there would be no glory for his men from doing so, since he still very obviously lacked a bounty, let alone one commanding either fear or respect.

“I would end up throwing all of them overboard within a week. I want a crew like we used to be, friends to discover the world with, in the search of a common goal,” Shanks concluded, staring into his mug with a gloomy look on his face.

“Then why not set sail to search for them? You’re clearly strong enough on your own, you have little to fear for the most parts. I just don’t think you’ll find your comrades in the East Blue.”

“Why not? Buggy’s from the East. So’s the captain.”

“Monkey D. Garp as well,” Mihawk added, indulging Shanks in his small listing of noticeable people from this part of the world. All it earned him was a sneering grimace.

“Ugh, I take back everything I just said. The old man isn’t letting me have a single month in peace without somehow tracking me down. I don’t understand why he’s here, don’t they need him in the New World or something? Some place where he isn’t bothering me?”

Mihawk watched as Shanks sulked and drank his beer. Luckily, he had never met the vice-admiral and considering the stories the Roger Pirated had told and what everyone else was saying about the Marine, it was better that way. Not only was Garp a living legend, he also seemed to be the exact type of person to give Mihawk a headache by sheer vice of his presence.

“Apparently he has a son. Maybe that’s why he’s stuck here. Teenage rebellion and all that jazz, you know?”, Shanks continued.

“What?”

“I know, I can’t really believe it either. I mean can you imagine having Garp as your father? If the kid turns out as anything else than his mortal enemy by the time he’s an adult, there must the something seriously wrong with him.”

“Shanks?”, Mihawk asked, sensing a vicious opportunity.

“Yeah?”

“Are you staying in the East-Blue because you Garp reminds you of Roger? Are you trying to find some sort of father figure in him?”

Mihawk knew it was a very low jab and one he normally considered himself above of, but if it was something, anything, to pull Shanks out of his lethargy, capable of breaking his mask of false happiness, then he was ready to stoop as low as the bottom of any valley.

Shanks seemed seriously surprised by this remark. Surprised and shocked.

“Mihawk, what the fuck, man?”

Several other guests in the bar turned around in reaction to Shanks loud emotional outburst. Mihawk did his best to ignore them.

“So far, it’s the only logical conclusion I can come to regarding your behaviour.”

“Goddamnit, Mihawk, isn’t a man allowed to just spend his life in peace? You spend your days sailing from island to island in your little boat as if you’re the only person in the world, why can’t I do the same?” Immediately, the jovial atmosphere had disappeared for something colder, harder, sharper.

“Because that’s not you.”

“What do you know about me?” Shanks lifted his glass to drink more beer, but there was nothing left. Frustrated and with full force, he slammed it back onto the table. The straw hat nearly slipped to the floor. Mihawk barely managed to catch it before it touched the ground.

Carefully, he put it back next to his own.

Shanks was already waving to the bartender for another drink when Mihawk pinned down his wrist and forced him to look him in the eyes.

“I know you used to have ambition, Shanks. One of the first things you ever said to me was that we should fight and that you would terrorize the seas. That ambition is gone.”

“I was twelve, Mihawk. How often have we seen each other since then, huh? Three, four times at best? One of which was the lowest days of my life? How fucking arrogant are you to believe your assessment of a child is in any way relevant now that I’m an adult?”

Mihawk bit back that Shanks was barely 17 and still a long way from being anything close to an adult. Because now Shanks was angry, and it was the closest thing Mihawk could have to see him being alive. Maybe he could drive him a little bit further, push him a little bit closer to the pain of passion.

“I know Rayleigh and Roger would never have tolerated anyone as weak-willed as you are right now on their crew.”

The push had been too strong. Mihawk fell over backwards from the impact of Shanks’s punch straight to his face, still holding the heavy glass mug, now smeared with blood.

He could taste the unfamiliar flavour of wet iron in his mouth. Luckily, all his teeth seemed intact. All the attention in the bar was now definitely on them.

“Hey, no fights in my bar. Go sort out your business outside!”, the bartender shouted.

However, Shanks did not look ready to move. Thin as a stick, he seemed like a bamboo plant ready to take on a storm. With a quick look to the bartender, Mihawk put on his hat, grabbed his sword, the straw hat, and Shanks and dragged him outside. Shanks tried to free himself, to get a good hit at Mihawk, but he did not stop until they had left the small town. Only then, surrounded by trees, rocks and a lack of civilization, did he let go.

“Take that back!”

“No.”

“You have no right to speak of them like this!”, Shanks screamed again

“You say that and yet you’re cowering in the mud like a child, incapable of defending your words. Look at you! Everyone else made something with their life after the execution and you’ve given up on all your dreams! You’ve given up everything Roger has ever done for you!”

Mihawk had no idea what the other cabin boy, the one with the blue hair was doing in this moment or whether he was still alive for that matter, so what he had said was only partially true, but Shanks likely did not know that. Instead, he jumped up, pulled a knife from the Depths knows where and lunged forward. Mihawk stepped aside to dodge the attack.

So that’s how it was going to be.

Without hesitation, Mihawk unsheathed the knife from his pendant and fell into a defensive stance. If Shanks needed to work off some steam, he was ready to take him on.

Withing seconds, Mihawk had fallen into a steady rhythm of parrying, dodging, and playing Shanks like a fiddle.  It was a fun fight, far better than most duels Mihawk had suffered on his way through the East Blue, but still no true match. Shanks was irrational, lacked the necessary clarity of thought and concentration and his Haki was like a general low humming in the distance, instead of a clean arrow supporting his sword arm and attacks in each strike it was supposed to be.  

After 10 minutes, Mihawk was bored and Shanks looked exhausted. With a simple kick, he brought him to the floor. When Shanks didn’t get up again, he cleaned his small blade on his shirt — he would have to sharpen it soon — and sat down on the next tree stump.

“Well, that was disappointing. Rayleigh’s stories made you sound like a better fighter.”

Shanks didn’t reply. He simply continued to lie on the ground, the straw hat lying a few meters beside him. It had fallen off during the fight. Mihawk picked it up and let it fall on Shanks chest.

“Next time you want to fight me, I recommend you do so with an actual sword.”

Then, he left the island. Whether Shanks managed to escape the claws of grief and get out the hole he had fallen into was now out of his hands. But comparing him to the boy Mihawk had left behind one year ago and the man he had fought today, there was still hope.

[sammysdewysensitiveeyes]

@thecorteztwins

Hello, once again I got a scene idea for your alt-Marauders stuck in my head and couldn’t rest until I wrote it, this time with Pyro and Shinobi making fun of Sebastian for being a wine snob.  Starts out light and funny, takes a sharp left turn into angst, then lightens up again at the end.  Sorry if I write Sebastian as too much of a villain here; I have a lot more sympathy for Shinobi and Pyro than I do for him, but I don’t want to straw-man the guy. 

It had been Sebastian, Shinobi, Madelyne and Claudine participating in the wine-tasting competition.  Haven had demurred that she didn’t know enough to participate, although Pyro wondered how true that was – she’d grown up surrounded by luxury, hadn’t she?  She must have had plenty of the good stuff.  Pyro had also admitted that he could barely tell red from white in a blind taste-test, much less differentiate between a Pinot Noir and Merlot.  Besides, he’d added, ignoring Shaw’s backhanded comment about how “it was sensible of him to know his limitations,” he’d rather drink wine than spit it into a bucket.  And someone had to help Haven pour.  

Of course, drinking the wine meant that he was more than a little soused as the contest wound towards its conclusion. Claudine had approached each wine with a detached, scientific analysis, speculating on fermentation techniques and breeds of fruit.  Madelyne was surprisingly knowledgeable for someone who hadn’t grown up filthy rich, and seemed to think the whole thing was great fun.  Shinobi, true to his background, had a refined palate, although he kept slowing things down by reminiscing about exactly where (and with whom) he’d first tried the various wines.  He’d missed a Château Leblanc because apparently “it tasted different when drunk out of a super-model’s high heels.”  It didn’t help that he’d also been drinking the wine, because “spitting is disgusting.” Of course, Sebastian had dominated the game, correctly guessing every wine, making a show of sniffing the aroma, then rolling it around in his mouth with great relish, giving extended lectures on the flavor notes of each wine, the grapes, the vineyard, what foods to best pair it with, and generally just being a pretentious dickhead. Unfortunately, Haven had turned down Pyro’s suggestion to have Sebastian drink out of the spit bucket, despite Pyro’s insistence that it would just be a hilarious, harmless prank.  

And it would take Shaw down a peg or two. The man was puffed up like a soufflé, and Pyro was dying to see, just once, the famous Shaw pride collapse into a soggy mess.  It didn’t even really matter.  Wine-tasting was a useless skill, as far as Pyro was concerned, and exactly the kind of spoiled over-indulgent nonsense he’d expect from the wealthy.  He just hated to see that smug fucker win at something again. Why did he have to be so damned good at things?  

But when the competition ended with Sebastian’s inevitable victory (Claudine in a surprising second place, apparently the scientific method worked), the group had broken up to various parts of the ship.  Haven was headed back to her cabin to read for a bit before bed.  Claudine and Madelyne went up top to look at the local constellations.  Pyro liked the mythology behind constellations, he was a sucker for a good story, but the stars themselves couldn’t hold his attention longer than about ten minutes.  Sebastian had fucked off somewhere, probably back to his own cabin to reflect on what a very smart and important businessman he was.  Pyro hadn’t been paying attention.  

Which left Shinobi and Pyro back in Shinobi’s room, where the contest had taken place, rather tipsy, and both a bit horny from all the “wine and sex” stories that Shinobi had been telling.  Slumped together on Shinobi’s spacious designer couch, Pyro rested his head against Shinobi’s shoulder, and let one hand drift down to the other man’s thigh, and things took their natural course.

Some very pleasant time later, they were both slipping back into their clothing, sweaty and still floating on the post-orgasm endorphin high.

“Well, that was fun,” Pyro laughed, pouring a glass of something dark and red.  He didn’t read the label, because he didn’t fucking well care.  “More fun than some kind of wine-tasting bullshit where you don’t even get to actually drink the wine.”

“Certainly more fun than watching Father dominate the contest,” Shinobi sighed.  He picked up several bottles and peered at the labels before finally pouring something that was, Pyro discerned with all of his expertise and skill, white wine.

“Who cares?”  Pyro said.  “Let him win the silly rich person contest.  What’s the point in being able to taste all the flavors in wine, anyway? It’s not like it’s a big secret, it’s written right on the label.”

“It’s actually very important when you’re moving in high society,” Shinobi said, looking pensive.  “I know it seems silly, but the kind of people that the Hellfire Club deals with will have no respect for someone who doesn’t know wine.”  He paused for a moment.  “I wish I’d done a bit better, it’s not like I don’t have experience.”

“Aww, fuck it, Shin.  Third place isn’t half-bad, and it was just for fun, wasn’t it? Trust me, I know how very skilled your tongue is.”  He tossed back his glass, and re-filled it, picking up a bottle at random.

“Nothing is ever ‘just for fun,’ with my father,” Shinobi said, holding up his own glass to look closely at it.  “There’s always some kind of test.  He always has to win, and I am always found wanting, no matter what I do.”

“C’mon, Shinobi, don’t let him make you feel bad. It’s all stupid.  He’s not special just because he can sip wine and make-up a lot of bullshit.  Anyone can do that.”  Pyro took a gulp of wine and held it in his mouth contemplatively, swirling the remainder around in his glass.  “Hmmm..a ’58 Bordeaux, brewed in a cask made from planks from the wreck of the HMS Endeavour.  Notes of Honeycrisp Apple, Trifle, Lavender soap and Black Cherry, offset by the delicate tang of diesel fuel.”

Shinobi flopped back onto the couch, laughing, and splashing some of his own wine onto his shirt.  

“You know wine is fermented, not brewed, right?” He chuckled.  

“I’m just gonna say that I know that to spare us further discussion about wine making,” Pyro shrugged.  “Brewed, fermented, made in a prison toilet, who cares?”

“It’s a good impression, but you have to make it a bit more accurate.  More like-” Shinobi took a sip of his own wine.  “-Montrachet Grand Cru 1981, from Domaine de la Romanee-Conti.  A bold, elegant Chardonnay, with a nose of winter apricots, Mutsu apples, distressed orange peel and hints of funeral bouquet.  On the palate, white peach and badgered lemon, with a smidge of mango, smattering of sun-kissed pineapple, and the faintest tinge of the arsenic that my son has snuck into the glass.  Bottled by a beautiful French woman named Amelie that I impregnated.  I gave another bottle to my good friend Sir Elton John.”

“The only thing wrong there is that your father isn’t nearly cool enough to know Elton John,” Pyro laughed.  “Also, he doesn’t have any actual friends.”

“I’ll concede that point.”

“Here, let me try again.’  Pyro took another gulp.  “Lascivious pear marmalade, with pomegranate, chocolate, lightly-spanked peaches and a naughty little hint of strawberry.  Sensual mouthfeel, like giving a blow job to a fruit stand.  I shoved the entire bottle up my arse this morning, and found it most satisfying.”

Shinobi howled with laughter, spilling most of the rest of his wine.  He poured again from a different bottle.

“Okay, my turn.  A 1947 Chateau Cheval Blanc, from Saint-Emilion Grand Cru, France.  A rich, taste and firm structure.  Midnight black currant, eccentric cranberry and depressed plums, with twinkles of Madagascar Vanilla, cayenne pepper and wasabi. Floral notes of crushed apple blossom and – “ he paused to take a sniff, “-discarded Valentine’s roses. Bottle personally kissed by Winston Churchill.”

“Okay, okay, here’s –“ Pyro took a swig from a new glass, “Blackberry, quince and persimmon, gathered at midnight under the full moon, fermented in a cask taken from a woman hung for witch-craft.  Hints of lamb’s blood and children’s tears, with just a touch of grave dirt bringing out the earthy tones.  Nice, floral scent, light and airy on the tongue, pairs well with fish.  A refreshing summer wine.”                

“Screaming Eagle Sauvignon Blanc.  Grapes gently cuddled by professional masseuses.  Aroma of spring grass and wet cement.  Lashings of nectarine and little daubs of passionfruit, with a suggestion of yoga sweat.  Like licking coconut-butter and hibiscus-pear puree off a beautiful woman at the beach-”

“Are the two of you going to be finished anytime soon?”  A dry voice interrupted, and both turned to see Sebastian standing in the doorway. Shinobi, clutching his glass against his chest, looked chagrinned, while Pryo simply stared back at Shaw, unimpressed.

“I was hoping to retrieve one of the unopened wine bottles, assuming that the two of you haven’t wasted it all with your childish games.”  Sebastian sniffed, grimacing.  “And judging by the smell in here, I’m glad that I came by after the two of you finished fornicating, not during.”

“Fornicating?”  Pyro snorted. “Why don’t you peddle off on your giant Victorian bicycle and snatch some lemon drops away from poor children?”

“Why do you care anyway, Father?  You have sex all the time, much as I’d like to forget it,” Shinobi put in.

“I do not grudge you seeking your pleasures, Shinobi, but pleasure is meant to be a reward after a long day’s hard work, not something to wallow in day after day, entirely unearned.  And I do wish you were a bit more discerning in your partners.  That ‘giant Victorian bicycle’ was called a ‘penny-farthing,’ Mr. Allerdyce.”

“I know what it’s called, Shaw,” Pyro grumbled, annoyed despite himself.  He’d run across the term while researching one of his novels, but of course Shaw would treat him like a moron because he hadn’t used the “proper term” when tossing off a cheap insult.  

“At any rate, I suppose I shouldn’t be surprised. Inferiors will always mock their betters, out of jealousy and lack of understanding.  But I had hoped that you, at least, would show more dignity, Shinobi. Did I not raise you to be better than this?”

“You barely raised me at all!”  Shinobi snapped, although he did not meet Sebastian’s eyes.

“It’s not jealousy or lack of understanding,” Pyro said, arms folded.  “We mock you because you’re a snobby arse that thinks you’re better than everyone else. Simple as that.”

“And am I not better?  I worked my way up from nothing to create a business empire.  I have amassed wealth and power that most people can only dream of, all from my own intelligence and hard work.  And compared to, what?  A stupid, intensely lazy son who would happily drink and fuck his way through life.  And a failed author who turned to terrorism and petty crime.  I think I can objectively say that I am, indeed, better.”

“Failed author?!”  Pyro was incensed.  “My books sold millions of copies, you wanker.  Maybe it wasn’t Shakespeare, but it was fucking well successful.”

“Fine, a mediocre author who enjoyed some small measure of popular success,” Sebastian shrugged.  “I don’t know why people published your tripe, but they did.  I’ll give you that.  From that perspective, I suppose my own son is even more disappointing. At least you had some semblance of a career.”

“Why don’t you take your wine and fuck off? There’s plenty left, if it’s good enough to satisfy your oh-so-refined palate.  We’re trying to have a fun evening here, and I’m sure you’re very busy plotting to steal Christmas.”

“No, I think the sight of my son’s debauchery has quite put me off wine for the moment.  I suppose I should really stop being surprised and disappointed at this point, but every time I think you’ve fallen as far as you can, Shinobi, you manage to find a new bottom.”  Shinobi did not respond, only clutched at the glass harder, a flush spreading over his face.

“Oh no, you can’t leave without a drink, Shaw. We’ve prepared a special blend for you, all the fanciest brands.”  And before he could second-guess himself, Pyro picked up the spit bucket and hurled it across the room at Sebastian.

Sebastian dodged to the side, far faster than Pyro would expect from a man of his size, and the mixture of wine and spit splattered against the wall and floor.  Shaw gave him a cold, fixed smile as he calmly pulled out a handkerchief and wiped a few errant drops off his polished leather shoes.  It was the kind of smile Pyro would have imagined on a wicked count in one of his books, as he locked the poor governess in the manor tower and informed her that the handsome stableboy would be hung for murder.  Of course, in Pyro’s books, the plucky heroine would climb down the ivy and rush to the courthouse in the nick of time with evidence of the stableboy’s innocence.  Real life was never so satisfying.  

Well, at least he’d made the bastard jump. Without moving or looking up, Shinobi reached out and clamped a hand over Pyro’s arm, as if anchoring him in place.          

“You know, I’m not even angry, Allerdyce,” Sebastian said, dispassionate, as if discussing ocean currents or famine death tolls.  He straightened his suit, which was still infuriatingly spotless.  “I don’t get angry when an ill-trained dog shits on the floor.  It cannot help doing what comes naturally.  Of course, I will still wring the mongrel’s neck.”  The smile stretched a bit wider, showing more teeth.  “I have little patience for ill-trained beasts, and I like a good, clean floor.”

“That a threat, mate?”  Pyro snapped.  Shinobi’s grip on his arm tightened, and he felt tingly all over, vaguely light-headed. The wine was certainly making itself known.

“You’re not important enough for threats.  I assume you will clean this up after you and my idiot son sleep off your intoxication.  And Shinobi and I will have a discussion about his behavior, when he is actually sober enough to listen to reason.”  Sebastian addressed the last sentence directly to his son, who still stood quietly, head bowed.  Pyro could feel tremors running up his arm, and realized that Shinobi was shaking.  Fury boiled up inside him, hot and quick.

“No, you bloody well won’t!”  He snarled.  “Your son is a grown man who can make his own fucking choices, yeah, and you’re not going to lecture him like a child, or….or anything else.  Anything else.”  There were words caught in his throat.  Things that Shinobi had only whispered, that were not meant to be said aloud.  “I won’t let you.  No one on this ship will let you!”  Pyro groped for his lighter on the table, planning to send a few fireballs at Shaw’s smug face, at least singe his eyebrows a bit.  He gaped for a moment as his hand passed directly through the table – fuckin’ hell I’m a ghost! – before he realized that Shinobi had phased both of them.  

Sebastian smirked.  “You’re very chivalrous towards the people you want to fuck, aren’t you, Allerdyce?  Does that help you to believe that you’re more than just a crass, violent thug?”

“Fuck off, Shaw!”  

“Let’s avoid any more poor choices tonight, shall we?” Sebastian leaned forward, and Shinobi actually flinched slightly, leaning back.  But Shaw just scooped up the lighter and pocketed it.  “I don’t think you’re in any condition to use this responsibly, Allerdyce. Remember, your precious Ms. Dastoor wouldn’t come back if you torched the boat, even if the rest of us would. And Shinobi – “

Letting go of Pyro’s arm, Shinobi finally raised his head, gazing up at his father through the mess of hair that had fallen across his face.  

“There’s really nothing to say, is there?  Nothing you haven’t heard before.  You’ve disappointed me time and time again.  I won’t waste my breath any further tonight. Enjoy wallowing in filth.  Come see me when you’re ready to act like a man again.”

“Yeah, no need to waste any more time here, I’m sure you’ve got loads of kitten murder videos to wank off to.”  Sebastian didn’t react, as he was already striding from the room, door swinging shut.  “Why don’t you go kick Tiny Tim’s crutch out from under him, that’ll get you nice and hard, won’t it?”  Pyro yelled after him.  

He sat fuming for a moment, wanting more than anything to rush down the corridor and rip out handfuls of Sebastian’s hair. Gouge his eyes out with his fingers and shove the bloody mess down his throat.  To torch the man until his skin cracked and bubbled.  To make him hurt.  But that wasn’t a battle he was likely to win, so instead he grabbed the table and flipped it over, the wine glasses shattering in every direction.  

He could imagine Shaw pausing in the hall, smirking in satisfaction at the sound of Pyro throwing a tantrum, acting like the animal that he really was.  He hurled an empty bottle at the door, but it must have been sturdily made, as it simply bounced and rolled.  Then he sat with his arms wrapped tight around himself, taking deep, slow breaths.  He could never quite believe that his power didn’t include creating fire, because he got so impossibly hot when enraged like this.  It would be so satisfying to burn something – something old and huge and valuable, just to stand in the center of the inferno and let it all turn to ash around him.  

Either that, or a good, hard fuck.  That’d do the trick, too.  

Perhaps it really was for the best that Shaw had taken his lighter.  Of course, he had at least two more on him, but he left them in his pockets, and instead took deep breaths.  Just like Haven had taught him, hands on his shoulders, to find a calm, cool place that existed somewhere inside him.  This is how we put the fire out.            

He heard a small sound, and realized as he opened his eyes that Shinobi was no longer standing next to him.  Instead, he was wobbling his way over towards the spilled wine (thrown wine, actually) with one of the bathroom towels.  He dropped to his knees and began to mop up the puddle.

“Shin, no, don’t do that,” Pyro stumbled over to him, none too steady himself.  He pulled the towel away.  It was his own mess to take care of, but more importantly, interrupting their evening to clean up a stupid wine splatter felt very much like letting Sebastian win.  

“It’ll stain,” Shinobi mumbled, looking down at the floor, not meeting Pyro’s eyes.    

“Who gives a shit?  I’ll clean it up tomorrow, okay?  I’m the one who threw it, I’ll take care of it.  I’ll give the whole floor a good scrubbing in a sexy maid costume.” He winked half-heartedly.  

Shinobi scowled down at the floor, and then gave Pyro an abrupt shove, knocking him off balance.

“Why did you have to act like such an asshole? Father already thinks the worst of you, but you always make it worse!”  

“Me?”  Pyro blinked in disbelief.  “He’s the one barging in here swinging his dick around.  You want me to just stand there like a kid getting lectured?  Fuck that!”

“I mean, you could just….you could at least try…” Shinobi mumbled, wringing his hands.

“Try what?  Try to be a little more sophisticated, is that it?  You think your Dad is right about me?  Am I too trashy for you, Shinobi?  I wasn’t too trashy to suck your dick twenty minutes ago, was I?”

“No!  No, I don’t mean, that!”  Shinobi stammered.  “I don’t mean….I just…..he always…..he….”

Suddenly Shinobi sucked in a sharp, hard breath, and wrapped his arms around Pyro’s torso, burying his face against his side.  Pyro fell silent as Shinobi squeezed him tight, breathing in harsh, ragged gasps that Pyro would politely not acknowledge as sobs.  

It wasn’t something that he was exactly used to, despite all the soppy romantic bullshit he wrote.  He’d spent half his life in terrorist and quasi-legit military groups full of dudes with powers who treated every single interaction as a dick-measuring contest.  Not to mention their fearless leader, who would probably jump off a cliff before she showed enough vulnerability to shed a tear.

But sometimes it happened.  Sometimes guys broke.  It had happened to Dominic once when the divorce was official.  He and Helen been separated long before Dominic became “Avalanche,” but somehow seeing it in writing had left the usually stoic man sobbing.  It had happened to Pyro right after they got back from a fruitless quest in the Savage Land for a Legacy Virus cure that had never existed in the first place.  He’d been able to hold it together while they were fighting their way out, but once he was back at his apartment – sick, hurting and so fucking exhausted, back in the place where he was now definitely going to die – he’d broken down completely.  Both times, they’d just held each other and said nothing, and that was enough.  Later they’d pretended nothing had happened, to spare the other man’s pride.  

He didn’t think silence would work with Shinobi. Shinobi was a talker (and frankly, if Pyro was honest, so was he.)  Gingerly, he reached his arms down to encircle Shinobi in an awkward hug.

“There, there,” he tried.  God, couldn’t he do any better than that?  He was a writer, for fuck’s sake.  He’d just had sex with the man less than an hour ago.  What would one of his heroes say?  

Not to worry, darling, I’ve discovered the Marquis’s dreadful secret. Your marriage was never legal in the first place, and we can have it annulled on the morrow.

There is no ghost, my love.  It is merely a trick of the light and your own flighty imagination. I swear to you, there is nothing out on those moors except the odd rabbit.  Pay no attention to servants’ gossip.  

To hell with your damned father!  I swear he shall not keep us apart another second, and you need never fear him again.

Well, that last one was awfully tempting.  But probably not quite right.  

“Hey,” he tried again.  “It’s okay.  I know….I know it don’t exactly seem okay right now.  But it is.  You’re not a kid anymore, right?  And you’re not alone here.  You’ve got a boatful of people with you, and we’re all willing to get between you and that moldy old nutsack you call a father, yeah?  We’re not gonna let him do anything to you, okay?”  At least, Pyro knew that he, Madelyne and Haven would all be willing to step between father and son, if necessary.  He wasn’t totally sure about Claudine, she could be a bit of a cold fish, but she seemed decent enough.

Shinobi’s harsh breathing that was not quite sobs was starting to slow a little bit, so Pyro figured he was probably doing something right.

“And fuck him, anyway.  You’re not any of the things he said.  He spends your whole life either ignoring you or beating you up, but he thinks he can step in and start judging you now?  He sets you up with all his money, then blames you for growing up rich?  What an absolute cunt.  He’s just completely wrapped up in himself, Shin.  He’s the king of the fucking universe and anyone who isn’t him is just a peasant.  That’s why he’s so hard on you, because you’re not exactly like him.  Which believe me, is a good thing.”  

“I just wish……I wish I was better sometimes,” Shinobi gasped.  

“Well, fuck man, me too,” Pyro said.  “I wish I was better, I mean.  Not the way your old man means it, just…you know, generally better. I’ve killed people, I’ve stolen, and I really don’t feel all that bad about a lot of it.  Compared to that, being a trust-fund kid who likes to party really isn’t all that bad.”

Shinobi huffed slightly, nearly a laugh.

“And hey, you almost managed to kill your Dad.”

“Almost.”

“Still, quite an accomplishment.  And Shaw’s full of bullshit talking about you never working, anyway.  We’re all part of the crew here, we all go on missions.  You contribute just like everyone else.  So he can shut the fuck up.”  

“Yeah, I guess.”  Shinobi drew back, rubbing at his face, and sniffing.  “Hey, did you say ‘there, there’ when I first started, um, you know…..crying?”  

“Yeah,” Pyro rubbed the back of his neck.  “I ain’t exactly a great therapist, I’m afraid. It was that, or start reading to you from The Ghost of Briarcliffe Manor.  At least the sex scenes would have perked you right up.”        

Shinobi cracked a smile.

“Maybe your Dad could use a bit of that.  Maybe he’d be less of a sour old bastard if he got laid more often.”

“No, unfortunately, he gets laid plenty,” Shinobi said, combing his hair back with his fingers.  “He just hates fun.”        

“Fun?”  Pyro assumed a sour expression, sticking his jaw out.  “We didn’t have fun when I was a boy.  In my day we worked a twelve-hour shift at the cannery and got a five-minute break to chew on a sassafras stick, and we liked that just fine!”  

Shinobi actually giggled, and Pyro went on, encouraged.

“Fun is a disease that has infested the younger generations!  All of this dancing and moving pictures, and gramophone music!  What’s wrong with eating a bowl of plain oatmeal and staring at a brick wall?  That’s how I used to let my hair down on Friday night!”  

Shinobi got up and returned with sofa pillows.

“Here.  Your chest is too narrow for the part.”

“Oh yes, mustn’t forget the massive tits.” Pyro unbuttoned his shirt to shove the pillows in.

There was wine and saliva seeping into his trouser legs as he knelt on the floor.  In the morning, he’d get up and clean up all the mess in a hung-over daze, and he’d probably step on broken glass in the dark and hop around swearing. Then he’d have to wait for the headache and nausea to lift while Sebastian gloated at their state.  

But it didn’t really matter.  At the moment, Pyro was pleasantly drunk and Shinobi was laughing, and that was good enough.

[wonderfulworldofmichaelford]

Psycho Analysis: Hol Horse

(WARNING! This analysis contains SPOILERS!)

So last year I thought it was a good idea to try and review all of the enemy Stand users in Stardust Crusaders in a totally random order. The results were… mixed. Some of them I think came out okay, but others? Not so much. One of them was just an entire backhanded attack against some guy who decided to say “No one likes your analyses” because I think ProJared was a creep. It was, quite frankly, a mess, and I never bothered to revisit it and never thought I would, even though I still hadn’t covered the glorious, wonderful human being who is Hol Horse.

Well, now, after playing Heritage for the Future and All-Star Battle as well as just becoming a bit more knowledgeable on JJBA, I’ve decided to not only give Hol Horse his dues, but also at least briefly go back over or cover the other Stand users and give them a rating or an updated rating, as the case may be. So buckle in, this is gonna be a long one, and it’s all gonna start with everyone’s favorite incompetent henchman.

Hol Horse is probably one of the most amazing characters Araki has ever created. Hol Horse is in possession of a powerful Stand, The Emperor, which is literally a magical gun that fires bullets he can control the trajectory of. By all accounts, Hol Horse should be the single most dangerous foe that the Crusaders face, more than even Vanilla Ice. This guy should be able to shoot them all dead without a second thought! There’s just one tiny little caveat:

Hol Horse is a fucking moron.

This man is cowardly, incompetent, and just the punching bag of cruel misfortune as all his plans constantly go awry and he is constantly knocked on his ass. And yet, Hol Horse is still the most beloved enemy Stand User of Stardust Crusaders, and it’s not hard to see why. Because despite all of his bumbling, Hol Horse just oozes a sort of cool you just don’t see every day.

(For best results, listen to this the whole time while reading the following).

Motivation/Goals: Hol Horse is one of the few henchmen of DIO who is motivated purely by his own greed… at least, at first. Eventually he has his ass handed to him one too many times, and he decides to try and assassinate DIO. This goes about as well as you’d expect, and Hol Horse – not just part of it, the ENTIRE Horse – is so scared out of his mind that he decides, yep, loyalty to DIO is the way to go! It doesn’t work out, but hey, he tried, right?

Performance: Imami Williams gives Hol Horse that raspy, American charm he needs in the anime adaptation. With his voice and the animation combined, we get to see our favorite smarmy sharpshooter who can’t shoot for shit shoot his shot and miss every time, and it is simply glorious.

Final Fate: Hol Horse kidnaps Boingo and forces him to work with him to finally get his revenge! With the prophetic skills of Thoth and the raw damage that can be done with Emperor, there’s no way they could lose! And yet, as is always the case with Thoth, things go horrendously awry and Hol Horse, despite having the ability to control the trajectory of his bullets, ends up shooting himself and knocking him out of part 3 for good.

Best Scene: Really, just the entirety of the episodes where he teams up with Boingo, especially when he tries holding up Polnareff. Considering what comes after and what came before it, it’s just the dose of lighthearted fun needed before you watch all of your favorite characters get brutally murdered by DIO and Vanilla Ice,. 

Best Quote: There is only one line it could be, and it’s Hol Horse’s response to Thoth’s suggestion he kick a woman in the neck: “Listen, Boingo... I am the nicest man in the world. I have girlfriends everywhere. I might lie to a woman, but I'll never hit them! It doesn't matter how ugly they are! Because I respect women!”

That’s right, everyone. Hol Horse drinks Respect Women Juice.

Final Thoughts & Score: Hol Horse is simply astounding. The character is such a colossal screwup that he shouldn’t be as good as he is… yet he is. The dude is gifted with the most incredible power imaginable, and yet somehow he is never able to do a goddamn thing with that power! You control where the bullets go, dude! How can you not hit anything?! It’s interesting how his cowardice and lack of motivation makes him a perfect representation of the inverted Emperor tarot card, but hey, tarot motifs are par for the course with the Stand users.

But there’s something charming to how pathetic Hol Horse is. He’s always plying second banana, he’s a dirty coward who turns tail and runs when things aren’t looking good for him, he never wins a single battle, he didn’t even kill the one guy it seemed like he killed… but throughout it all he still has this sort of smarmy charisma to him that makes him impossible to hate. It’s no wonder this guy has girls all over the world, because he is a world-class charmer. There’s also how Hol Horse is just a character who really, really lives by his own personal philosophy – that is to say, he always likes to be #2, never going into a fight without backup. It’s kind of refreshing to see him always stick by this, even to his own detriment; it’s hard to hate a man who’s principled to that degree. And, of course, this man respects women. Good on him.

It helps that Hol Horse’s inexplicable popularity has led to him getting his time to shine in outside media. Heritage for the Future has two versions of him, his regular form and one that partners him with Boingo, and in skilled hands his Emperor finally gets to live up to its deadly potential. And he’s no slouch in his return appearance in All-Star Battle, and what’s more impressive is in that game he is part of the base roster while Joseph and Iggy, two of the main heroes, are relegated to DLC! You heard me right: the bumbling cowboy who did not win a single fight or even come close to it and spent a lot of time shooting himself managed to beat out out two iconic heroes from the same part onto the roster! Horsey Man must be doing something right.

As this video shows, Hol Horse is one of the most influential characters in the JJBA franchise, having helped to shape the franchise going forward and helped to inspire the traits that made beloved characters like Guido Mista, Gyro Zeppeli, and Yoshikage Kira as legendary as they are. Hell, Hol Horse is just so awesome he almost got to be a protagonist, but Araki decided that Horsey was too similar to my favorite big-titty Frenchman, Polnareff. This means Hol Horse never got his time to shine as a hero, and so stayed a villain til the end… but hey, can he really be that sad if he gets a 10/10 on Psycho Analysis?

Actually, maybe he wouldn’t like that. He likes to play second fiddle to others, after all. But I guess that’s just the curse with these JoJo villains who want to not stand out; they always end up being the best and most memorable characters.

Anyway, now that we’ve got the best of the best out of the way, it’s time for...

Psycho Analysis: DIO’s Other Henchmen

I’m just gonna give my brief thoughts on these guys. Most of them are pretty one-note oneshots, but there are a few who rise above that and manage to be something else entirely. These guys were a learning experience for Araki, and his enemy Stand users of the week definitely improved with later parts, with Vento Aureo really cranking it up to 11. 

But for now, we’re stuck with these guys.

Gray Fly: I actually stand by my opinion from my original review of him; he’s nothing incredibly memorable, but he’s a solid start to the adventure and he is directly responsible for diverting the journey onto the course it ended up going on. Without him, things would have likely played out far differently. A 5/10 is still a good score for him.

Fake Captain Tenille: He actually gets bumped down to a 2/10, due to my changes in how things are scored. He’s not amusing enough to be in the “So bad it’s good” category of the other 3s, he’s just really lame and forgettable, and he still somehow manages to lose when he has the advantage. What a dweeb.

Forever: If you think the monkey boat fight is dropping in score, you’re mistaken. Forever remains at an 8/10 for being such a delightfully weird curveball that helps set the tone for the franchise to follow.

Devo: One of the weirder playable character choices from Heritage for the Future, and certainly not one I like too much; he’s also a random event that is pretty useful in All-Star Battle’s online campaign, so that’s a good mark for him. If nothing else, he gave a good showing of Polnareff’s skills when under pressure, so… yeah. I think a 5/10 is good enough.

Rubber Soul: This review I regret because I was backhandedly responding to that guy who weirdly decided to bring up my distaste for ProJared in a review of Arabia Fats and Kenny G. I do mostly stand by what I said; Rubber Soul is one of the more amusing minor foes, if only because of his ridiculous performance as Kakyoin. Still, it really sucks he was just a clone character in Heritage for the Future… put he gets points for  having the iconic cherry-licking as a taunt. 6/10 is where he remains.

J. Geil: Again, my opinion hasn’t changed: J. Geil is a mountain of wasted potential, but at the very least he makes for a good antagonist for his brief appearance and hey, he’s the one who helped bring us the beautiful hunk of man that is Hol Horse, so I’d feel bad giving him less than a 7/10.

Nena: I honestly think Nena is one of the most boring Stand users of the part, which is sad because her episode gives Joseph the spotlight. She’s just really gross and uninteresting, and you’ll likely forget her after her episode is over. 2/10.

ZZ: ZZ is not particularly great, and his design is just there to be a joke, but it’s hard to totally hate a guy who manages to roll references to Christine, Duel, and the album cover for Eliminator by his namesake into one. I think he’s more of a 4/10, but probably on the higher end there. He’s not great, but he has enough going for him to keep me from hating him.

Enya: So if I thought that J. Geil was a waste of potential, I feel this even more so for his mother Enya. Despite being hyped up as this big, intimidating right-hand woman to DIO early on, she gets one appearance where her Stand is defeated by Star Platinum pulling a power out his ass and then is unceremoniously killed by Steely Dan of all people. I will give her this: her interactions with Polnareff are absolutely hilarious. But when all you have going for is some jokes, don’t be surprised when you end up with a 6/10, which you’re pretty much only getting because even despite the mountains of wasted potential you’re really not that bad.

She do be looking hot in the OVA tho.

Steely Dan: My opinion is unchanged; he’s a solid 7/10 oneshot douchebag. Nothing more, nothing less. His level in the PS1 game seriously blows, though.

Arabia Fats: I was too hard on this guy. While I meant everything I said, and his episode is boring filler, does it really make him a bottom of the barrel all-time worst villain? No. It just makes him a crappy joke character. 2/10.

Mannish Boy: I regret not getting to this guy last time, because aside from Forever he’s probably one of the most insane Stand user of the part, seeing as he is an infant. Like, he’s just an evil baby who can kill people in their dreams. And he gets defeated by being force fed his own crap. Much like Forever, it’s fun to speculate where exactly DIO found this guy; did he just go to a nursery and start jabbing babies with the Stand arrow? Did he meet this guy at a Cairo night club? What exactly is Mannish Boy’s origin? He’s just so utterly and hilariously inexplicable. He’s definitely a 7/10; he doesn’t quite have the shock factor that Forever did before him, but let’s not pretend an evil talking baby Stand user isn’t one hell of a weird twist.

Cameo: This guy really lives up to his name; his Stand is the one that gets the most screentime, with the actual Stand user being relegated to a – you guessed it – cameo appearance at the end of the fight. Thankfully, his Stand is an enjoyable take on jerkass genies and gives a pretty sad and disturbing episode that not only features my man Polnareff, but also marks the point where Avdol returns and brings “Hell 2 U!” I think he deserves at least a 7/10, even if this is mainly for Judgment. Still, a Stand is a representation of the user’s soul, so I think it works out.

Here’s the Stand:

And here’s the man behind it:

Midler: Midler is one of the single most interesting characters from the pre-Egypt half of Stardust Crusaders, and is the point where Stand users really started to get interesting. Her Stand, High Priestess, has a really funky and unique design, and her battle serves as the final roadblock before the Crusaders arrive in Egypt. Despite never appearing onscreen, with only her unconscious body being shown at the end of the fight in a way that obscures her, she got to appear in Heritage for the Future with an awesome sexy belly dancer design and a badass moveset that makes her a really fun character to play as. Taking everything into account, I think she just barely scrapes into the bottom of the 8/10 pool, though really this is mainly for her playable appearance.

N’Doul: My opinions really haven’t changed on him. He’s still an 8/10.

Oingo & Boingo: These guys are, in a word, hilarious. In between the grueling, brutal fight with N’Doul and the later fights in the part, these guys bring some much needed levity to the proceedings. Oingo gets an entire episode where he just completely bumbles about as he attempts to impersonate Jotaro to assassinate the Crusaders, failing at every turn and only managing to blow himself up in the end. Boingo fares a little better, eventually getting roped in to Hol Horse’s scheme to get some revenge, which leads to one of the funniest episodes of the entire series as Hol Horse and Oingo hold up Polnareff. I think they collectively get an 8/10 for being two of the funniest Stand users in the part. They even get their own unique end credits in the anime (with Hol Horse joining in on the fun when he teams up with Boingo)!

Anubis: Again, my opinion is unchanged, though I must say him having technically three playable appearances in Heritage for the Future does make me have at least a little more fondness for him. Black Polnareff, Chaka, and Khan are all amusing characters to play as and all have some awesome theme music. Introducing the concept of Stands being able to exist independently of their Original user is pretty neat, as well as the idea of a Stand that can switch users like it does. 7/10 is still what I’d give it, but I think that it’s pretty telling that this is probably the “weakest” character in the Egypt arcs in terms of being a villain, and yet he’s still pretty cool.

Mariah: Completely unchanged. She still deserves an 8/10, because her episode is hilarious, her playable appearance in Heritage for the Future is a blast, and she’s just really frikkin’ hot. I’m not gonna lie, she’s probably my second favorite enemy Stand user out of the Egyptian ones. I may or may not want her to step on me.

Alessi: I’m going to be honest here: Alessi is my favorite of the Egyptian Stand users. He’s an ax crazy coward with pedophile undertones who is just an utterly demented and sick individual with a seriously intriguing Stand that de-ages its victims. It’s a damn shame he never crossed paths with Joseph and de-aged him, but when he’s just such a hilarious and hateable lunatic with an incredibly fun playable appearance in Heritage for the Future (complete with awesomely creepy theme music!) it’s hard for me to give Alessi anything less than a 9/10. Attaboy!

Daniel J. D’Arby: My opinion is honestly unchanged, but I think I’d bump him down to an 8/10.

Pet Shop: Again, unchanged really. It’s hard to give a character as busted as he is in Heritage for the Future anything less than a 9/10 any way you slice it.

Telence T. D’Arby: Opinion unchanged, 8/10. I don’t have much else to say here, besides Xander Mobus rocks.

Kenny G: See Arabia Fats above. I got irrationally mad over a dumb joke character. He’s not going above a 2/10, but he’s not worth really getting mad about.

Vanilla Ice: I still think he’s the only enemy Stand user besides Hol Horse who deserves his 10/10. My opinion of him remains unchanged, but I would like to say he’s easily one of my favorite characters to play as in All-Star Battle.

Nukesaku: Ok, he’s not an enemy Stand user, he’s just some weird vampire… zombie… thing. Still, I feel he’s at least worth briefly mentioning, if only because he’s probably the only easily-defeated joke villain Araki did from the first three parts who is particularly memorable. Wired Beck and Doobie are really not all that memorable, but Nukesaku at least elicits a few chuckles – he even gets cameos in Heritage for the Future as well as getting to be a stage hazard in All-Star Battle. For what he is, I think he deserves a 5/10.

And with all these enemies taken care of, that just leaves one more Stand user to talk about.. one whose Psycho Analysis has been sitting in my drafts for a year now...

[rilakoya]

No Place Like Home

A Perspective! and Reality!AU

Word Count: 2.2K

Warnings: Raw honesty and social justice themes

A/N: Personal experiences ahead. I call it an AU because sometimes we’re so into escapism that reality feels like the fantasy. 

6:20 pm

“OMG, social media is so dead today!”

It’s Tuesday after the protests have begun, and my roommate is bitching and demanding his privilege. I like to believe that he means well, but he’s also a diva, and complaints are his forte.

“Well, it’s Blackout Tuesday-” I begin, but he cuts me off, eager to make his point, true to form.

“No, look, I get it. Really I do. But all I keep seeing is a black screen. I keep my phone on dark mode for a reason. I don’t want to have to keep downloading games because I need something to occupy my time today.”

Need. That’s definitely a feeling I’m familiar with. I need a sense of false security in order to leave my house and interact with others in a way that meets social expectations. I need a keen sense of self and social awareness and nimble cultural reflexes in order to ensure that I’m not perceived as angry or bitter in my responses to the way the world treats me. So what if I actually am, in fact, angry. Society has taught me that it deems my anger irrelevant, unworthy of notice, and I have been conditioned to recognize that showing it doesn’t get me what I want or need. Which makes me think again about my roommate’s commentary. He needs social media to be more lively, despite the fact that entire people groups are protesting unjust and inhumane treatment. And I need hope that my brothers won’t occupy body bags simply because they exist today.

I guess each person has their own struggles.

I’m a fiction writer. And at the risk of sounding boastful, I’m pretty good at it. But that’s just because good fiction requires a healthy dose of imagination, and I’m a master.

I have to be.

Every day since I was a little girl, I wake up and imagine that the fair rules of engagement apply to me. I imagine that I may expect the same level of courtesy and respect as my fairer-skinned counterparts.

In school, when my teachers would unspokenly expect me to work twice as hard to receive the same level of acceptance, I imagined that they did the same with all the children. When my scores indicated that I was a highly gifted student, multiple grade levels above my peers, but was frequently accused of cheating, plagiarism, and other forms of academic dishonesty because my superiors were unable or unwilling to accept that a little black girl could have possibly produced such results, I imagined a world where education systems were tailored to students and where teachers and administrators saw the value in children rather than just their preconceived notions about them because of the color of their skin.

When people granted me interviews because of the “normal” name on my resume and the professionally “white” sound of my voice, only to thank me after minimal interviews and promise to call once they saw me, I imagined that they recognized that my professional experience and qualifications were worth more than the wage that their budget permitted, instead of acknowledging that they often chose to hire someone who was less qualified but whiter than me, and when they paid said person more, I imagined that I probably wouldn’t have enjoyed doing that type of job anyway or working at that company anyway. Even though it was the same at many companies.

When people tell me that I am “pretty for a Black girl,” or “too pretty to ‘just’ be Black,” as though being Black isn’t already the most blessed form in creation, I imagine that what they’re really saying is, “you’re so fucking gorgeous that I don’t even know how to compliment you properly, so please forgive me while I babble like a moron and potentially insult you. I’m so awestruck that I just can’t help myself.”

I wrote my first smut during one of many unjust police stops, when the only purpose of the detainment was to harass me and remind me who was in control. I imagined that it was really a sexy roleplay and that I liked it. And when the trauma and anxiety of constantly wondering if I’m about to be stopped once again for Driving While Black threaten to be too much, I imagine that I’m really just in my house, writing it all down for a story. Even though the stories carry too much shame for me to comfortably share. I imagine that’s all just part of the process.

When I interact with the world, and no matter what, am told that I’m either “too much” or “not enough,” sometimes both at the same time, I imagine that what they’re really saying is that because I originate from the beginnings of creation, because I have both the secrets of the Earth and royalty in my blood, I don’t fit the mold, and they don’t know how to process my greatness. And this enables me to smile when I feel like shattering into a million pieces, when I’m reminded of how I don’t meet the social standard, how I don’t fit in.

Most of all, every day I imagine what it would be like to feel like I truly have a place on this vast Earth that I can safely call home. Home is where we are safe, where we are welcomed, where we belong.

I was born in Germany, but I don’t belong there.

I’ve lived in Mexico and Guatemala, but it’s not safe for me there.

Some of my ancestors were from Africa, but it’s a large continent, made up of many countries, all foreign to me because of cultural eradication, so I could visit, but really I don’t belong there.

My forebears were brought to the Americas as slaves, worked like dogs, and treated as less than animals, and although early settlers were considered “Americans” relatively quickly, after four centuries, I still don’t belong here.

I’m not even 40, but I was born during the Cold War, in a country that has successfully recovered from antisemitism, but not from antiblack sentiment.

Both of my parents were born before the Civil Rights Act was passed, in the middle of the Civils Rights Movement.

My grandparents were born near the end of the Great Depression and lived under Jim Crow law. My grandparents. The ones who told me stories while holding me on their knees, the ones who spent their lives sweating and striving for me to have better.

My grandma’s grandma was a slave. My dad remembers an aunt (a great-aunt) coming to his school in elementary to talk about the fact that she had been born a slave.

I think that people forget that it wasn’t that long ago, forget that the tyranny and oppression has gone on for so long.

They forget that Europeans have been enslaving Africans since the 15th century. For those who hated school, that means the 1400s. Slaves were brought to the Americas as early as 1503. The only reason we didn’t reach the country we now call the U.S. until the early 1600s was because it took England that long to decide to colonize the area.

They forget that in my great-great-grandparents’ time, in my great-grandparents’ time, in my grandparents’ time, at the time my parents were born, I could have been beaten, raped, falsely accused, cheated, ignored, taken advantage of, or killed just for the color of my skin.

They forget that, 401 years later, 155 years after the Civil War, 157 years after the Emancipation Proclamation, 152 years after the 14th Amendment, 57 years after MLK marched, 56 years after the Civil Rights Act was passed, nothing has changed.

They forget that it is our American right to speak out, to decry our oppression.

The First Amendment says that we have the right to freedom of speech and press, that we have the right to peaceably assemble and ask the government for a solution to our complaints of unfair treatment. But we are silenced, gassed when we protest peacefully, and our cries for justice have been ignored for generations.

The Second Amendment says that the right of the people to keep and bear arms shall not be infringed. Yet time after time, legally armed, law-abiding Blacks are arrested or shot just for being a person of color in possession of a gun, while white gun owners can brandish their weapons freely without fear of being shot or unjustly detained.

The Fourth Amendment says that citizens may not be subject to unreasonable search and seizure. It’s where the concept of a search warrant comes from. Yet Blacks and other people of color have been subject to racial profiling and racially motivated searches, frisking, and seizure of property for as long as we have been citizens of this country.

The Sixth Amendment says that citizens have the right to a public and speedy trial, by an impartial jury, to know what we’re being accused of, to be confronted by the witnesses against us, and to have the opportunity to gain witnesses in our favor, and to have the right to an attorney in our defense. This is one of the biggest jokes. People of color remain in cells for weeks and months before trial, and are often coerced into plea bargains for crimes they didn’t commit in the first place, just so they can get out of jail sooner rather than run the risk of being remaining in jail for months, only to face a courtroom that is predisposed against you because of stereotypes and shady police records, with a public defender that is overworked at best and disinterested or corrupt at worst, resulting in extremely long sentencing with little to no account for the time the individual has already been incarcerated, seemingly as a penalty for refusing to take the fall and essentially “wasting people’s time”.

The Eighth Amendment says that “excessive bail shall not be required, nor excessive fines imposed, nor cruel and unusual punishments inflicted.” I could laugh if it weren’t such a blatant lie. Bail is disproportionately higher for people of color than for whites, as are the fines, and while cruel and unusual punishments may be subjective, I would argue that legalized slavery for a criminal population that is disproportionately comprised of Blacks and people of color AND murder by law enforcement before even reaching a judge BOTH qualify as cruel and unusual, particularly since it’s extremely notable how many white people, even accused or convicted of especially heinous crimes do not meet this fate, while a Black person could do so for merely moving wrong during a traffic stop.

The Thirteenth Amendment abolished slavery and involuntary servitude except as a punishment for crime. However, the only thing this changed for Blacks was the beginnings of racially motivated mass incarceration, starting from 1865 until the present.

The Fourteenth Amendment says that anyone born or naturalized in the United States is a citizen of the USA.  It also says that “no State shall make or enforce any law which shall abridge the privileges or immunities of citizens of the United States; nor shall any State deprive any person of life, liberty, or property, without due process of law; nor deny to any person within its jurisdiction the equal protection of the laws.”

There are 20 other Amendments as of 2020, but this Amendment alone is the root of the problem. Black Americans are just that- Americans, and yet, we are DENIED equal protection under the law. We are DEPRIVED OF LIFE, LIBERTY AND PROPERTY, without due process of law.

But people seem to forget that Blacks are American citizens, too. And so, they seek to preserve their peace and forget to care.

So, as I turn up my headphones to tune out my roommate’s irritatingly ironic assertions of oppression, I turn my attention to the places where I have a voice, to remind people that this movement is more than just a lofty idea or the overreaction of a group of people that’s too sensitive or hung up on the past. I remind them that the problem is that the actions and attitudes, the injustices and imbalanced systems are still happening NOW, in the present, mid-2020. That’s why we can’t stay silent. Why no one can. I use my influence to remind the world what those who came before me died to obtain:

“We will have to repent in this generation not merely for the hateful words and actions of the bad people, but for the appalling silence of the good people. Injustice anywhere is a threat to justice everywhere. The Negro's great stumbling block in the stride toward freedom is not the [blatant racist or the white supremacist] but the white moderate who is more devoted to order than to justice; who prefers a negative peace which is the absence of tension to a positive peace which is the presence of justice. Freedom is never voluntarily given by the oppressor; it must be demanded by the oppressed.”

- Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr., excerpted out of order from sections of a letter from Birmingham Jail, Alabama, 16 April 1963

I remind those who care to listen that I exist in this world, hated and unwelcome. My very existence is one of danger and risk, especially if I choose to be myself. For me, there is no place like home.

I remind the world that I can’t breathe, and that for me that’s not just a catchphrase; it’s not just a concept to use for merit mongering or fitting in. It’s the fear that chokes me, the anxiety that suffocates my hopes and dreams. For me, it’s a reality.

[grownups-are-the-real-monsters]

We’ve Got Tonight

Summary:  He’d managed to keep the secret to himself and away from his friends. Nobody questioned the Bruce Springsteen poster he remembered adding to his bedroom shortly after the summer. He just loved music and good ol’ Springsteen....The Boss was an American symbol...and a better one than Goddamn apple pie.

Ships: Reddie 

Inspired by this song: We’ve Got Tonight - Bob Seger 

Word Count: 7,353

It was late. God, it was really late. 

Would the noise of his screeching wheels wake them up? Richie couldn’t really decide. His long ass legs were crunched up against the side of his car so he could rest his elbow on the door. He sported a bemused sort of grin but their was something disturbingly distorted about it. It was through no illusion or mind-game. Just the simple fact that in his anxiety, Richie was pressing his chin hard into his open palm and crumpling his skin. 

The car seats were leather, originally they’d been an old kind of fabric. But that had been because his entire vehicle was actually new and shiny. The fabric seating suited his old and dusty piece of shit car. There’d been quite a few stains here and there which was mostly from the fact that he’d taken the console extension outta that one...so no cup-holders. But bye-bye disgusting and long past fixable console. He used to be forced to hold his steaming coffee every morning on his way to work which was never a smooth event. But as lady luck would have it, before he could replace the damn thing, Richie got himself a steady gig with a good flow of money. So the whole damn car changed.

He got a little smug about it too. It would’ve been hard not to. Nothing felt better than driving it on a sunny day to a job where people seemed to appreciate him. He’d drum his hands all over the wheel to the Beach Boys and think about the jokes he was going to tell. Of course, ideally, the material would be his own but...you gotta do what you gotta do to earn the money, huh? So he put up with it. He was succeeding that way and who knew if people would think he was funny all on his own? Why else would it be suggested he read outta someone else’s joke book repertoire? ‘He was class clown funny, not household name...stand-up comic funny’. He never was gonna let that comment go, it seemed. He regurgitated it all the damn time to remind himself that’s what outsiders thought. 

The Loser’s laughed. In fact, Ol’ Beverly Marsh almost choked on her dinner when he’d managed an impression. Man, that had made him feel good and it only spurred him on. But no amount of laughter or fond memories could make him really want to stay and do what Mike was talkin’ about. It did not outweigh the kind of memories buried deep inside him that triggered that hot load of vomit after the phone-call. 

The kind of memories that he wanted to stay buried. Needed, even.

Mike had been right-which was nothing knew apparently. Richie sighed, pushing his head back into the seat. He wanted to drive away. Leave Derry in his dust just like he’d done so long ago. He wouldn’t mind the trip. He actually really enjoyed road-trips. Before he’d shot down the high-way to get back here, Richie had breakfast at some shitty little truck-stop diner place. The waitress had tried to talk him into an apple pie for dessert....‘you wont regret it’ she’d said with a wink. He denied the offer but she still came back with the plate. ‘On the house’. The napkin she’d served it on had her number smeared across the width in blue pen. 

He usually kept those kinds of things, just never did anything with em’. He’d kid himself by saying it was a cheap shot and not the kind of way he’d liked to be hit on. But maybe it was more about the kind of person. 

Who was he kidding? What a damn joke. The minute he set his eyes upon Eddie fucking Kaspbrak again....he was faced with that other buried piece of trauma. 

It was about the person and he didn’t even fucking like apple pie. Who really wants fruit in their dessert anyway?

Richie smacked his forehead against the steering wheel as if that might knock the memories outta his head. But they lingered there still. 

He’d been such a moron. Overcompensating with dirty jokes and ‘pulling his pigtails’ because how else would a clueless kid flirt with someone he barely even knew he was flirting with? Eddie would be none the wiser if Richie messed with him. He’d just roll his eyes and bicker with him...not guessing for a second that Richie was dying a little every-time Eddie touched him. 

But what was in the past was in the past, right? He had always craved attention and laughter, so he had just been confusing the joy he got from Eddie’s for a ‘crush’. Simple. 

But more and more memories came to him when he had hit Derry. Begging himself to stop noticing things about other boys while he tried to pick out a damn box from the cereal aisle like a normal kid. But the boy by the Kix had given him a friendly smile and Richie’s stomach had flipped. Enough so that he picked out a box of Kix which was dumb because that cereal was shit. Was not sugary enough for any kid’s taste. 

He could remember the early days of his crush now. Laying on his stomach on the carpeted floor of the Kaspbrak bedroom. They’d usually be reading comics or some shit and Richie would notice the way Eddie’s lips moved even though he wasn’t reading out-loud. There’d be a wave of butterflies before an awful feeling of embarrassment would take over. He’d always feel ashamed and gross whenever Eddie would glance up at him, having been oblivious to his internal dilemma. So he’d shove it down and never talk about it. 

Which he’d done. 100% successfully too...though there had been a couple hiccups. A few traumatizing insults were thrown. But he’d managed to keep it to himself and away from his friends. Nobody questioned the Bruce Springsteen poster he remembered adding to his bedroom shortly after the summer. He just loved music and good ol’ Springsteen....The Boss was an American symbol...and a better one than Goddamn apple pie. 

Richie gagged a little and sat up once more, curling his hands tighter around the wheel. 

He’d really expected nothing to come of these memories because they were stupid and childish. And shit he didn’t even remember until he got into town. 

But then he strolled into that restaurant and his eyes found him immediately. Eddie Kaspbrak. All he had to do was look at him and despite having a good ass excuse...Richie had been wondering just how he managed without him. Any defense he had against this (which was none because he really assumed that it wasn’t a big deal) failed. In an instant, he was wrapped around Eddie’s finger once more. 

After all these fucking years Richie was still crazy about him. Absolutely gone on him. Which was just...another wonderful thing to add to the list of shitty things going on. 

He wasn’t sure what he was planning on doing, sitting in his car in the middle of the night with his bags still packed. But there was an obvious option that was teasing him. ‘Just drive away. Find a nice Rock station and drive off.’ 

But he couldn’t actually bring himself to do it. But he had shifted it to drive a few times only to go right back into park before he could actually move. He was starting to hate himself. 

At some point he was going to have to make a decision or sleep in his car. He stared at the stars hanging above his view and felt that sense of insignificance. Usually that would be a daunting feeling but tonight...it was kind of comforting. Because hell, his life was such a small dot in the universe. For the first split second since returning to Derry, Richie didn’t feel the weight of the world on his shoulders. Nothing fucking mattered. 

But he could die tomorrow. Richie sighed for the millionth time and clasped his hand around the door handle. There was tonight but...after that? Who knew. Man, he wouldn’t be surprised if Pennywise danced on over to the outside of his car. Waiting to corner him. 

His stomach dropped. ‘Shit, if he died...’ Richie audibly hiccuped because ‘What a miserable last few years.’ Barely a day back ‘home’, surrounded by strangers who were really his best friends...and he was already dreading the fucking loneliness waiting for him if he made it out alive. ‘Which was the scarier option here, huh?’

Eddie’s face popped back into his mind and now was not the time to get himself worked up....not in that way. Richie shook his head and immediately thought about the ol’ dirty magazine that he used to have under his childhood bed just to get rid of that kind of thought. Which....was so strange. That was a defense mechanism so familiar to his younger years in Derry. Man, he hadn’t thought about the women in those pages in years. Yet the idea to cover up those dirty thoughts with that particular magazine was purely instinctual in the moment. God, everything was so strange. 

And he was wasting gas. Richie sighed, turning his key and admitting to himself that as scared as he was right now, he could not pull the trigger and leave. But he was sort of hoping that he could work up the courage later on. The radio cut off in the middle of a good song and he hurled himself out of the vehicle. He tried to bury his previous idea of a threat waiting for him outside and quickly took the bag from out the back window and trudged back to the Townhouse. 

There was no way in Hell that he was gonna get any sleep unless he unloaded the pile of shit that were the thoughts swimming in his head. His eyes fell upon Bill’s room, he remembered him being an excellent shoulder to cry on. Sturdy...and broad now. 

Richie swallowed and set his beg against the wall, taking a few steps towards Bill’s door before realizing that he really didn’t want to embarrass himself in front of him. Another oddly familiar feeling. 

He backed off and turned around. He ignored the brief but present way his mind flashed with ‘Stanley’ as an option because it hurt and unless he could contact his fucking ghost...he was outta luck. 

As he turned back, unsure of where he was really going, he spotted Eddie’s door and halted. It felt like he got punched in the gut or something just from seeing the number on the door. He hated himself sometimes. 

He really wanted to see Eddie right now. He stepped forward with purpose only to freeze once again because-‘What the Hell do I think I’m doing?’.

He had worked himself up into such a state that he was sort of afraid of what might pour out of his mouth just from locking eyes with Eddie. ‘But maybe that was a good thing.’ Richie stepped forward again. Maybe he could just allow all his built-up feelings to escape him and be done with it before it was too late. 

‘But that would mean actually admitting to shit’ Richie moved back once more and curled his hands, pressing his nails into his palms with frustration. He felt like an idiot but damn, he was now aching to talk to Eddie...even just to make fun of each other. Something, anything. 

He raised his first up to knock. He was just planning on maybe unloading his nerves and nothing more because he couldn’t handle looking like an idiot. He barely noticed that he was mumbling a very poor Stevie Wonder impression he’d been working on to himself . ‘I just knocked... to say I love you.’ His voice was soft and sing-songy-

The door opened before Richie had the chance to make contact and it wasn’t gentle either. The heavy door swung open and shocked both men enough for each of them to leap backwards. 

“Fuck! Don’t ya know how to knock?” Richie smacked his hand to his chest and sighed. 

Eddie’s brow quirked with a touch of confusion and amusement. “You’re in the hallway, Rich.” 

The taller man stood up straighter and looked around like he’d forgotten his surroundings. Pale yellow wallpaper with freckles of brown designs were swallowing them whole. ‘Yup that’s the hall’ Richie shoved his glasses back up the slope of his nose and nodded. “Oh yeah.” 

Eddie had the audacity to do one of those closed-mouth chuckles and lean on the door-frame. 

‘I could die tomorrow...’ Richie swallowed. 

“Did...-did you want something?” Eddie asked, glancing around his room with that cautious eye. Before Richie could answer, Eddie’s eyes landed on something Richie assumed was gross just by his facial expression. “Man, This place could stand to be deep cleaned.” 

Richie opened his mouth.

“Seriously. A lot of disgusting people have been in here before me.” His nose twitched which was something he often did. It inflicted Richie with that same warm sense of comfort he’d had when they were all at the restaurant. 

“That’s funny. I said that same thing to your mother-”

“Ha ha. You seekin’ me out to make these jokes now, asshole? I can see if we’re all hanging out but to come to my door-” 

Richie shoved his hands into his pockets and raised his brow with amusement while Eddie worked himself up. “No, Eds. That’s obviously not why I’m here.” He chuckled and stood awkwardly at the door while Eddie shuffled about his room. ‘How else was he supposed to let out all his pent up rage and anxiety?’ Richie tilted his chin down and rolled his lips together to keep from grinning because ‘Fuck. Even now...Eddie just gets to me.’

“Why did you come here, exactly?” He held kicked one of the blankets off his bed and sighed. He blinked at the thing like it depressed him before he quirked his head to glance at his friend. “And why are you just standing there? It’s creepy. You used to invite yourself into my room all the time, what’s the problem now-?” 

They both paused and when Richie moved to just change the topic with a joke or something, Eddie snapped his fingers. “Yeah...you did do that. I remember.” He smiled, the kind of smile that was riddled with nostalgia and joy. 

He just looked so damn proud of himself for remember it. Richie slowly strolled inside and hoped the giddiness wasn’t showing on his face. “Yeah. Getting to the second floor window was not an easy feat for a gangly kid like me, you know?” He rubbed a curled finger under his nose and unearthed a shy sorta giggle that hadn’t been used in years. He intended to add more to the story but found himself choking on the words when Eddie curled onto his bed, legs in the criss-cross position while his hands clasped in his lap. He looked up at Richie with such a genuinely relieved look. A look that said that if Richie went on, Eddie would be happily lifted from the horrors of their lives events. Just for this impermanent moment. It was something he would’ve killed for as a kid, to know that he was actually providing enjoyable entertainment. But right now it was suddenly too much responsibility for him so Richie clamped his mouth shut. 

Eddie paused for a minute, as if giving Richie a chance to go on if he wanted to and the want for him to continue was clear in Eddie’s eyes...but Richie remained shockingly silent. “So, did you want something?” 

Richie swung his hands back and forth a few times before awkwardly slapping them together and clasping them over his chest. “Yeah, sorry to bother you so late...I just...” He took a deep breath and forced himself to chill out and take a seat on the chair nearby. 

Eddie scooted to the edge of his bed looking a little concerned which was only furthering Richie’s embarrassment. 

“Where were you going, by the way?” Richie stuck his thumb out to point at the door where they’d first scared each other to death just a few moments ago. “I know you have a weak bladder so if it was the bathroom, this conversation can wait-” 

Eddie rolled his eyes. “Of course you remember that about me.” He scoffed and shuffled on the bed. “No asshole. I was just...” He waved his hand around and Richie began to think that maybe he knew what Eddie was gonna do. 

“You were gonna leave too, huh? You put your-what like ten bags?-in your car earlier? You were gonna get outta dodge, huh?” Richie was teasing but he knew as soon as it came out of his mouth that Eddie was offended. 

“No. I wasn’t leaving. I was just gonna go for a walk.” 

“Alone? In the middle of the night? I don’t know, Eds. Doesn’t sound like you-” 

“I just needed to clear my head...and honestly, I’ll start overthinking all this shit if I’m not constantly moving at the speed of light.” Eddie chuckled but he meant it. The man had never been good at settling himself down. He crossed his arms and sighed. “Anyway, you still haven’t told me why you’re here...?” 

The air in the room grew thinner, at least to Richie who was trying very hard not to appear so nervous. He sucked in his breath and leaned his forearms onto his thighs. “I haven’t really decided on a reason for showing up yet-...” He glanced up at Eddie’s watchful stare and that same damn thought came up. ‘I could die tomorrow.’ 

There was so much Richie wanted to say but he barely comprehended it all himself. “How’s your life been?” 

The question seemed to throw his friend completely off his rhythm. Eddie sat up straighter and thought about it for a few seconds. “I mean...-it’s been successful-” 

“Are you happy?” Richie blurted before realizing how invasive he must’ve sounded. He scooted back and fixed his own posture. “Sorry. I’m not so great at...asking appropriate questions. I’m sure you remember that.” He laughed, swiping a finger under his nose again. Eddie opened his mouth but Richie had stopped looking at him. 

“I only ask because...I don’t...I don’t think I’ve been very happy.” He was still laughing but it was edging close to self-deprecating. “I didn’t even really notice that until I got here. In Derry. The most miserable town that I’ve ever seen. Isn’t that fucking funny?” 

Eddie cocked his head to the side. “Rich-?”

“Being with you guys again has been just about the most genuinely happy that I’ve been in years. Paired right up with the most scared I’ve ever been but...I digress.” He sighed and finally looked up at Eddie again. “I don’t know what’s gonna happen tomorrow but I’m trying to decide if it’s worse to die or to have to go back to...an empty life, y’know?” 

“Don’t say that Rich-”

“It’s true.” He shrugged. “But it’s stupid-...it’s fine. I didn’t mean to come dump this all on you.” He slapped his knees with a tiny grin and stood. He planned on leaving before he could make an even bigger fool of himself but Eddie had crawled to the other end of the bed with his good ol’ lightening speed and grabbed his arm with a startling amount of strength. 

“It’s fine. Richie...we’re all freaking out here.” He tugged his arm in a genuinely concerned way that nearly broke Richie’s heart then and there. “I’d like to talk some more, if that’s ok? This is a lot.” 

Ahhh that was a trick Richie remembered too well. He wasn’t a person who liked to talk about himself and he never was. But if Eddie ever detected a problem, he used to like to pretend to turn the conversation around because actually he wanted to talk. But it was just a way to allow Richie to feel like it was ok to open up because it wasn’t really all about him. ‘No-seriously, I want to talk about it Richie’. Eddie used to say. 

But damn, he was gonna fall for it again. “Ok, Kaspbrak.” He shrugged and shoved Eddie over to take up half the bed. He most definitely ignored the man’s triumphant grin. He picked at a loose thread on his shirt.

Eddie tilted his head back, chin pointed to the sky but when he did one of those breathy sighs, it slowly fell forward again. And then he turned to look at his friend. Richie felt some alarms going off in his head. It was strangely too intimate. “I’m married, have a good job, I’m successful...” He trailed off “But...there’s something strangely unsatisfying about it all. Like you said...it didn’t completely stand out to me until I got here.” 

Richie bit his lip. “Any idea why?”

“Well, Mike did say the longer we stay-” 

“No, no...I mean...why it’s not satisfying?” Richie hoped to anything that would listen that he didn’t sound annoying again. 

Eddie thought that over. “I don’t really know.” 

Richie felt a flutter of disappointment that he couldn’t quite place. 

“Myra...she’s just like my mom, y’know?” He scratched under his chin and gave a bitter laugh. “I can really pick em’, huh?” He bumped their arms together. 

“Jesus, Eds. You got some pointy frickin’ elbows.” the little insults would honestly never stop but Eddie didn’t seem to mind much. He just dug his elbow in harder. 

“Would you stop calling me that?” 

“Oh, you love it Eds.” He pushed Eddie’s elbow away again and held back a chuckle as he pushed his glasses up. 

“You ever think about contacts?” Eddie’s voice was suddenly soft and curious. It oddly felt somewhat like a sleepover. Not that Richie thought he could stay-no! Just...that same sort of hushed energy was there between them as they sat on the bed together. He hummed. 

“Why ya askin’? Think it’s a bad look?” He laughed but there was a strange insecure tone bleeding into it. 

“No...” He shrugged and turned away for a few seconds and Richie was highly aware he wanted the attention back. 

“I had a guy once...I was on the bus, right? And this dude-took my fucking glasses off and stepped on em’” He waved his arm and made sure to leave enough of the story desired. Eddie’s eyebrows crinkled when their faces met again. 

“What did you do to him?” 

Richie rolled his eyes. “He’d been playing the saxophone. So I started to do that thing where you...pretend to play?” He moved his hands up to his mouth and made a sound that more closely represented a trumpet. “I think you used to whistle like that? With your hands up...” He did it again but whistled this time. Eddie grinned. “Anyway, not important to the story.” He shoved his hands back down. 

“So he got pretty upset-”

“Understandably so.” Eddie felt the need to add with a cheeky little grin and Richie clicked his tongue. 

“Yeah. And so he just sets the instrument down and thunders over. He literally just reaches out and...” Richie took off his glasses and illustrated his point. “No hesitation but he goes right back to playing. And he’s like-staring me down-not blinking- the rest of the time he’s playing right? Only I can’t fucking see it cause he’s halfway down the bus and my glasses are shattered. But the dude on my right is describing it to me.”

Eddie is full on laughing and Richie is in minutes bliss. “Sounds like a weird guy.” 

“Yeah. But I like that kinda stuff. Make for good bits...” He sighed. “I mean, for a person who maybe writes their own material.” He added with a bitter tone. 

“Why don’t you...? Write your own stuff, I mean?” Eddie rubbed his finger against the side of his nose. His voice got that sleepover tone again. 

“Ehhhh well.” Richie shrugged, not sure how to answer him. "That’s show business for you baby.” He did some kinda funky old man voice but bled it back into his own “Nah, I mean...just kinda got told one day that I was more of a class clown then a stand-up comic. So if I ever wanted to be a name then I’d better switch it out.” 

He pretended that he wasn’t bothered and he figured maybe Eddie won’t notice. Hell, it’d been a long time and they barely remembered each other but he knew. 

“Maybe when this is all over, you can remedy that. Don’t let it get to your head but you always made me laugh.” He poked his arm gently. “I bet it helps you fix some of that emptiness you mentioned.” He was putting on that gentle tone like he was a bit hesitant to bring that up again. 

Richie’s stomach dropped a tiny bit. “Maybe some of it.” He wanted to say ‘Life doesn’t work that way, Eds. I can’t just pull that off’ but he just rolled his lips together. 

"What else do you think is causing it?” 

Richie scoffed. “Doctor K is a therapist now, huh?” He bumped their arms together again but his friend only rolled his eyes. 

“Shut-up asshole. I’m just trying to help.” He bit back but softened down again almost immediately. “It’s a concerning thing to hear from someone you care about, is all.” His shoulders shrugged and dragged against the wall. 

“Eddie we didn’t even remember each other yesterday.” 

“That’s not fair and you know it.” Eddie scowled.

“Yeah, sorry.” Richie sighed, his shoulders gradually coming down for a moment’s relaxation. The room went silent again and he found his eyes tracing the furniture and objects thrown about the place. Eddie’s jacket was neatly caressing the top of the desk chair but his two of his suitcases were chaotically opened and laying on the floor. “Man, twenty-seven years. Where’d the time go?” Richie mumbled, mostly to himself. It was the strangest thing...to feel like time had passed them too quickly yet not truly being able to recall much of those old fuzzy memories which seemed so far gone. 

“I don’t know.” Eddie glanced at him again. 

Richie felt a mixture of feelings but mostly....‘To quote Paul Simon, Still crazy after all these years...'

“How much do you remember, Eds?” He heard himself ask. That pitiful sense of curiosity rose inside of him again. 

Eddie stopped fiddling with his hands and paused for thought, his face twisting a little bit. “Right now?...Mostly just feelings. More so than specific memories, you know?” He shrugged, spinning his thumbs around each other. 

Richie swallowed. “Yeah-yeah, me too.” He was searching for more of Eddie’s answer before the man could even speak again. He watched the way his eyes fell down to his hands whenever he got nervous. “Being scared shitless is the big one at the moment, I’m guessing?”

Eddie nodded but didn’t look to please about it. 

“Anything else?” Richie hoped he didn’t sound desperate but there was something he wanted to have an answer for. 

“Love...for you guys?” Eddie added, looking like it was maybe embarrassing him a little bit to be saying it out-loud. Richie really didn’t want to look like an asshole by asking for something more specifically about him. So maybe it was best to just let it go and move on back to his room to get a good power nap in before they went and did whatever the hell Mike was trying to explain. 

‘But I could fucking die tomorrow.’ That was his mantra, wasn’t it? “Eddie. I got to tell ya something, man.” 

Eddie shuffled a bit closer, bringing up his knee and smiling softly. “I’m assuming it’s the reason you came here?” 

Richie nodded and took a deep breath. He could tell it was unsettling his friend a bit to see him so serious. “I just wanna say all...-all the shit that’s on my mind so please don’t interrupt-” 

“I won’t.” 

Richie raised a brow, a tiny smirk on his face despite his overwhelming nerves. 

“Oops, sorry. Not anymore, promise.” Eddie held his hands up in mock surrender. 

“Ok.” Richie smoothed the palms of his hands down his jeans and tried to work up enough courage to go on. “Listen...Mike was saying that the longer we stay, the more we remember, right?-” Richie couldn’t help but tease Eddie a bit by pausing. 

Just as he suspected, Eddie had some sort of internal struggle of wanting to respond but remembering that Richie asked him not to interrupt. 

But when he realized Richie was just messing with him, he rolled his eyes. “Keep going, asshole.”

He chuckled and reached out to playfully pinch his arm. “Anyway, part of the reason that I’m being such a downer right now is that yeah I’ve realized how fucking lonely it is back home but I’m also sorta remembering why that might be.” 

He stopped again because to be completely honest, he wasn’t entirely sure how he was going to continue this. 

“You and me. Do you remember what we were like?”

Eddie rolled his lips together and smirked. It made Richie’s heart flutter just from the sight of it. “Yeah. We were annoying.” There was a great sense of fondness in his tone. “All the bickering and shit. You loved to torture me, don’t think I forgot that.” Eddie giggled. An actual real giggle that Richie couldn’t believe. 

He opened his mouth, expecting this to be hard. He expected that he’d have to choke the words up but when face with Eddie’s sincere joy...it wasn’t that bad. “Yeah, Eds. I really fucking liked you.” 

Eddie stopped suddenly, his body stiffening and Richie tried not to take it personally. “What do you mean?” 

“Look...I know it’s the middle of the Goddamn night and you probably want to go back to sleep but...” Richie moved his eyes to the ceiling because he’d sure look like an idiot if there were tears. “This is all so overwhelming. I couldn’t have even recognized your name yesterday and now...” He gestured to the man with his open palm before letting it fall back into his lap. 

He pushed his glasses up his nose and chuckled bitterly. “I had the biggest crush on you, Eddie.” He waved his hands because this was starting to become more funny to him. Eddie staring at him with blank confusion, his bubbling nerves and the fact that a murder clown was responsible for so much pain in his life. “It’s all coming back to me the more I look at ya...Man, that’s rich, isn’t it?” 

Eddie’s face was the picture of complete confusion. “You had a crush on...me?”

Richie nodded. “Yeah! Oh man, I used to...like....you know...” He paused, wiggling his fingers in the air as if trying to scramble together a memory. He snapped his fingers. “Listen to Springsteen or some shit alone in my room and think about you and me runnin’ from Derry together and being...I dunno like a couple? It’s lame and a little too ‘Jack & Diane’ for my taste now but I did that. Can you believe it?” He thought about that perfect symbol of an American teen couple from Mellencamp’s famous tune and a flash of some strapping statue came to his mind. He thought it might be that of the ol’ legendary Paul Bunyon fella in town. A deep and awful feeling of fear overtook him for a second but he couldn’t quite remember why.

He clicked his tongue with a laugh, feeling heat in his cheeks like some silly kid. “I’d do all that but then I’d see you and...tell you I fucked your mom and tease you because I was a little shit.” 

Eddie was quiet...very quiet for a few seconds. “I didn’t know that you were-” 

“Yeah. That’d be because I didn’t want anyone to know.” Richie cut him off and regretted a bit of the bitterness tone. “It was a secret.” He rubbed his forehead. “I was just...since I can’t remember it all, I wondered if...” He stopped because he was far too embarrassed to continue.  

“Oh.” Eddie grabbed his own ankle and softly gasped. 

“I’m sorry, Eds. I’m just gonna...” He stuck his thumb over his shoulder and pointed to the door before hoping off the bed. He barely made it an inch before his arm was snagged and he was pulled back with that same strength. He fell back onto the bed.

“No, Rich. Don’t leave. We gotta talk. You can’t just walk out after that.” 

Richie felt his throat close a little at the idea of Eddie letting him down easy. He’d really rather just walk out and pretend this didn’t even happen. “I don’t have anything else to say. That was...it. And it was way too much.” He shook his head and scooted backwards when Eddie shuffled over. 

He immediately wanted to defend himself. “It’s just that we could all very well end up dead tomorrow and I just had to let this out before...everything goes down. I don’t want to die with all this shit still built up, you know? I just needed to know if it was just me which it clearly was. So I’m good now-” He tried to smile but Eddie was obviously not going to buy that. 

“Richie, I’m gonna talk now, ok?” He teased but it was obvious that he was worried he might not be able to get a word in. So, Richie shut it. 

But things went quiet again as Eddie played with the loose blanket threads between their fingers. “Eds, you gonna start or-?” 

He expected the man to slap him playfully again or just straight up tell him to shut his mouth but instead, Eddie just glanced up and sighed so delicately amused and fond. He grinned and moved his hand from the blanket to flick Richie’s hand. “I can’t remember if I ever thought about...us like that, you know?” Eddie tilted his head and moved his eyes to their hands. He continued to lightly tap Richie’s skin as he spoke. “But I can’t for sure say that I never did. There’s something so familiar about...” He gestured to the space between them. He had that unsure look on his face and Richie nodded a few times.

“Yeah, that’s-...It’s what I’m feeling too.” He felt himself smile, it was hopelessly admiring. Eddie opened and closed his mouth a few times before pulling his hand back so he could nervously play with his thumbs like before. “What’s the matter? Is it too much? Should I go?” 

Eddie bit the inside of his cheek. “No, it’s just-” He shook his head and leaned back on the wall. His palm moved to rub against his neck, another nervous tick. “I wanted to maybe try something but I don’t want to end up...leading you on or something.” 

Richie almost let out one of those breathy little sighs of complete yearning but was able to stop himself. “I wouldn’t mind.” He blurted but Eddie just crossed his arms.

“You’d think that but-” 

“I gotta know, Eds. For sure. If this helps you...come to a conclusion then by all means, go for it.” 

“You sure about that?” 

He nodded because he’d do anything that Eddie wanted. Richie geared himself up for Eddie to decided against and he’d take that because it was probably the right thing to do. 

But Eddie shuffled closer, knees planted firmly on the bed so he could lift himself just slightly above Richie. The other man was so deliriously happy about it that he could hardly move. Eddie tilted Richie’s chin up with one finger and brought their lips together. It was soft and a little unsure of itself in the beginning but then that one finger under his chin turned into Eddie’s whole hands caressing the sides of his face with one very pleasing slow glide motion against his stubble. 

Richie wasn’t sure how long it lasted but he had to stop himself from chasing it when Eddie pulled back and fell back onto the bed. 

“Wow.” was all the man could say and Richie had to agree with that sentiment. Eddie leaned back on the wall and shook his head. “That’s what that shit is supposed to feel like...ok.” He was speaking to himself, in that speedy little voice of his and Richie felt a tug in his chest. “I don’t think-...I mean...I never thought about that. With Myra it’s, well nothing like that.” 

“Are you ok over there, man?” Richie chuckled but he was still rather dizzy and giddy. ‘It was stupid.’

Eddie looked back at Richie like he’d nearly forgotten he was there. He reached over to his nightstand, opened his drawer and pulled out his inhaler. Richie stopped his urge to roll his eyes when he took a puff. “I have a wife.” 

Richie looked down, eyes a little misty. “Yeah. I know. I’m sorry.” 

Eddie crawled back over and took his old seat right next to Richie again. “Rich, I’m glad you came tonight.” 

Richie put on an expression that clearly displayed that he didn’t quite believe that. 

“I’m not kidding, asshole. And I’m not just trying to spare your feelings.” His voice was tiny and soft. “I told you before...there’s been something so unsatisfying about my life. I just couldn’t put my finger on it, you know?” 

Richie’s stomach was turning from pure nerves and hopeless excitement. He took Eddie’s hand so quickly that it surprised even himself. “I don’t know what’s gonna happen to us tomorrow Eds, that shit is terrifying.” He squeezed their grip. “But we have tonight. That’s something, right?” 

Eddie nodded so Richie softly moved his hand to his cheek. “I’ll do anything you want. You want me to leave and I’ll go. You want me to pretend this didn’t happen, I will. A hundred percent, alright?” he stroked the side of his face and Eddie nodded again. “But...I can stay, if you for some reason think that I’m worth it.” 

Eddie didn’t look too pleased with the self-deprecation but he spoke a strong “I want you to stay” and kept his eyes locked on Richie’s. It was enough to elicit an involuntary freakin’ giggle on Richie’s part. 

He was embarrassed for a solid second or two when Eddie laughed but it was remedied when the man ruffled Richie’s hair. “Fuck. I can’t believe I forgot you.” He narrowed his eyes and gave him an appreciative stare which almost made Richie blush. 

He leaned in and they found their way back to gentle kisses and hesitant touching. It was a comforting and warm feeling that neither of them really wanted to let go of. 

“Eddie, man.” Richie backed off for a few seconds. “I know that you probably got plans and all for...dealing with all this clown business. But I was thinkin’, you know for these last few seconds-” He laughed, making fun of how much of an idiot he was going to sound. “How great would it be if we just...” He gestured his hand towards the window and Eddie followed with that puppy-dog expression. “What if we just ran off, the two of us?” 

“You mean just leave...in the middle of the night?” Eddie wiggled a bit from his position on Richie’s lap. 

Richie nodded and closed his eyes when Eddie laid his palms against his neck. “It’s just a thought. I mean, It’s stupid. Horribly stupid. And not a well thought out plan, I know but...” He opened his eyes again and found Eddie’s eyes which were wide and shaky. It broke him a little. “The two of us in one car for several hours...what could go wrong, huh?” He laughed but Eddie only frowned. “I ruined it, didn’t I?” 

“No-no, You didn’t ruin it.” Eddie chuckled, moving his hand up to brush some of Richie’s hair back. 

“I’m such an idiot for even suggesting it. You got a life and-I’m just being really clingy.” Richie tried to shift Eddie off of him but the man wasn’t allowing it. “It’s just that I’m really fucking happy right now and I don’t want that to go away, you know?” 

“I know.” Eddie agreed. “I’d love to just pack my shit and leave. This is all too much to handle and I’m not sure I can face that clown again, Rich-”

“You can. I know you.” Richie blurted and Eddie smiled. “I’d just rather you didn’t-we didn’t.” He shrugged and Eddie pushed up his glasses for him. 

“I’d love to run out in the middle of the night with you on what-? at least a half tank of gas?” 

“Oh, much less. I hate stopping for gas.” Richie chuckled and Eddie licked his lips. 

“But you know, as well as I do, that we gotta stay.” He knitted his fingers together against the back of Richie’s neck and sighed. 

“You’re always right. I remember that too.” Richie scowled and Eddie kissed his forehead. 

“But it’s like you said...we’ve got tonight-”

“The suns gonna be up soon-”

“We can make it last, Rich.” He sounded so sure of himself that Richie had to believe him. 

They fell together once more and sleepily melted into the bed as they explored each other. Richie had been right, the sun would be creeping up very soon and it would be time to move on. But for now, the men were just enjoying their time alone together. 

When they took the time to rest, Richie curled up against the smaller man which might’ve been extremely funny to him if he weren’t so desperate for touch, Eddie spoke up. “What about after the clown business?” He whispered, dragging his fingers down Richie’s arm which was wrapped around his waist. 

Richie picked up his head from where it had been resting on his chest. “What about it?” 

“You and me...? I mean, what if we...” Eddie paused. 

“I’d be willing, if you were.” Richie didn’t want to answer as fast as he did but ‘man oh man’ he was just about dying to scream a loud ‘yes’. 

“It’s risky...and I’d know.” Eddie laughed at his own little joke before pursing his lips. “Can I give you an answer after all the scary shit is through?” 

Richie chuckled and nodded against Eddie’s chest. “Yeah. ‘Course you can.” 

They laid together in comfortable silence for what felt like a long time. Occasionally, Eddie would run his hands through Richie’s hair and drag his fingers up and down his arm. When Richie hesitantly snuggled closer, Eddie dropped his hand to smoothly remove his glasses for him. “Don’t wanna risk breaking them again, huh?” 

Richie was blissfully drifting to sleep.

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

The night had ended and tomorrow came, bring with it some of the worst trauma Richie could imagine. And he never did get an answer from Eddie before...

Richie desperately tried to remember the good times while he re-carved their initials on the bridge. But he bitterly kept thinking about how Eddie never even knew that he did this. He’d been right before. They did have that night. And that night only. 

He finished his work on the ‘E’ and admired it for a few seconds. 

He’d remember that night for the rest of his life. Not only had he been given the chance to lay with the one he loved but...he didn’t feel fucking ashamed about it. And maybe one day, if it wasn’t too painful, he could stop longing for love lost...and find it within his heart to search for it again. 

[thetigershymn]

The Way Things Are Gonna Be From Now On (And Why I’m Back And Shit)

Part Two: The Way Things Are Gonna Be From Now On

(a repost)

Sit your asses down, kids, we gotta have a talk.

See, I can’t talk about how this shit is gonna roll without talking about why I left Tumblr to begin with.

Plot fucking twist: turns out you fucks are the maladjusted ones and I’m the mature adult. I fucking know, right? Blew my mind too.

Basically, shit started to get good for me, right? You know, you read part one. You know how that went down. Islands and shit. Anyway, part of that was like, a fuuuuuuuuuckton of high grade triple-A-plus primetime therapy. Fucking years of it. I’m a model citizen now. I’m the dependable one. No shit, someone told me that a while back, I’m the dependable one. Fucking times sure have changed.

I kid. Anyway. At a certain point in the evolution of every hot mess, there comes a knife’s edge moment. Things coalesce, and the realization is had that two choices lay before you. You can seize recovery with both hands – that phrase has deeply symbolic and vital personal meaning for me, it’s literally my name – and you can decide to GROW THE FUCK UP, stop being a giant pissbaby crying about how shit a hand life dealt you, and stand up and do something to actually fix your life instead of just complaining about how unfair your situation is. Or you can wallow in your illness for the rest of eternity, using it as an excuse, and embracing misery because it’s the only thing that makes you feel special. 

I reached that moment, through Ares. And I decided that I was NOT, in fact, addicted to being unhappy, and I DID, in fact, want to be not-unhappy, and I WAS, in fact, willing to put in the work to make that happen. And lo and behold, it started to happen. Wonders of modern medicine. Science is amazing. 

But then something else started to happen, too. Something I hadn’t planned for. I saw the toxicity leave my psychology, I saw the scar tissue across my psyche healing over and fading away, I felt Actual Human Joy Emotion, and then I looked around….and I saw everyone around me still surrounded by that black miasmic soulsucking cloud of misery that I was slowly crawling away from. I saw my enemies for what they were: meaningless dumbasses caught up in their own fucked up shit who had no real impact on my life. I saw my friends gathered around spending all their days stagnating in their own filth, blind to it as they preened about their superiority to all the lesser beings around them. I saw my loved ones still clinging to that deepseated addiction to being unhappy that I was trying so hard to dig out of my own heart. Things around me crystallized, I saw my surroundings more clearly than I had in years, and I realized I was just…..tired. So, so tired. I just didn’t care. About any of it. And I didn’t have time for it. Things were taking off for me for the first time in my entire life, and I just didn’t have time for anyone around me who was content to stand still.

So I left them behind. I left them behind in person, I left them behind over the phone, I left them behind online. Friends, significant other, family, acquaintances, whoever. Whereever I saw that happening in my life, I just…let them go.

I’ll go ahead and give you a moment to be shocked that there’s a lot of useless toxicity on tumblr. Go on, I’ll wait. 

But Solo!! You’re on Tumblr RIGHT NOW!! The misery cloud will swoop in and eat your soul again!!!!!!

Nah, bro, it won’t. We ain’t playing that game again. 

So here’s the new laws of the fucking land. These aren’t for you to follow, mind you. They’re for me to follow. You’ll notice some recurring themes.

1. None of this matters. 

Literally none of this. Tumblr is not and has never been the real world. I knew that back then, too, but I’m done being fucking quiet about this fact. All y’all? You stop existing when I walk away from the computer. Y’all bask and wallow in your complex codes of moral purity that only exist on tumblr, your shoulds and shouldn’ts, your shunnings, your manufactured obligations, whatever. I don’t care. I literally….I don’t care. Don’t like me, go away. Don’t like my blog, don’t follow it. Don’t like what I said, don’t read it. I’m not answerable to you, and I don’t care about trying to deduce the delicate nuances of your subculture’s societal mores and taboos, and if I anger your little internet godlings by crossing the wrong one, I don’t care about that either.

2. We aren’t friends.

We can be friendly, sure. I’m a friendly person, ask anyone. Well…maybe not anyone. But we can be friendly. We can be fun internet buddies, even. But…you don’t know me. I don’t know you. There’s a whole wide life out there I have that you will never see. Y’all need to be better about remembering that than y’all were last time, because I’m done feeling bad about leaving one of y’all behind if you don’t suit my life.

3. I don’t really care about co-religionists, honestly.

I could be the only hellenic polytheist on the planet for all I care. I could be the only Ares dedicant. It’s nice to compare notes and all, or chat, or whatever, and I’m more than willing to help someone out or give some advice or share some experience. I’ve been around for a while. But you, none of you, literally not a one of you is my priority, either in life or in this blog. My religion is about the gods, and one god especially. My religion is not about community. So…..yeah man, I’ll be helpful, sure, happy to be so. But I’m not obligated to do fucking ANYTHING for you I don’t want to, and I’m not answerable to what you think I should do or be or say as a hellenic polytheist or as a pagan. I’m not your fucking mentor and you’re not my fucking priest.

4. Blah, blah, blah.

Let me be really clear about this, because this is the part people are going to really, really struggle with. If it’s from before the posting of this fucking post, February 23, 2020, I don’t fucking want to hear about it. I don’t owe you shit, I’m not explaining shit, I’m not responding to shit, I’m not justifying shit, nothing. Boohoohoo I’m problematic because four years ago I called someone whose name I’ve probably (definitely) forgotten a moron and it hurt their feelings and now they piss into a jar with my name on it and call it a hex or whatever. Do tumblr witches still do the pee jar thing? I don’t remember. Whatever. I don’t care what wrong you’ve decided I committed, I don’t care even if I was actually wrong. I don’t care if something I say now contrasts with something I said three years ago so I’m a hypocrite or whatever. I don’t care whether you think people can change. I don’t care even if I haven’t changed. I’m not putting up with it if it’s from before me coming back to tumblr. I’m just going to laugh at you and hopscotch my ass away. Get over it, yo. So….I’m not going to be going through and purging old posts on my old blog, I’m not going to be ~hiding the evidence~ or whatever the fuck you want to accuse me of. I’m just not going to humor your dumb ancient bullshit. Sucks to be you, chick from four years ago who’s still holding a grudge against me because I made fun of her.

5. I’m not here to waste my time.

Those of you who know me offline know so very well how SHEER FUCKING INFAMOUS I am for walking away from conversations midthought. We’ll be talking, I’ll lose interest, and hey, that’s it, I’m done. No goodbye, no winding down the conversation, nope. We’re done, you’ve lost me. Guess what, not only am I not going to correct that behavior, we’re fucking porting that shit to Tumblr. I’m done with time wasters. I’m done with conversations I don’t want to be a part of. I’m done with arguments that serve no tangible need in my life. Don’t fucking @ me with your bullshit, or your drama, or your petty dumb shit. Because I am definitely, definitely sitting there on the other end of that conversation doing a cost-benefit analysis of what I think will be the possible positive outcome of interacting with you vs the possible negative outcome, and if you fail that assessment, I ain’t wasting my time on whatever you’re bitching at me about.

6. I actually really do hate Tumblr.

Gone are the days of lol fun tumblr meme bro and the ages of ooh cool fandom gifset my dude. I hate this fucking site on a fucking gut level and I don’t like to be here. The only reason I’m back is because I think I can use it for my ~pet project~. Which means…..yep. This is finally, finally a religion-only blog. 

[makeste]

BnHA Chapter 003: Superhero Academy Entrance Exam

Chapter 3 of my not-actually-live liveblog of Boku no Hero Academia! And I have to say, this one is my favorite chapter so far. We’ve got new characters, we’ve got weird video game point challenges, and we’ve got a new crowning moment of awesome for our protagonist! All this, and a guy with the power of jeans. What more could I ask for in life.

Notes: As of posting this I’ve read up through chapter 6 of the manga and watched episodes 1-5 of the anime. My comments (aside from ETAs), however, are from my initial readthrough of the chapter and are unedited. And despite residing here on tumblr where BnHA is a trending tag like every week, I somehow continue to remain almost totally unspoiled (boy that feels like I’m jinxing it).

hey it’s some random speech bubbles just spitting out facts about U.A.! how convenient and helpful

damn, they only accept 1 in 300 people... that’s a 0.33% acceptance rate. I’m pretty sure even Harvard accepts like 5 or 6% of its applicants, so this is... yikes

All Might magnanimously declined the People’ Choice Award lmao

“Best Jeanist.” oh my god. for years I’ve thought Eiichiro Oda was hands-down the best mangaka when it came to creating off-the-wall new characters. but this character’s name is Best Jeanist and he’s wearing a turtleneck denim jacket and has onion hair and I just. I don’t know anymore. my world is shook

what makes it better is the implication that there are other jeanists out there. but he is the best

so much the best that he’s won the best jeanist award eight years running

what is his power?? jeans??

shout out to this other guy Endeavor who I’m completely ignoring because he had the misfortune to be standing next to my homeboy Best Fucking Jeanist

Deku actually went home and took a shower and packed and then got on the subway for a forty-minute ride. holy shit this kid is cool under pressure. probably took a fucking nap on the train too

DID HE EAT THE HAIR??? I ASSUME YES? GODDAMMIT THIS IS BULLSHIT TELL ME WHAT HAPPENED RIGHT NOW

is this the school? I like the trees just chilling out in the entrance lobby there

“there was no time to test out the power All Might had given to me” -- fjkalsjdfj ARE YOU SERIOUS

THEN WHY DIDN’T YOU IDIOTS DO THIS LAST WEEK

YOU COULD HAVE PACKED THE NIGHT BEFORE

THE SHOWER IS FINE, SHOWERS ARE IMPORTANT, BUT YOU COULD HAVE DONE IT FASTER

HE DOESN’T EVEN KNOW IF THE HAIR ACTUALLY DID ANYTHING?? YOU SPENT THE PAST 10 MONTHS BUILDING UP TO THIS? YOU WERE CARRYING THAT BALL FOR TEN FUCKING MONTHS ONLY TO DROP IT THREE FUCKING HOURS BEFORE THE EXAM SFKSHLHK I’M FUCKING LOSING IT

I DON’T CARE IF HE’LL OBVIOUSLY BE FINE, I NEED SOMEONE TO GO AND SMACK HIM PLEASE

-- OH LOOK IT’S MY PROBLEMATIC FAVE

HOLY SAVAGE FUCK THAT “IGNORE + WALK PAST” WAS OFF THE FUCKING CHARTS

“ever since that day, Kaachan never tormented me again”

the answer is yes, right? no? are you sure?? damn

wow they still remember the sludge monster and call it the “sludge incident”

here I was thinking this kind of shit happened on the daily in this crazy superheroes&supervillains society, but I guess some incidents are more memorable than others

also it’s nice that he stopped harassing Green Tsuna, but when my previous (I shouldn’t say “previous”, actually... more like “still current”) favorite Gokudera “GOAT” Hayato had his life saved by his protagonist, he not only stopped tormenting him, but he immediately swore his eternal fealty and dedicated his life to serving him, so that’s a pretty high bar. I will give Baku the benefit of the doubt, though

I’m still obviously on board this ship, as evidenced by the fact that Deku thought “I gotta stop flinching instinctively” and I was like “aww they’ll be lovers any day now”

I don’t understand it either

hey hello I’m cracking up in real life here

wow I thought he was gonna fall and that was hilarious, but instead he’s somehow just... floating there? which is somehow even MORE hilarious

HEY A NEW CHARACTER. [takes notes]

WHY ARE YOU SORRY FOR STOPPING HIM IT WAS A NICE THING TO DO

“[SMILES BROADLY] THIS SURE IS NERVE-WRACKING!” HEY I’M SORRY, BEST JEANIST, BUT YOU CAN FUCK RIGHT OFF, THIS IS MY NEW NEW FAVE

HIGH FIVE, GREEN TSUNA. YOU’RE DOING GREAT

“Everybody say hey” this motherfucker better be saying this in fucking English goddamit. (ETA: he is!! yessssssssss)

nobody said hey

“well that’s cool.” nice recovery! gamfuckingbatte you funky boombox man

YEEEEEEAH

nobody said yeah

my god this is a tough crowd. the practical test could just be warming these stone-cold motherfuckers up and it would 100% explain the abysmally low acceptance rate

I love how Deku talks to himself all the fucking time. I want to watch movies with him. we’ll both talk quietly while trying not to annoy people and probably not succeeding.

they’re sitting next to each other oh my god they were roomaaaaates

no but it’s seriously so cute??

there are probably thousands of people there, they didn’t HAVE to sit with each other. (unless seating arrangements are determined by school)

ETA: which they probably are come to think of it. hahaha)

they can’t take the test together though, aw

look at these fucking Mario silhouettes. did Nintendo sign off on these?

is it allowed because they’re blacked out? how fucking sneaky

(ETA: actually in the anime they didn’t make any Mario references at all, which makes me think there actually was a copyright issue)

these rules seem simple enough. actually seems almost too simple. the amount of different quirks they’re dealing with and the lack of guidelines on how not to use them seems to be asking for trouble. but I guess they probably know what they’re doing by now

I thought this was a high school, why is this 40-year-old man here asking questions about the exam

OH SHIT DEKU HE’S CALLING YOU OUT FROM TWENTY FEET AWAY

we would so get kicked out of movies together

now they’re literally referencing Super Mario Bros by name huh

and calling it an “old retro game”... sob

I actually love the pop culture reference so much and hope that more of these follow. this is how people talk in real life. none of that coming across a zombie and not actually calling them “zombies” because that concept somehow doesn’t exist or any of that bullshit. no sir. “you guys know thwomps from Mario? this thing is like a thwomp from Mario”

here we go. this set-up reminds me of Choice from KHR. please dear god don’t actually be like Choice from KHR

yeah, come to think... how big is this school

there’s a guy whose arm bone is sticking waaaaaay out of his elbow and it’s making me so fucking uncomfortable

please go away

THE GIRL IS HERE

AND THE FORTY-YEAR-OLD MAN IS HERE TOO DAMMIT

all these people who don’t even fucking know Deku are still picking on him for some reason. ugh. just more people to show up, Izu. you got this dude

I’m getting strong Hunger Game vibes here

oh damn they sure did run

thd thd thd thd

relax, Deku, I’m sure there are plenty of monsters to go around. plus most of those guys appear to be morons and I’m sure the smiley girl and the forty-year-old man are the only ones in the group who’ll actually pass somehow

oh fucking FINALLY a flashback to him eating the hair!!

he’ll START to feel SOMETHING in A FEW HOURS?!!!

and there he is running off to take a shower as previously established

I am glad he is confirmed as having good personal hygiene, though

“prepare for some real kickback” noooo I’m getting nervous

when you use One for All, clench up your butt

ssshhf this giant fucking robot literally interrupted his flashback right before we got to the good part??

DEKU. CLENCH YOUR BUTTTT

“why can’t I move?” MAYBE YOU CLENCHED TOO TIGHT. SHIT

some bishounen with a crotch laser just appeared out of nowhere and blasted it!

whew

“merci!” you’re welcome, Tuxedo Mask

wow he’s been standing around for four minutes already?? I take back what I said before, Deku. fucking run

everyone else has killed basically all the enemies. fuck why do I feel like he’s about to face a fucking thwomp. how many points were those again

...lmao zero. well shit

these Ender’s Game test-makers have deemed Yuri on Ice over here a “decision maker”

who am I to argue

BAKUGOUUU

YESSS MY ANGRY SON WHOM I’VE ADOPTED FOR REASONS THAT STILL CONFUSE ME HAS GOT THAT .3% ACCEPTANCE RATE LOCKED UP

OH NO IT’S THE YARUKI SWITCH

WHAT’S A YARUKI SWITCH

ah

now feels like a good time to speculate on just how fucking expensive this fucking test is with the giant robots and the entire fucking city built for the sole purpose of being leveled in ten fucking minutes all for the sake of a test which only 1 out of every 300 people will even fucking pass

somewhere out there I hope there are people whose quirks are just “building lots of things really cheaply and effectively”, otherwise this feels like such a waste

haha now everyone is running again but in the opposite direction this time

and so is Deku. NOW he can move, huh

aaaaaand he’s crying again

something better happen or else he’s screwed

oh fuck me, the girl fell, of COURSE it had to be the girl

(ETA: actually upon reflection I think they redeemed this due to two things: (1) tying it back to her not letting him trip and fall earlier, and (2) the fact that she’s not the first person that Deku has had to heroically rescue, and the person who WAS first was not only a guy, but the angry explosive prodigy character. so I’ll give them a pass here)

(ETA 2: after watching it in the anime, a bunch of debris fucking fell on her, so I take back all of my complaining. good show)

AHHHHH HE’S RUNNING BACK TOWARD THE GIANT MONSTER DOING THE HEROIC “I JUST ACTED WITHOUT THINKING” THING AGAIN AHHH

AHHHHHHHH

AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH

THIS IS THE COOLEST THING I’VE EVER SEEN

HOLY SHIT WAY TO BRING ME BACK DOWN

-- AH?! NOOO WHY IS IT OVER

I’M GONNA GO READ THE NEXT ONE RIGHT NOW

(ETA: and you better believe I did)

BUT FIRST

BONUS:

”I’m glad he came out so unlikable.” HAHA JOKE’S ON YOU

”his face just screams ‘I’m a rotten thief’” LMAO SOB WHY IS HE MY FAVORITE

GOOD CALL CHANGING HIS PERSONALITY THOUGH BECAUSE THIS VERSION NEEDS TO BE PUNCHED IN THE FUCKING FACE:

I HATE HIM

AND THAT’S IT THAT’S THE CHAPTER????

holy fucking shit.