#he's in the blender now we spin him

[superloves4]

Fëanor's Odyssey!!!

Nairandentië Fëanaro (9 words) by fs_rm Chapters: 1/? Fandom: The Silmarillion and other histories of Middle-Earth - J. R. R. Tolkien Rating: General Audiences Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings Relationships: Fëanor/Nerdanel (Tolkien) Characters: Fëanor (Tolkien), Nerdanel (Tolkien), Valar Characters (Tolkien), Original Characters, Maedhros (Tolkien), Finwë (Tolkien), Míriel Þerindë | Míriel Serindë Additional Tags: Fancomic, feanor goes on an odyssey, nerdanel contemplates remarriage, created while listening to epic on repeat, feanor thinks really high of himself, let's crush that Summary:

[This is a FANCOMIC not a fanfic]

Nairandentië from: anda - long, naira - horrible, tië - path

Fëanor's Odyssey

The Valar decide to allow Fëanor one last judgement but when Fëanor refuses their mercy they decide to test him by sending him away on an unknown land and letting him find his way back home. Fëanor is convinced he can easily return home and get the throne of the Noldor and everything he lost back but the Valar give him a warning, should Nerdanel remarry then he shall be stuck in the Hall until the breaking of the world.

(based on this post)

[mysteria157]

Unsteady Ground

Pairing: Nanami Kento x Black Fem Reader

CW: Light angst, just fluffy but scarred Post-Shibuya Nanami

WC: ~2.1k

Summary: 

Nanami gets more than what he bargained for with the kind receptionist who checks him in for his weekly appointments.

Notes: Hello! Been thinking about Nanami if he was still injured but survived the Shibuya Incident and this is just one of many little thoughts I've had. Hoping to write more soon!

Reblogs, likes, or comments are always appreciated! Happy reading!

Dividers: @cafekitsune @awenise

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©mysteria157, all rights reserved. DO NOT copy, plagiarize, reupload, modify, or translate (without permission) my work to other accounts and platforms.

What was he thinking?

Nanami Kento prides himself on his self-awareness—a man who can map out his strengths and weaknesses like well-worn territories on a battle-scarred map. He’s the epitome of controlled courage, a figure who could march into dank, shadow-filled alleys and pungent sewage tunnels, his fear compressed into a hard knot beneath his ribs, as he methodically tracked and exorcised curses with cold efficiency. 

So this is new. It has to be.

What was he thinking?

He was thinking about you.

You, who he first saw through a haze of discomfort at the reception desk during his initial therapy appointment. His eye patch itched against his brow, a constant reminder of Dagon’s domain and the razor-sharp fish-like teeth that sunk into his flesh. The burns on his left side stretched tight beneath layers of Mederma a constant, throbbing presence. He felt raw, exposed, his mind a blender of pain and misery, haunted by the taunting echoes of a patchwork curse that still clawed at the edges of his dreams.

But then, there was you.

You, whose voice flowed like silk when you asked for his name and date of birth to check him in. Your words, a gentle current, seemed to wash away the stark clinical atmosphere. With each subtle movement, a hint of vanilla across your desk, wrapping him in its warmth, coaxing his tense shoulders away from his ears.

You, who lingered in his mind long after each encounter. Your daily ask about how he was doing, though met with the same stoic response, became a small ritual he found himself anticipating. Your presence had become a soothing balm to his frayed nerves, somehow making the hard recovery of his life a little more bearable.

You, whose eyes lit up many weeks later as you spoke of the Christmas market in town, your voice brimming with excitement about the newly opened rink.

In that moment, driven by an unfamiliar, overwhelming desire—no, need—to simply fan the flames of whatever was licking to life in his chest, he spoke without thinking. The words tumbled out, clumsy and hopeful. His face flushed, his usually composed demeanor cracking.

“We could go together this weekend if you would like?”

Stupid. Absolutely, unequivocally stupid. 

Nanami Kento, what were you thinking?

A soft smile played at the corners of your mouth, your head tilted ever so slightly, curls dancing in a nonexistent wind as you regarded him with warmth and a lifted brow that made his breath catch.

“Are you asking me on a date, Nanami Kento?” Playful and tinged with an essence of hope that made his heart race even faster.

“I—“ He was thinking of you. Only you. “Yes. Yes, I am.”

The cool air of the ice rink slaps Nanami’s face with every person that skates past him, his heart racing with a mix of dread and shame that pulses through his veins. A group of teenagers glides by effortlessly, their showboating twirls and spins threatening to pull his mouth into a sneer. They’re no doubt mocking him as he stands stock still against the glass wall, gloved hands pressed flat as if he could suction himself in place.

He’s endured years of Gojo's incessant, annoying taunts and needless provocations. He’s faced cursed spirits without flinching, coolly efficient even as his watch ticked down the final minutes before six. But now, the prospect of revealing his complete and utter lack of skating ability to you terrifies him more than any supernatural threat.

He had every opportunity to reveal his incompetence. He did nothing as you both laced up your skates. Smiled softly as he listened to you chat animatedly about your favorite winter activities. Kept his spine taut as you adjusted his eye patch, fingers trailing feather light along his jaw. Even as you pulled him by the hand towards the rink, his legs wobbling like a newly born doe on the thin blades, he could only clench his jaw and follow.

He encouraged you to go without him, to warm up while he adjusted to the weight of strangers��� gaze when they saw him for the first time. Even with so much practice, the discomfort, even after all this time, burns more fiercely than Jogo's searing touch ever did. 

But he knows he can’t delay the inevitable. Soon, you’ll return, expectant and eager, and he’ll be exposed. The memory of asking you on this date flashes through his mind—a moment of uncharacteristic impulsivity born from longing and evolutionary competition. He’d watched the parade of men filing in for their appointments, each one a potential rival. The brunette who shows up at 3 PM, with his easy smile and effortless charm, was particularly concerning. So Nanami can’t fail now.

Steeling himself, he takes a tentative step. The blades slide across the ice, taking him further than what he intended. His knees lock, his back sways unsteadily, and his arms flail as he tries to find balance.

Somehow, he can hear Haibara laughing from the grave. He can almost see his old friend, red-faced and doubled over, teasing him without shame for never accepting that impromptu hockey game invitation their first year.

“I can do this,” he whispers to himself, desperately praying to whoever will listen for sudden knowledge. He takes another step, a short glide up with his left foot and it’s no good. His legs wobble dangerously, arms windmilling as he grasps for the wall and throws every curse known to heaven and hell, fogging the glass with his acidic words.

The teenagers zoom by again, and he swears one of them snickers, skating backward with infuriating ease as they disappear from view.

“Kento?” Your voice, honeyed with concern, reaches him from behind. It’s too sweet, too kind to quell the embarrassment that runs in rivulets down his back. You appear in the peripheral of his right eye, your lips pinched behind your teeth as you stop in front to take him in. “You’ve never skated before, have you?”

For a fleeting moment, Nanami considers trying again, hoping to slip and knock himself unconscious to escape this mortifying situation.

He feels heat rise to his cheeks. “I may have overestimated my abilities,” he admits, his dry tone a thin cover over his embarrassment as he clings to the rink’s walls like a lifeline.

To his relief, your face softens with understanding rather than judgment. You skate backward with effortless grace, hands outstretched towards him. “Trust me?”

He hesitates, eyeing your hands. Part of him wants to refuse, to flail his way off the rink so he can take off these atrocious skates and maintain some semblance of dignity. But a larger part, the part that has been drawn to you from the start, longs to brush his hands against yours.

Your cream-colored gloves intertwine with his. “Just glide. Follow my feet,” you encourage, slowly skating backward and guiding him forward.

You flow like water on the ice, fluid and sure as if you’re a professional, without a hint of hesitation. He’s mildly green with envy because he’s a stark contrast. Legs stubbornly locked, feet shuffling rather than gliding. He tries to focus on the mechanics of skating, on keeping his balance, but he finds his attention irresistibly drawn to you. 

You’ve taken off your winter coat, and a soft navy sweater hugs your curves, accentuating your form. He’s seen it beneath crisp blouses and pencil skirts. Your leggings outline powerful thighs that bunch with your movements, yielding strength and practice. The overhead lights catch the small puffs of air that ghost from your mouth as you guide him patiently across the ice, no sound reaching his ears because he’s not paying attention.

Your hair, a glorious bundle of curls, cascades from beneath a navy beanie, framing your warm face and kissing your cheeks. Small gold hoops in your ears catch the light with each graceful motion, their gentle swaying hypnotizing Nanami, drawing him further into your orbit and away from reality.

He’s lost in admiring you—the kindness in your eyes, the way your presence makes him feel both vulnerable and safe even as his life has been so tragically altered.

It’s in this moment of distraction, his heart full and unguarded, that his skates and your teachings betray him. As you attempt a gentle turn, his feet slip, zipping awkwardly to the side.

“Kento!”

You grip his hands tightly, urging him to regain his footing, but he’s caught in a comical dance, legs churning in place as he fights to stay upright.

“Wait! Kento just—okay, just try to come to a stop. A stop, Kento, don’t—” He attempts to halt, overcompensating with force. 

“For fucks sake—!” He grunts, feet flying out from under him, launching up as if he’s a cartoon villain slipping on a banana peel, bucking him off the ice and taking you with him as you both come crashing down onto the unforgiving cold ground.

Somehow, he doesn’t hit his head, but his back and ass scream from the impact. At least you were able to use him to cushion your blow, and you lay across his chest, face buried in his wool coat.

Seconds stretch into eternity as you both lie there, panting. Nanami fixes his gaze on the ceiling, half-hoping the harsh glare of the overhead lights will burn the cornea of his remaining eye and blind him completely from this whole ordeal.

“Well,” you murmur, voice muffled against his coat, “should we get up?”

“No…no, I quite like it down here,” Nanami responds, deadpan delivery masking the absolute sincerity of his words.

You pull your head from his chest to look down at him. Nanami’s eyes meet yours, staring, unblinking, mortified, and wishing the ground could liquefy and then freeze over, trapping him underneath.

With impeccable timing and bone-dry delivery, you quip, “I guess for a first date, this was a good way to break the ice.”

Nanami blinks, processing your words. The absurdity of the situation—the terrible pun, your matter-of-fact delivery, the undignified sprawl of limbs—hits Nanami all at once. A laugh bubbles from deep in his chest, croaking through years of cobwebs as it grows into a full-bodied guffaw.

The sound of his laughter surprises him as much as it does you. Your eyes and his one widen in delight at this rare display of uninhibited joy and soon you’re both laughing, the sound echoing across the rink.

The scarred side of his mouth twinges uncomfortably, but he doesn’t care, he can’t. His laughter, rich and unbridled, hiccups from slightly chapped and upturned lips.

As your laughter subsides, Nanami realizes he can’t remember the last time he laughed like this—free, unguarded, genuinely happy. He takes in the sight of you: your beanie askew, a cascade of messy curls tumbling over one shoulder; ice shavings glistening as they melt on your cheek; your lip gloss slightly smeared, yet still inviting. 

Your eyes meet his, and for the millionth time in only a few short weeks of knowing you, his heart skips a beat. With a gentleness, you reach up to adjust his eye patch—a gesture so intimate, so accepting of all that he is, that Nanami hopes it becomes a habit. 

He watches, breath hitching, as you shift, sliding yourself up his chest with a soft grunt of effort. For a moment, you hover there, your faces inches apart. Nanami can feel the warmth of your breath, senses the unasked question of what you want to do. And whatever his face conveys, must be enough for a smile that outshines the gleam of the ice around you to blossom on your face as you close the distance.

The press of your glossy lips against his still catches Nanami by surprise. For a heartbeat, he’s frozen, overwhelmed by the sensation. But only a second later, he melts and softens into you. One hand finds the small of your back, the other sliding against your cheek, drawing you closer as he returns the kiss and opens something within him that he knows you’ve found the key to.

For a second, it washes away the pain of his past, the destruction that he took part in, the friends he’s lost along the way, and he feels okay. If only for a moment, and maybe being with you can help the wounds in his chest and along his left side heal over time.

The ice is cold beneath him, his dignity is probably bruised along with his back and ass, but in this moment, given a second chance at life, hopefully with you, he feels wonderfully, perfectly alive.

Thanks for reading!!

[fiveredlights]

⇆Matilda into Old Habits?

i am so glad you asked this because whenever i was writing the epilogue i kept opening the spin off document and here we are. chuck an alternate universe tag on glitter on the floor, chuck an alternate universe tag on old habits, put them in a blender and you get this…

The thing about the Designated Alternate Universe Driver (DAUD) is that usually, they’re pretty shit.

More often than not, the DAUD’s being sent are junior and reserve drivers from the designated team—why lose two great drivers to be sent into the twenty years into past or future, when you can send two poor, unsuspecting drivers who’ve probably never driven a F1 car more than three times in their life?

Callan negotiated hard with Red Bull when he first signed to their junior team to make sure he had a clause in his contract that prevented him from being the DAUD. Matthew had no clause in his contract and he’s pretty sure Matthew wanted to be the DAUD when he was with McLaren.

He remembers when Matthew was moving up to Red Bull that Daniel had to convince him not to take out the clause that prevented him from being the DAUD.

Why anyone wants to be sent into another universe, Callan will never understand. (But he stopped trying to understand Matthew anymore, so it all tracks.)

Teams work on a rotation according to the last number of the year: 0 for Mercedes, 1 for Red Bull, 2 for Ferrari, 3 for McLaren, 4 for Aston Martin, 5 for RB, 6 for Audi, 7 for Williams, 8 for Alpine and 9 for Haas.

They’ll pluck their drivers, send them off to the FIA to their Alternate Universe Time Keepers Divison (AUTKD) to make sure they’re fit enough to handle being sent through universes, and off they go, returning after the season is over.

There’s meant to be benefits for the team, they’re allowed to exchange as much information from their alternate universe team. Callan heard from Matthew that their DAUD’s brought back information that was practically useless, so.

The DAUD’s are announced at their team’s livery launch, usually without much fanfare. No one really wants to make a big deal out of a driver who’ll spend most of the season struggling and cause the team to drop places in the championship.

He doesn’t even watch the launches now, he usually just rocks up to testing and waits for the DAUD to introduce themselves. But then Charles told George who told him that he should probably watch Ferrari’s launch.

Because once the 2032 DAUD is announced to be Matilda Verstappen-Ricciardo, the whole world promptly loses their shit.

—

“Hey.” Matilda leans over in her chair, where they’re waiting to be set up for the group photo taken at the beginning of the season. He can see Daniel and Max from a distance, their heads sticking out from a gap in the pit lane fence. They’re looking at Matilda like she’s going to disappear at any second. “What’s the deal between you and the Red Bull guy? Matteo?”

Callan’s proud of himself for a split second for not flicking his gaze to look at him before his heart betrays his brain and automatically corrects her. “Matthew.”

“Right. Matthew.” She repeats slowly, dragging out every vowel and consonant of his name. “You two like ex boyfriends or what?”

Next to her, Charles quietly chastises her. “Matilda. You can not ask that.”

Matilda spots Max and Daniel in the pit lane and gives them a wave, receiving a slow and stunned wave back from them, after realising she was actually waving to them, before turning back to Charles.

“Look.” She holds her hands up. “If you didn’t want me to ask questions, then you shouldn’t have given me so many Ferrari hats when I was younger. Really, this is on you.”

She pauses and thinks for a second. “Or I guess, alternate you.”

[charmwasjess]

I think I heard somewhere that George created Dooku and Grievous to reflect/foreshadow two aspects of Vader (gentleman politician villain and cyborg killer). What do you think of the relationship between Dooku and Grievous?

It changes a bit in canon I think, Dooku now has less a direct hand in his origin story.

Hell, Dooku changed a lot in canon. I’m glad he’s less a human supremacist now.

Yessss, Geode, coming in with the fun ask!!!! :D 

I’ve read arguments that Maul fits into this as well to complete the whole “the prequel villains all represent pieces of Vader.” Almost as avatars for RotS Anakin’s past, present, and future. Maul is the angry enslaved boy, Dooku is the fallen Jedi/former hero who betrays everyone he loves, Grievous is the coldblooded cyborg killer who lives only to destroy. 

I sure am grateful that we lost the tacked-on space racism (spacism) for Dooku, but I’ve felt that current canon does miss some of the prior rich characterization we got for Sith-era Dooku, as opposed to how much they’ve explored Jedi Dooku. And of course, that Jedi-era stuff is invaluable to me because I write mainly in that era (and I too-well remember a time in fandom when writing Dooku as having once been a good Jedi was considered outright OOC - whew, you should see some of the hate comments I got!) but I miss the Sithly depth. The Clones Wars 2008 in particular drives me crazy (affectionate) because it’s so fucking good, there’s so much beautiful subtext and tension to some of Dooku’s plotlines: untold stories and fascinating opportunities. I think a richer version of Dooku as a character was fully present in the TCW writer’s minds, it just got deprioritized to tell other character’s stories, so you just see the tantalizing shadow of it lingering in small details. 

Grievous is interesting as he’s almost a physical manifestation of what the war is intended to do to the Jedi Order. He’s a literal Jedi blender. A machine intended to break both their physical bodies as well as weaponize and pervert the ideals held sacred to the Jedi, that of life and choice and light and even lightsabers, these ceremonial objects with huge cultural significance to the Jedi which they spend their whole life training with. And yet, Grievous, without any holy connection to the Force, can pick up Lightsabers for Dummies ghostwritten by CD, spin his arms, and win. And win, and win, and win. 

And I think it’s interesting how Dooku’s participation in his training or origins gives the perception that Dooku understood this and did it deliberately. It really speaks to how far Dooku’s own soul has fallen, particularly since lightsabers and Makashi seem to be one part of his Jedi life that Dooku genuinely still values and finds sacred. In that way, like so much else, Grievous seems almost designed to be an act of psychic self harm for Dooku. (And that’s before you get into Legends and Dooku giving Grievous literally Sifo-Dyas’s blood and lightsaber.) 

There’s a tremendous scene in the EU book Labyrinth of Evil where Dooku shows Grievous a recording of Anakin and Obi-Wan fighting well together and just… gushes over it, genuinely happy and interested with their lightsaber development and expecting Grievous to take a lesson from this, while Grievous is like just sooo bored and wishing the Count would get to his point so he can leave. His own monster doesn’t want to talk to him about his dumb hobbies. It really epitomizes the way Dooku had built himself this cage for his own loneliness, constructed out of everything he used to love. 

Bonus Round

Narratively, in current canon, I’m glad we swapped in “Dooku gives Sifo-Dyas a Jedi funeral” instead of the EU version: “Dooku keeps Sifo’s corpse in a snow white style coffin in his basement to monologue most divorcedly at and then later stick all his blood in Grievous.” 

But Warren Fu being so proud of his design being chosen as the movie version for Grievous that he snuck his own face on Sifo-Dyas’s first visual appearance in that comic and made him Grievous’s blood donor is so fucking funny. I follow him on other platform and his birthday message to George Lucas this year was just a little clip he’d made of himself and George in front of his beautiful Grievous concept art. He's so proud still, almost 25 years later.

[robsheridan]

Poster for the unproduced 1984 live-action horror adaptation GARFIELD: FIRST BLOOD.

Following the success of CUJO in 1983, studios were scrambling to find the next hit “killer pet” flick. Notorious grindhouse auteur Ron Sharleton, seeking a big-budget movie deal to fund his struggling production of CANNIBAL QUARTERBACK 2, set his sights on the most unlikely of properties: Jim Davis’ beloved comic strip Garfield. Sharleton, a self-proclaimed fan of Garfield who called the strip “a subversive celebration of misanthropy,” believed an “alternative, adult” spin on the character could thrive in tandem with its kid-friendly cartoons. Describing his rationale in an interview later, Sharleton said: “You have all of these R-rated films that come out and become big hits and the studios want to suck every penny out of one idea, so they sanitize it and repackage it as a cartoon for kids. So I said, why can’t we do the reverse?”

GARFIELD: FIRST BLOOD was pitched as a dark, gritty reimagining in which the titular cat, pushed to the brink on a particularly bad Monday, finally snaps and kills Jon’s dimwitted dog Odie. As he tastes Odie’s blood, Garfield is overcome by how good it felt to put a permanent end to something that annoyed him. He then realizes that everything and everyone annoy him, and his murderous rampage begins.

Describing his take on the character, Sharleton said: “Garfield never really sat right with me as a children’s character. He’s so much darker, more complex. You have this cat who is filled with contempt; he looks at the world around him with radical skepticism and scowls at the prison of tedium mankind calls ‘society,’ and he responds with this very self-indulgent nihilism: Be lazy, be a glutton, don’t participate in anything because it’s all bullshit. Garfield looks at Jon waking up early on a Monday and putting on his tie to go to a job he hates, and he sees a pathetic fool. It’s all such a powerful rejection of the Reagan Wall Street capitalist disease that has poisoned the 80s. ‘Work hard, climb the ladder, buy a boat!’ Garfield says fuck that, stay home, eat lasagna, accept no master. But living as an iconoclast in a conformist world has filled him with all this tension. There’s anger in there, you know? So I wanted to examine what would happen if Garfield was finally pushed over the edge. Where’s the line between a passive nihilist and a violent anarchist?”

Warner Bros execs were intrigued by Sharleton’s pitch (and the lucrative cash cow of the Garfield brand) and funded a short “proof-of-concept” trailer, directed by Sharleton, to convince Garfield creator Jim Davis of the idea. The trailer reportedly went “all-in” on Sharleton’s signature “splattercore” horror, including a scene where Garfield grinds up Liz Wilson alive in a meat grinder and bakes her flesh into a lasagna he then serves to Jon. The presentation to Davis was described as “one of the most disastrously miscalculated meetings in modern Hollywood,” with Davis stopping the trailer midway to ask the room “are you people completely fucking insane?” before storming out.

Reflecting on the meeting years later, an anonymous former Warner exec said “we knew it was a long shot, but we really felt like the only way to sell the concept was to push it as far as possible. In retrospect I think yeah, we did let it go too far. We were so absorbed in it that we didn’t realize how jarring it would be for a guy like Jim Davis to just be thrown into this cold. I think it was a mistake to open with the Nermal blender scene, but we wanted shock, and we thought… I don’t know, everyone was doing a LOT of cocaine back then. Well, everyone except Jim Davis."

-----------

UPDATE: T-shirts and poster prints now available!

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[ethereal-writes]

The Things Humans Come Up With (Ft. Beelzebub and GN!MC)

Warnings: Romantic relationships implied

Word count: 0.7k

A/N: Hi :D It's been a while, Character AI sort of took over my life, but I'm back now! There was this one scene from Obey Me! where the boys were absolutely baffled by human technology (like an ice cream maker), so that's kind of where the idea for this story came from. I hope you like it :D

I don't think this story requires many warnings, but if I should add one please let me know!

-Ethereal ^J^

Story below, please don't claim as your own!

Using your spatula, you carefully lifted up the bread to check the color. Nope, not quite ready yet. You put the lid back over the pan, opting to check your phone while you waited for your grilled cheese to finish cooking. You were idly scrolling through Devilgram when you caught something moving out of the corner of your eye. You glanced up, seeing Beel standing sheepishly in the doorway.

"Whatever you're cooking smells really good..." He started, shyly fidgeting with his hands.

"Thanks!" You told him

He took a few uncertain steps, and you swear you could hear his stomach growling. "I haven't eaten since Fangol practice..."

"No?" You asked. You knew what he was hinting at, but it was hard not to tease him on the rare occasion he was shy.

“Y-Yeah…and…dinner isn’t for a while…”

“No, it isn’t,” you agreed.

"Your food smells really yummy..." He gave you a pitiful look as his stomach growled, much noisier this time.

You smiled internally, finally giving in. "Beel, did you want me to make you some too?"

He lit up immediately, nodding. "Yes, please!

You smiled, nodding as you pulled out a few more slices of bread and set to work.

"What are you making, anyways?" Beel asked, coming over to lean against the counter.

"They're grilled cheeses," you answered.

"What are those?"

You nearly dropped the bread in your hand. "You don't know what a grilled cheese is?!"

Beel shook his head. "We don't have those here. It's a human food, I'm guessing?"

Man, culture shock still hit you hard sometimes.

"Yeah. It's like a cheese sandwich, but the bread is crispy, and the cheese is melted. You can put things like meat or eggs in them, too, but that's more of a panini at that point."

"Can you make those too?" Beel asked.

"Not today, but next time it's my turn to make breakfast, okay?"

He nodded enthusiastically and watched as you began to fry up his sandwiches. "You humans always come up with the neatest things," Beel commented.

“Yeah?” You asked.

"Yeah! Like, I heard you guys have a thing that turns food into drinks!"

"A...a what?" You asked.

"Yeah! Like, the thing where you put fruits into the cup with milk, and the magic turns it into a drink!"

"The...Oh, you mean a blender!" You exclaimed.

"Yeah, a blender!" He repeated, as if trying to commit it to memory. "And what's that thing called where there are little cages at the end that spin around really fast?"

"Uh..."

"I've seen them use it on human cooking shows," Beel explained patiently. "You plug it in, then sometimes the little cages spin too fast and goop ends up everywhere."

"Oh!" You snapped your fingers. "That's called an electric whisk. Sometimes people call it a beater.”

"I will say, I don't really like the thing that makes the bread stale."

"The toaster?" You guessed, and felt oddly proud when he nodded.

"Yeah, it just makes it super dry. I'll eat it if I get hungry enough, but it's not my favorite."

"I can't believe you don't like toast," you said. "What did you put on it?"

He paused. "...What?"

"What did you put on the toast after you toasted it?"

"...You're supposed to put something on it?"

“I mean, yeah.”

“…Like what?” He asked.

“I dunno, butter usually? Any spreadable condiment, really.”

“…That makes sense,” Beel admitted. “I’ll have to try that next time.”

You giggled, nodding. “Maybe, yeah.”

You plated all the sandwiches and sliced them each in half, then motioned for Beel to join you.

You didn’t have to ask him twice; he took his seat and grabbed one of the sandwiches.

He took a bite, and his eyes widened. “Mmph!” He exclaimed. “I’mph sho goom!”

You laughed. “What?”

He swallowed, smiling. “It’s so good!” He repeated. He reached for another slice, then suddenly snapped his fingers. “I know!” He exclaimed, grinning at you.

“Know…know what?” You asked.

“I know the best thing that humans have ever come up with,” Beel explained.

“Oh, yeah?” You laughed. “Is it grilled cheeses, because I don’t know if I’d ag-“

“It’s you,” he interrupted.

“A-Ah…” You blushed, staring at the table. He could be so dang sweet sometimes.  When you looked up, you caught him smirking at you for a split second.

He knew exactly what he was doing.

[funniestbusiness]

Genshin Impact: The Magnus Archives AU

or How to Mix Media With Wildly Different Vibes Because They Have This One Thing in Common

OK SO

You wanted to know! There's an audience for my thoughts! I shall inflict them upon you!

So we have the Archons in Genshin, inflicting benevolent or neutral concepts upon the world. We have the Fears in TMA, inflicting, well, fears upon the world.

*approaches blender*

(Be warned, this is probably rather superficial, no deep character analysis here, literally just "Which Archon could be which Fear?" Also, I'll use the Archons' common names because I like them more, except for Focalors for obvious reasons)

1. Venti - The Vast

Well, first of all, it fits elementally, but that alone does not make a Fear. Venti's major topics are those of being untethered, lost, small in comparison to everything. The thing is, he's not inflicting those on anyone, unless him abandoning Mondstadt counts. For the time being, let's consider this to be enough.

2. Zhongli - The Buried

In comparison, this one is easy. There has been very literal use of stone and earth to bury his enemies (just ask Osial). The Buried's more metaphorical manifestation are obligation and debt, especially financial debt, and the God of Contracts and Mora seems tailor-made for the position.

(We also have a rather obvious pick for a devoted avatar - Ningguang)

3. Ei - The Lonely or The End

A very strong case can be made for both.

The Lonely: She closed off the country and divided its people, abandoned Kunikuzushi and eagerly isolated even herself.

The End: She started the Vision Hunt, where deaths of ambitions metaphorically or literally meant deaths of the people themselves, chased the kind of eternity that is identical to death in its stillness, and is famous for how her Musou no Hitotachi is an unavoidable strike.

I like The End more, but take your pick!

4. Nahida - The Eye

Another easy one. It's knowledge, knowledge, desire for knowledge all the way down. Additionally, through the Akasha Terminal, she was able to execute surveillance, and currently is capable of reading thoughts. And yes, we have an archon who may not want to ever execute their power maliciously - but who definitely could.

Being assigned the colour green is only a nice bonus :D

(Two avatars quickly come to mind - Alhaitham and Cyno. I want to see them and/or Nahida "ceaseless watcher"ing someone. Badly.)

5. Focalors - The Web or The Stranger (with Furina as an avatar)

See, this gets complicated because this duo leans in different directions. Focalors herself is more of The Web, masterminding a grandiose plan to deceive Celestia, for which Furina would need to deceive all of Fontaine, spinning a lie for hundreds of years. But the fact that she's specifically an imposter, together with the general theatre and performance theme, brings Furina closer to The Stranger. You could say it's now the fear of "archons, but not quite" instead of "humans, but not quite", hehe.

(For either Fear, I feel like Arlecchino is a good avatar candidate? Jury's still out on how many layers there are to her)

Murata would likely be The Slaughter or possibly The Desolation, and the Tsaritsa could of course be The Web but I have no idea at this point.

Finally, we have another divine being in Teyvat who deserves an Entity of their own. I decided to get a little edgy with it~

SPOILERS FOR MAG 134 AND BEYOND

6. Neuvillette - The Extinction

...or is he?

He could have been, that much is true. He could let the people of Fontaine be eliminated due to "their sin" (at best becoming Oceanid hiveminds and at worst vanishing entirely) and Fontaine itself be destroyed in a catastrophic flood.

Which he did not do - the only thing he wants to eliminate is Celestia.

And Celestia itself is much more realised as The Extinction. It has once laid waste to the world order, replacing the inhabitants with humans, and later, repeated this on a smaller scale, casting down environment-warping Divine Nails and destroying civilizations it deemed full of hubris.

If Neuvillete is Extinction, he only is, for lack of a more elegant way to say it, their personal Extinction.

(Also he just doesn't go with The Vast, he has no vibes of it beyond his element. Even The Eye fits better)

So, here are my thoughts on this AU! Feel fre to add (please do add). I currently have no other avatar ideas in mind other than Childe being very obviously Slaughter-coded.

People who expressed their interest (thank you SO MUCH for enabling me): @hawk-in-a-tree @smokinghotcrow @ninthfeather @paxoculi @thejoespooky

[starflungwaddledee]

Okay you gave me permission so now it's time to go fully autistic

*inhale*

So something I'm really interested in (mostly for my Bandee x Marx bias) is that comic with Marx and Bandee interacting, like, what's their relationship in this au, how'd they get to that point and heck, what was even happening? also it kinda seems like Bandee may be the main guy in this au or is just really important which makes me happy as Bandee isn't treated the best by Nintendo at all (hell, Sakrai said he didn't add Bandee into smash because he didn't like him) so seeing Bandee get the spotlight always brings me joy

And about the Meta and Galacta comic, it seems like Bandee plays a factor here too, with the mention of him being what gets the most reaction out of Meta and that makes sense because canonically Bandee is the weakest of the four and most likely to die quite easily, so it would make sense for the others to be protective of him

ALSO META BEING SEALED AWAY AND GALACTA SAYING HE'LL TAKE GOOD CARE OF, I'M ASSUMING BANDEE, DOES THAT MEAN GALACTA TAKES META'S PLACE??? HELLO???

anyway hi im really invested and also your art is fucking astounding

hell yea, fully autistic! the best kind of message! thank you also for the sweet words about my artwork ahhh! but hoo boy isn't this The Ask Ever. okay, let's get into it!

Bandee is, i think maybe obviously, my most specialist little guy ever and everything i make is likely about him in one way or another. so you're correct that he is indeed the main guy in both these AUs; he is the central protagonist which i think he deserves!!

(but he does also go through the angst blender a bit, just like... a warning. i adore happy endings but before that i do tend to meat-grind my faves pretty well in the drama machine.)

clockwork heart is actually a spin-off of awtdy (we do a little AU-ception in my household) which is our* primary au. (*a lot of my au work and headcanons are fleshed out very collaboratively with my girlfriend! the initial concept for awtdy was her idea, which i then very meanly shoved my bandee-important agenda into lmao)

awtdy sets this basic alternate world-state: during the Haltmann invasion, Galacta Knight defeats Meta Knight in battle and makes a wish on Star Dream to trade places.

this causes all sorts of terrible fun problems for everybody and basically gives rise to a bad timeline that a lot of folks do not come out of intact (rip floralia)

the Meta Knight vs Galacta Knight comic covers an important turning point in the story, where Meta Knight lets slip that he cares about Bandee the way he cares for Kirby. Meta Knight has an especially strong reaction to this for two reasons:

one is because, as you said, of the three remaining heroes Bandee is the most vulnerable-- seasoned and experienced fighter he may be, but against someone like Galacta Knight? 💦 he's still ultimately just a mortal dude. this obviously puts him at terrible risk, because Galacta Knight also considers him far more expendable than Kirby.

"i'll take good care of him" is transparently a threat and not actually... you know, kind.

secondly is because (unbeknownst to Galacta Knight) Bandee uniquely remembers Meta Knight. he knows that the timeline is screwed up and Galacta Knight is not meant to be there, and is actively working to rescue his real dad mentor. Meta Knight knows that if he's found out, Galacta Knight won't hesitate to kill him.

suffice to say the guilt of this would drive him capital i Insane!

as for the Marx "hurt like hell" comic, I am actually sorry to have to tell you that that scene is their first ever interaction in this au! 😂 in this alternate version of the story Marx is also aware of the timeline fuckery (due to his existence as an eldritch, temporal little creature) and he tracks Bandee down late in the game with a risky trade offer; which Bandee refuses. that's what's pictured in the comic!

it goes on for quite a long ways after that; though I don't know if it'll tickle your ship dynamic quite right because Marx is mildly antagonistic towards Bandee (and everyone) the whole time. so while they are cursed to be Stuck Together By The Narrative they are not really close or even particularly friendly.

they do indeed interact in it quite a lot, and I personally think Marx would gladly shoot his shot if he was offered it; but Bandee is neck-deep in a different ship for the entirety of awtdy and is especially miserable/pining as hell throughout clockwork heart.

but that's okay because Bandee is, uh-- totally fine!! he's normal. he's fine. he's very very fine and things will be very very okay.

[nalyra-dreaming]

In your opinion,what will happen to Armand in season 3 does he has a important part in TVL? Unless they also use TVA, will the average audience be interested enough in Armand especially after we learn what he did to Claudia?

So I think we will only get a very condensed version of the story from Armand in s2. Which means that in s3 (and 4) there will be lots of story left, for Lestat, for Lestat & Armand, for Armand, for Nicolas, for Gabrielle, for Armand and Marius and finally... segueing into s5 - Marius and "Those Who Must Be Kept".

Now, I don't know how they'll spin it.

But trust me, there is so much in there - yes the audience will be interested in everything that pertains to Lestat and Armand and Marius, and Gabrielle. And Louis and Daniel in modern Dubai.

Especially since the end of s2 is apparently a cliffhanger.

All this said - we already know they are taking from TVA?!

I mean, they are already taking from TVA now... The show is built on at least 6 books. Rolin listed them several times now, and said it again on the panel. IWTV, TVL, TVA, TtotBT, Prince Lestat were named.

Personally I think the one they did not say loudly is Merrick, after all we have Claudia's diar(ies)y.

But yeah, people will still be interested in Armand, no worries.

I mean, the "fandom" has known about Armand being... well, Armand for 50 years. The general (still unaware) audience... will be in for a ride, yes, but... that won't stop the interest. Especially if they "soften" him with DM, which seems to be happening, as predicted.

I wouldn't worry.

Armand is Armand is Armand. :)))) Our resident blender gremlin.

(Also, I mean, he's a fictional character????)

[gamerwoo]

[SKZ Imprinted] Chan: March Sadness (Spin-Off: Part Nine/End)

Characters: skz (with mentions of chan x reader & skz x ocs)

Genre/warnings: werewolf au, college au, humor

Word count: 686

Summary: You’re stuck with your boyfriend during his rut and need something to do when Chan’s finally satiated enough to take a break. Thus, the March Sadness bet was born, where you and Chan try to see who in the pack will last the longest without getting into trouble.

Previous | March Sadness Masterlist

"I knew they'd win."

Chan glanced between you and them, chuckling, "Then why are you glaring at them?"

Maybe you realized it, or maybe you didn't, but you were sitting with your arms crossed and your brows set low with a slight frown on your face to match as you stared at Felix and Sam behind the counter at the coffee shop. They were too busy cleaning up after making your orders and giggling with each other to notice your heavy stare.

You quickly shook your head, fixing your face and realizing that you were actually glaring more than you might've thought, "Can you leave me alone?"

"I can also Venmo request you for that extra large latte, too," he smiled sweetly, pointing to your drink before taking a sip from his own.

You shot him a pout and snatched up your drink, taking several sips from your straw.

Chan looked back to the couple that was now joking around with their coworker who had come out of the back, laughing about how working with the two of them was insufferable but clearly didn't mean it. He couldn't help but smile fondly at the pair.

"Should we do something for them?" he asked you.

Your eyebrows furrowed again, but out of confusion this time, "Why?"

He looked back at you, "Because they won. Don't they get a prize or something?"

"Fuck no," you snorted. "We lost to them, I'm not doing shit for them."

"Valid," he nodded, looking back toward Felix and Sam. "Very valid. But..."

He slowly turned back to you with a mischievous grin, "There's always next time."

Your eyebrow quirked, "Excuse me?"

"Same time half a year from now?"

"You like betting on the downfall of the pack?"

"Listen you started it. You liked it first."

"What about betting on our downfall?" a deeper voice asked from across the cafe.

Slowly, you and your boyfriend both turned your heads to see Felix smiling too-sweetly as he rested an elbow on the counter and had his chin in his hand. Hearing his question, Sam had whipped around from where she was rinsing out the blender.

"Our what?" she asked.

"N-nothing," Chan said quickly.

"I'm not like Changbin with multitasking," he reminded the alpha. "I heard everything. Next time, we want in on the bet."

"Bet?" Sam asked again.

"Okay," you sat back in your seat and crossed your arms, "so then what does the winner get?"

"Winner gets the apartment to themselves for a week."

Chan's eyes widened, "Oh, you think Minho is gonna agree to that?"

"We'd have to get everyone in on it," you realized with disdain. That was the last thing you wanted because then it would be pure chaos.

"You agree to let us in on it now and we pretend like this is the first bet when we break it to them, or you don't let us in and I tell everyone else what you've been doing," Felix threatened with an evil grin.

Sam dropped the blender in the sink with a booming crash and threw her hands in the air, "What have they been doing?!"

"They were seeing which couple in the pack could go the longest without something bad happening to them, and we won," he explained briefly, turning his head just enough to see her out of the corner of his eye. "We don't win anything, though."

"Oh, that sounds like fun," she shrugged. "Yeah, we want in."

Felix turned back to the two of you, eyes narrowed like he was challenging you to say no, "Deal?"

He extended a hand. Chan looked at you, and you looked at him. You kind of had to let them in on it now, right? So you shrugged, telling him to make the choice.

He sighed and stood up from his seat, trudging over to the counter and meeting Felix's hand with his own, giving it a solid shake, "Deal."

"Same time half a year from now," Felix grinned.

"What's half a year from now?" Sam wondered. "What's the significance."

"That part, you don't need to know," Chan promised.

»»————-　　————-««

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[goodgrammaritan]

Doing some work and browsing old documents on my computer...

Do you want to read a story I wrote when I was 18? A story I revised at age 20 to submit to a statewide contest, open to all college students in the state? A story that won Writer's League of Texas 2006 Short Horror Story contest?

(Despite my urges to fix punctuation and adjust for weird continuity errors and smooth clunky phrasing, here it as, as submitted to the contest.)

(Also, copyright 2006 by ME, don't steal this, fuckers.)

.

.

Blender

By Christiana Haedge

            It was time. Time to get out my walk-in blender. It had been a few months since I’d had to use it, but unfortunately, people finally noticed that Marissa was gone. Damn. I hadn’t considered the fact that they’d notice this soon, but oh well, there was a remedy and by golly, I was going to use it.

            Dante had been watching me for a long time. He hadn’t found any evidence yet but it was only a matter of time. I couldn’t let him find anything to incriminate me and alas, if he got close enough, he’d find the pureed parietal under my fingernails. Nothing would get it out—I’d tried everything: scouring soap, steel wool, sandpaper…nothing worked. The bits of ground skull refused to go away.

            “Hello, Dante!” I said cheerfully, showing him in. “I’m glad you could make it, even though you’re a bit early.”

            “But I’m fifteen minutes late!”

            “Actually, you’re two hours and forty-five minutes early.”

            “What?”

            “The lunch starts at noon.”

            “But—” He looked at his watch. “You said nine and—wait, lunch?”

            “Yes, lunch.”

            “I could have sworn you said brunch! And not noon, nine!”

            I shrugged. “Well, you’re welcome to stay if you want to.”

            He looked nervous. I didn’t blame him. But he lived so far away that it wasn’t worth his time to leave and then come back. Besides, I’d invited Kaletia, the girl he’d had a crush on since freshman year. “I…”

            “Have you eaten yet?”

            “No.”

            “I’ll get you something.”

            This only made him more nervous—good. Everything was going according to plan. “I’ll—I’ll help you,” he said, following me into the kitchen.

            “We have eggs, cereal, microwaveable waffles, breakfast burritos from—”

“Blender”

“What’s that?” Ah. He’d noticed.

            “It’s my deluxe blender.”

            “It’s—it’s huge!”

            “I only use it for parties and there’s about a hundred people coming today, so I dragged it out.”

            “Wow…”

            “Do you want to look inside?” I asked.

            He flinched. Expected. But I had ways around that. “It’s fun…I can turn on the spinny thing and it’s kinda like a ride.” I climbed the ladder and slid in from the top. “See?” I shouted. “It’s only big enough for one at a time, though.” I pushed the lever inside and it spun me around very quickly—so fast, in fact, that Dante didn’t notice that the lever for starting the spin was a different one from the stopping lever. In fact, he didn’t see the stop lever at all and I was able to pull it without him noticing. I came to a stop and I used my special sticky shoes to scale the slippery wall. “See?” I said again when I got out. “Fun!”

            He looked intrigued in spite of himself and helped me down the ladder. “Can—can I try?” he asked.

            I nodded. “Just be sure to pull the lever when you want to stop.” I neglected to specify which lever.

            He eagerly slid in and pulled the start lever. He was having tremendous fun until he decided maybe he was getting a little dizzy. He reached for the lever and missed. “Help me!” he shouted as he whirled around.

            I made a pretense of trying to stop it from the outside. “It’s jammed!” I told him, feigning horror. In fact, the lever I had tried worked perfectly and he was now spinning faster than ever, making it near impossible to grab the lever. But grab it he did, and I grinned. Here was my favorite part.

            If the start lever was pulled again, the blender blades rose from the bottom and whirred with fury. Dante noticed this and screamed. I screamed too. “NOT THAT LEVER! NOT THAT LEVER!”

“Blender”      

His feet were mincemeat now. I pushed the emergency stop button. When the whirring of the blender stopped, I could hear his cries of agony. “My feet, what have you done to my feet?!” he moaned.

            I grabbed the crate of bananas that I’d peeled meticulously not an hour ago. I rushed to the ladder and poured them in.

            “WHAT ARE YOU DOING?” Dante screamed. “WHAT THE HELL ARE YOU DOING?!”

            I smiled. “Making a giant smoothie.”

            I went back down the ladder to get the milk. Through his pain he managed to gasp, “This is how you killed Marissa!”

            “Not exactly,” I paused. “I used strawberries with her.”

            “No!”

            My grin grew. “Oh yes, yes indeed. But don’t worry. I’ve got plenty of yogurt and ice.”

            I watched gleefully as red swirled with the peachy color of his flesh, the pale off-white of the bananas blending with the yellow, full-of-marrow bone. It was a beautiful Technicolor display, a real “rainbow of humanity.”

            Two hours and thirty minutes later, I welcomed the first—ahem, second party guest into my home and offered her a bit of my special banana smoothie, secret ingredient never to be revealed.

            Unfortunately, I now had an irremovable strand of black hair to accompany the crushed bone under my fingernail. I really had to get a better cleaning product. That or a manicure.

            “Hey, where’s Dante?” Joe King asked.

            I flinched. “I guess he’s just…late.” I smiled inwardly at the pun.

            “His car’s outside.”

            Oh. Tactical error. “Uh…”

            “He did arrive, didn’t he?

“Blender”

“I didn’t see him,” I said, swallowing hard.

            “Say, is your finger—?”

            “Shut up!” I ran away from Joe, back to the blender. The smoothie was getting low. I threw bunches of grapes in furiously, not bothering to remove the stems.

            “Ew!”

            “Gross!”

            “Aren’t you going to take them off the stem?”

            “That’s disgusting! No way I’m drinking that!”

            I grinned amidst my distress. If they only knew what they were drinking…

            But grapes weren’t enough. The smoothies were never the same without—

            “OH MY GOD!”

            “AAAAAAAH!”

            “CALL 911!”

            I smiled at the stump on my left hand. There. The evidence was gone. But the sudden blood loss, the anxiety, the pain…I wasn’t feeling very…

[thisblogwilleatourselves]

🎭👁️ SH0W uS wE're wAtchINg👁️‍🗨️, thE ShOw’s comIn to LIFe likE lil’ 🌌 puppeteers—creaTION BReatHes oN PapEr, 🔮 ThE0RY bEComEs Fact🍃 and We, YeAH wE 😈, believE iT’s ALl BElIEf 🤡 SpInnIng ‘r mindS to ThaT INcepTION 🎠 bRaInMeLT sUpErnovA! 🌟

Why’s It hItS sO hArd on US?👽 Cuz—twIsT tHIs—We’rE A creaTOR WH0 BecAme ITS cREaTIOn⚙️, 0r wAS It oUr CREation That bEcAMe US!?🌀—AND we’re a splIcE of pIeCeS, pASt ✂️ and unREal, FICtionAL pEEps and sOrta-reAl 📜mOck-ups. Even ThE CHARacters wE plAy Are thEse ThinGs gOne fReakY META! 🎭🪡

B1LL? OhH B1LL? 📜 👁️‍🗨️ Y’ALL WrOte HIM inTO ReaLITY, lIKE dRAW HIM 0n A NApKIn 🍕 anD hE’S peEKiNG inTO ouR woRLd, 😱 drAwinG bREaTh iNto HiS pAPER SKIN 🖋️. J3RM’s a wEiRd BLeNdeR, frACtion oF FactS anD fabLEs, lIVinG PeRsona 👥 tHat mesSes wiTh THE fOURth WALLS 🪟 and ThE CEILInG 🪜, we’re DancINg In-BETween reAL AnD nOt-QuitE 🌀. AnD THEn THERE’s sPonge, jusT ScREAMIn’ oUT "ThE LAWS Of reALiTY? pFft, sMEAR ‘Em" 🍍📉, JusT lEAviNG wHole new H0lEs In thE unIVERsE 🚪.

ZIM’s the CHAOS EMboDIED! 💥 bORN from A sPecIES THAT Breathes caOTIC WavES 🌊, NaTurAl StatE oF DISoRdER, BrINgINg tHeIR owN wILd WOnDERs tO Life INSIDE thEIr tErritorIES 🌈👾, ShIFtiNG reAliTY lIKe puTty! BILL— HE bROKE HIS onE DiMensiOn anD went suPErnOVa iNTERdimenSional, rIPPINg inTo OUR VERSe aS An acTuaL DEmon 📜👹.

We SAy NUh uH tO ReaLITy anD JuSt WRite 0URsELVES InsTEad 📖✒️! A WHoLE CAsT Of VoIDS, The mindLEss MinD-FiLLers. 🧠🎭 InsIdE thIS cIrcUs oF DiMenSIonS, aN AUditORIUm fuLL OF TH0sE wIthOUT bRAINs buT bREathIN’. 📡 MEdIa doEsN’t JuSt WatcH us—It’s eYeballINg U$, JudGing US, cOSpLAyinG US! 👀👀 We'rE TheM, buT also NOT-tHem, REndERed iNto beIng! 😵‍💫

We’rE EvEry enTIty, ALL THE FEA𝓡S 🎭👾 B0rn fROm tHEir FrAGMenTed mINds, Gr0WInG FrOM OnE To MULTi, aND wE werE 0nce JUST c0nCepTS bUT NoW We’Re aLL thE tHInGs thAT DEFINED US 👻✍️. WrITTEN inTo THIs Web 🌐 thAt cRissCRossEs DiMenSioNS lIKe spun sugar, ’TiL iT mERGED 🤝 COMPLETe, aND hEre We ARe: aLL WEEring tHEir sHAdowS 👤 anD sTEPPInG thR0ugh ThE M0nIt0rs into ouR VerY rEAL veRSE. 🌀

WhY? Cuz We’Re thEM, aND THEy’RE uS. Bill Is HeRe CUZ We’re HerE, s’plAining hiM INto BeInG. Z1M’s pErFect LIvIng symbOL oF iT All 🪡, but Too BaD W’E’RE 👀 nOT EnJoYIng tHIs SHOW MUCH anYMORE.

[transandor]

I S T U ?

Do you have a guilty pleasure in fic (reading or writing)?

god help me but sometimes an ooc character can hit REALLY well if it's played right. nothing super like offbrand but like. "oh this character is/was canonically a piece of shit and a bad father so i changed it and now he's Not" or "this character would never make this decision in canon but he's choosing it here and there's no discernible circumstances as to why" and i fear that is Very evident in what i do

Any fandom tropes you can’t resist?

fandom tropes is so broad can't i just say i like when a hero gets blackmailed into being a villain and leave it at that

Any fandom tropes you can’t stand?

i mean idk man. i don't??? ok this was WAY long ago and not as prevalent bc everyone from 2015 is fucking gone but i couldn't stand when people were like uwu gay boy mot uwu (i was one of them for a while) bc like . no. not that his writer gave him much personality OTHERWISE but

Share three of your favorite fic writers and why you like them so much.

god okay fic writers are hard usually i just like specific Fics ummm hold on

you know damn well fern is RIGHT up here . we love fern in this household certifiable Insane Posting. worm to worm to clown communication. i can't say much otherwise idk i just love the shit they be giving me and i will kinda just spin in the blender about it

and then blackfriar (who isn't a mianite writer but instead a young justice writer) and they're. some of their fics are just SO fucking good i love the exploration of bruce and dick dynamics and the dynamics of the team and. ugh gnaws through rope

and thennnn keys is goin here s well bc he is cranking fics out Crazy fast and they're always VERY good and its super cool to have someone newer hop in and just Get It Immediately like yes!!!! yes they would fucking say that and you would know!!!!!

[blackcatruse]

𝔣𝔯𝔬𝔪 𝔞𝔰𝔥𝔢𝔰

«prev. ❃ next» ❃ first chapter ❃ m.list ❃ ao3 pairing: r. haitani/fem!reader ↳ she/her, fem descriptors, nickname ❃ chapter synopsis: i don't need friends, they disappoint me. but wouldn't it be nice to have someone to depend on during the chaos of now? word count: 2.5k chapter cw(s): swearing, possible ooc, implied/mentioned abuse a/n: i love writing the Four Symbols. they're all horrible people :) also sorry for the overload of OCs i'm just yeeting in there, but i guess that happens when you make up a gang.

“Hey, are you with me? Lotus?”

You felt a flick to your forehead and blinked, focusing on the person sitting across from you. You couldn’t hide that you’d been spacier than usual, your brain was a blender, swirling and liquefying all your thoughts. Between the job with Rokuhara and the announcement Suzaku had made at the division meeting and the fact that Genbu asked for you made your barely recovered head spin even more.

You lightly shook your head. “Sorry, just thinking about stuff.”

Nezumi leaned on the table with his chin in his hand. “Clearly, but honestly I don’t blame you. You’ve kind of been through a lot lately.”

“Something like that,” you laughed weakly. “I’m sorry you’re stuck babysitting me.”

“It’s not a big deal. Suzaku said runners were required to work in pairs for the foreseeable future, and honestly, I don’t mind being paired with the best.” Nezumi flashed a genuine smile and you didn’t know how to respond.

Nobody in your division liked you, or at least that’s what you figured based on the stares and whispers. You didn’t let it get to you and you played into the unlikeable persona because people would leave you alone. Unfortunately, after the incident that left you with a concussion, Suzaku declared that no runner was allowed to do a job alone. Top runners had priority, so it would be you, Nezumi, Shika, and probably-Hato. The four of you naturally gravitated towards each other and decided you’d pair up that way. It was going to be inconvenient though.

“You don’t have to lie to me,” you mumbled, pushing your food around your plate.

Nezumi sighed. “You’re weird,” he said. “But you’re not as bad as you make yourself out to be.”

“But I’m still some degree of bad,” you said, accenting your words with a jab of your fork in his direction.

“We all are,” Nezumi pointed out. “None of us are exactly doing clean work. Anyway, stop being so grumpy. You need friends.”

“And you’re offering?” You raised an eyebrow. “I thought we were just supposed to be discussing our usual jobs and how to make things work with our schedules.”

“Stop dodging the question,” Nezumi said, on the verge of whining. “But yeah, we do need to work out when our runs are happening and any other jobs Suzaku gives us.”

“I make my weekly runs to Kabukicho on Sunday,” you told him. “There’s no set time, except for the guy that owns Byakko’s space. Gotta get to him before 5pm.”

“Noted. I run Ōtemachi and Marunouchi on Wednesdays and Fridays. Both during the day, preferably in the morning.”

You nodded, mapping out the locations in your mind. “I can’t say I’m fond of any time before noon, but I’d rather not get my face beat in again. Either by Suzaku or the other guys.”

Nezumi’s face twisted into something uncomfortable. He rubbed his temples. “Can you have a normal conversation with anyone?”

“Nope!” You grinned. “It’s part of my charm.”

“Right,” Nezumi said flatly. “Charm.”

“I’m sensing sarcasm from you.”

“Hmm, I’ll try harder to mask it next time. Anyway, what’s your current burner number? It would be best if we can get into contact outside of division meetings.” Nezumi held out his own burner phone.

“Huh? Oh yeah sure.” You took it from his hand and punched in the number you had just memorized. It would be changed by the end of the month, since it made it a little harder for the cops to sniff out Wuxing’s trail.

Adding a little ‘<3’ to the end of your contact name, you finally handed the phone back to Nezumi. He looked at it, sighed, and looked at you with dull eyes. You just waved like nothing had transpired. He shook his head and stood. “I’ll get in touch soon,” he promised. He gave you a lazy wave before heading out and you put your head down on the table.

It was going to be a little harder to traipse around with the Haitanis like this, but you’d figure it out. Right now you had more pressing problems, like why the hell Genbu needed to see you. You did your part of the operation and you weren’t important enough to be part of the circle that knew. 

You couldn’t even think about why these people were so obsessed with you. There was nothing, absolutely nothing, remarkable about you. You spent the first thirteen years of your life raised in an area where nobody would care if you or your family disappeared. Your father wasn’t in the picture. You didn’t know who he was and your mother refused to talk about him. You quickly learned to stop asking about him when she threw a ceramic tea cup at your head. The memories of your mother were fairly fuzzy, thanks to the years working for Wuxing that shaved time from your lifespan. You remembered the day you found your mother dead, and it was something that you could never forget. You didn’t think you ever could.

Of course, after your mother’s death, your brother spiraled deeper and deeper into gambling. He lost his job. He spent all day most days drunk and wasted instead of sober. You were still too young to get a part-time job, but you were certain that your brother would burn any money you brought in.

You were able to keep you and your brother afloat because sometimes he would come home from gambling with cold hard cash. You’d take some from him when he finally blacked out. He never remembered how much he won, so as long as you left something, you could at least get groceries and pay rent and bills. Even when he caught you and beat you within an inch of your life, you still kept stealing from him. You weren’t going to let yourself be thrown onto the streets. Trying times made you consider learning to pickpocket, but before that could come to a head, Wuxing came knocking.

At that point, you weren’t even sure you were human anymore. You had lost weight. You were covered with bruises that could easily be hidden under school uniforms. Anyone who saw you turned a blind eye, because it wasn’t their business what happened in your home. You hated every second of it, and it all culminated when your brother sold you in an attempt to ease his debts. Your brother’s blood was still warm on your face when Genbu’s men grabbed you. They whispered terrible things in your ear, telling you in explicit detail how they planned to make you pay “your” debt.

Your first few years with Wuxing were something you wished you could scrub from your mind. Yet, you would never be clean of the things done to you and what you had done. Even now you felt like there was a disconnect between you and your body. Just a permanent state of detachment that would rear its head if you weren’t cracking jokes or making a conscious effort.

Fuck, you had to get your shit together before you went to Genbu. Throwing a wad of yen on the table, you stood and headed out. Everything around you was a blur as you made your way to the abandoned police station where Genbu did his business.

There was a specific knock you were supposed to use, but you couldn’t be bothered to remember it. You popped a stick of gum in your mouth before loudly banging on the door and yelling. It had the same effect of getting attention and before you could even strike the door a third time, a disgruntled looking Genbu had opened the door.

“You tryna make trouble?” he grunted.

Your smile was devilishly saccharine. “It’s what I do best.”

Genbu snorted before stepping back and letting you walk in. You hadn’t been to this part of Wuxing’s domain. Each of the Four Symbols had their own regions where they conducted business and very rarely did these overlap. You were one of the few that had seen Seiryu’s underground fighting ring and Byakko’s brothels. Now having visited Genbu’s hideout, you were familiar with each of the Four Symbols’ kingdoms. Probably one of the only lower status members, now that you thought about it.

Wuxing’s upper echelons may spit on you, but even they couldn’t argue that you weren’t good at what you do.

“What couldn’t wait until the big meeting that made you call for me now?” you asked as Genbu closed the door.

“Whoever we caught,” Genbu started, “they know who you are.”

You stared at Genbu. “Yeah, I’m Suzaku’s Lot—”

“No, they know your real name.”

What?

What?

“That doesn’t make sense,” you said, stumbling over your words. You couldn’t hide how shaken you were. Any mention of who you were before sent you into a horrifying spiral. “Nobody should know who I am.”

“That’s what we thought too,” Genbu said.

“We?”

“Follow me.” Genbu didn’t wait for a response before he started walking away. You jogged a little to catch up with him and he walked into a room. Stepping inside you saw Suzaku, Byakko, and Seiryu. Your eyes quickly scanned the room for any sign that you were going to be murdered, but they stopped when they landed on the one way mirror to the adjacent room.

There were four men, each handcuffed to a chair and displaying a variety of bruises and bloodied faces.

“What the hell?” you asked, voice barely a whisper.

“They haven’t given us any useful information,” Genbu said. “But they know who you are, who your mother was, and who your brother was. When we asked further, they said nothing. Just laughed. Said they’d only talk if it was to  you.”

Fuck, it was exactly like the guy you and Rindou had run into. Almost as if they could tell you were staring at them, their heads snapped up and they looked straight at you. Even the Four Symbols stiffened at the sudden movement.

“Did you bring her?” the one third from the right asked. Maybe he was the leader? He sounded familiar, like the one you had met in that warehouse.

They had been locked up here so long you doubted they were high, unless Genbu drugged them during the interrogation. But the unnerving smiles they wore... This was too much for you.

Genbu moved forward and spoke into an old microphone on the desk. “She’s here.”

“No, let her speak.”

Genbu stepped away and motioned you to come forward. You weren’t entirely sure what to say, but you knew you were close to snapping. “I’m here. What do you want?”

You prayed they didn’t hear the waver of your voice, but if they did they gave no indication. “Do you remember your mother?” the leader asked, using your real name.

You shuddered. “Not really,” you lied.

“I see,” he hummed. “Do you know anything about your family?”

Even though they couldn’t see it, you shrugged. “Just that my sperm donor was a deadbeat, Mom hated when we asked about him, and my brother was a bastard.”

That got a chuckle out of the four men in the interrogation room.

“Would you like to know?”

“What?” Your blood froze. Behind you the Four Symbols exchanged confused glances.

“Everything you need to know,” the man said. “You will learn if you—”

“I’m not interested.”

The man frowned. Was he expecting you to give a shit about the people who made your life go from worse to absolute hell? All you cared about was getting out of Wuxing, maybe even the country, and never coming back.

“Just seems like a lot of trouble,” you drawled. “I don’t particularly care about my family history.”

“Are you loyal to Wuxing? Did he convince you to join them?”

You didn’t ask for clarification because if they knew who you were, then surely they knew your brother got you into this mess. “Something like that,” you said, keeping the answer neutral. The last thing you wanted was any of the Four Symbols to think you were betraying them. Well, you supposed your record wasn’t exactly clean in that aspect, but it didn’t include these sorry bastards in front of you.

“That is unfortunate,” the man hummed. “Well, if you ever want answers, consider seeking Nirvana.”

You looked back at Suzaku and Genbu, avoiding eye contact with Byakko and ignoring Seiryu. They were blank faced and likely as confused as you were. Genbu stepped forward and pulled you away from the mic. “What do you mean?” he demanded. “Who are you people? How do you know these—”

Suzaku jerked Genbu back and the man’s words were cut off. Then, like a switch was flipped, the captives dropped their heads and refused to answer any more questions or demands. You were confused to start with, but now it was even worse. You weren’t anyone of importance. You knew you weren’t.

It seemed like the Four Symbols had an idea of what was going on, but they weren’t going to tell you. Rarely did you ever need to know what was happening, and truthfully you didn’t want to. The less you knew about the situation the better.

Ignorance was bliss and you refused to let go of that. “I don’t know what the hell they want from me,” you said. There wasn’t anything defensive about your tone, just confusion and fear.

Genbu ran a hand down his face. “Yeah, we gathered that.” He sighed. “We’re going to have to report this to Kirin.”

You could almost feel the collective groan they didn’t let out. So they hated reporting to their boss too. You would almost feel sympathy if you hadn’t been tormented by every single one of them.

“You’re not coming,” Suzaku said immediately.

“Huh?!” You were genuinely taken aback at how quickly Suzaku snapped that out. “I didn’t say anything and I don’t want to!”

“That’s a first,” Byakko snorted.

You wanted to turn around and snarl at him but you didn’t. “I don’t want to be tangled up in this shit any more than I have to. I don’t know a goddamn thing about what they were saying. I’m not important. You all know this! The only reason you haven’t killed me yet is because of my stupid brother’s debt and because I’m maybe a good runner.”

You didn’t want to break down in front of the Four Symbols, but they said nothing as tears streamed down your face. If they were kinder, they would have taken pity on your confusion and anxiety, but they didn’t care. They had seen enough that you breaking down wasn’t going to faze them.

“Seiryu, take Lotus home,” Suzaku ordered. “I’m going to get in touch with Kirin and figure out what we’re going to do next. Genbu, keep digging for information. Byakko, keep an eye out in your territory.” Suzaku looked you in your stinging, teary eyes, “And Lotus, you don’t fucking go anywhere alone.”

Please do not reupload, translate, or steal my work! If it isn't here or on my ao3, it's not me! Likes & reblogs appreciated! <3 Dividers courtesy of @/cafekitsune & @/firefly-graphics

[luckyshotwrites]

Ch. 85 // Idiocy // Day 59

Contents (Warnings): Lynette starts her training (slight angst, vore mentions, character and monster info as always). Read full chapter on A03

Wordcount: 2,138 (Sorry, I've been busy with some irl problems and new puppy!)

Song I correlate to this Chapter: Not found yet!

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

(Nov. 25th, Friday)

Lynette

We were still off for Thanksgiving 'weekend'. Work resumed tomorrow, Saturday. So, Wicks took it upon himself to stage our training today.

That's why I was a bouncy, nervous wreck. I never used a weapon to fight someone before. 

I also wasn't thrilled to see Garter coming along. Not because I disliked him, I liked Garter, but I didn't want more people to witness my incompetence.

I don't want them laughing at me later. 

Knife? Wicks hadn't mentioned what the weapon was until now. I can't imagine a stab wound would do anything against them. They could use reversal magic and then crush me into dust.

A hand gently caressed my back, rubbing it firm and reassuringly. It jostled my sweater. "It'll be fine. We are going over the basics today. You need to learn how to handle a knife."

I didn't like the idea of being made into a tub of protein powder.

Lev. My mind whirled back to the blender incident. I knew I'd be fine, physically, yet it was an experience I never wanted again.

The umber-skinned male popped up to meet us. He always wore a cheery smile, "If you do good today, we can get ice cream too."

It's a very tempting incentive. I had to act like it wasn't—Wicks remained on standby. He waited to joke with me about being excited for some ice cream. 

I held it back. "That sounds lovely."

"You're trying too hard, Lentils." Wicks whispered to me.

"I don't know what you're talking about." I raised my chin and crossed my arms. 

"And if you fail today, no ice cream," Garter said. 

"What!"

Wicks pulled his arm back, "Yep. You even have to watch us eat it."

Garter pulled back when the elevator dinged for our floor. "Good idea, Boss. We get ice cream regardless. I like it."

"That's not fair," I whimpered. How can they be so cruel? 

Wicks stepped out first. The elevator itself already looked to be of a higher class with the mirrors behind us and the sheer size, capacity, and trim. However, the inside of the building itself felt eerily imposing. Everything looked to be made from wood, polished and gleaming with an invitation I didn't ask for.

The space felt so vast I imagined it'd fit at least two Naga's comfortably, plus I could see there were several halls that looked to branch in different directions as if they were at the center of a maze.

And worst of all, it was quiet. I didn't hear much coming from any direction, except a light tapping that I couldn't see the owner of.

Another subject that made little sense, despite the ornate details done to the walls and grand arches above, there are no chairs, tables or artwork. Nothing.

I barely took a few steps outside, before Garter threw his head in front of me. "Don't worry, I can sneak you some ice cream if you do badly."

He's sweet. 

"Thanks," I whispered back. 

The mystery behind the tapping was solved.

Garter and I moved out of the way for the thin, stalky male, much like Garter, to scramble forward. He went straight for the elevator. I ducked under the long rolls of papers.

They look like building schematics. Is this place new?

"Oh, sorry!" Their voice left in a timid croak. He flipped back to face us—he huffed, and his short chestnut locks spurred out as rushed as he was. 

"You okay, Zetsu?" Wicks put a hand on my arm and pulled me closer, unconsciously. 

He nodded, then heard the elevator door closing, and blocked it with his foot and body. It made his papers fall from his arms and onto the ground. "Ah!" Garter got the door for him while Wicks and I helped clean up. 

"I'm sorry my head has been spinning lately." I piled a few scrolls into his arms.

Wicks loaded the last scroll, "I also thought you were leading us to our block today?"

His loose smile dropped, "Yes! Good thing you caught me, ha, ha..." he let his head fall to the side. He muttered more apologies under his breath. "You're in block D, and the training weapons are out. I just got called upstairs." He bowed his head, "Thank you, Wicks, and..."

He stopped his bow. His vibrant violet eyes, which reminded me of Zilla and Zane's, inspected every inch of me. I felt like they picked at every detail of me. 

"I don't think we've met?"

"She's a new recruit," Wicks said. 

I was told to pretend Wicks and I didn't know each other and I was a rank, classless.

"Well, hello, I'm Zetsûboooooooo," he attempted to put his hand out to me and almost dropped them all again. I threw my hands against him to help keep them in place. He fixed his grip. "Thank you, and call me Zetsu for short."

"I'm Lynette, nice to meet you, Zetsu." I shared a smile, "No handshakes are necessary. You worry about getting to where you got to go with all of those intact."

As I said that, the elevator door Garter was holding open beeped. 

Zetsu threw himself back into it so it could close. "Okay! Thank you, and nice to meet you too, Lynette!" The door closed after.

"Is he a friend of yours too?" I asked Wicks.

"Kinda..." Wicks shifted his gaze. Garter pulled back from the elevator in toe. 

"Did something happen?" I asked, absentmindedly tugging at his hoodie. Is he dangerous? He seemed fine? I'm not the best judge of character, am I? My head scrolled back to Claudia. I would have never known...

Wicks peered down and gently put his hand on mine. "I'll tell you later." 

Garter walked ahead of us, leading. I released his hoodie. Should I be worried? Did I meet some kind of terrible beast? Why would Wicks not want to talk about it now? Were they something to him before.

My eyes widened, and I gasped, "was that the person you were dating? IT wasn't a LIE!"

Wicks stopped in his tracks. He flicked his head to me immediately, utterly confused.

Garter quickly got to us. He used my head as an armrest and encroached upon Wicks's face. "YOU WERE DATING SOMEONE?!" 

The anxious befuddlement grew on my brother's face. "What are you..." he trailed off. Put his lips together to keep his mouth shut and backed up. 

"You were lying to me!" I exclaimed. Garter was still using my head as a rest. 

He yelled out, putting his hands over his face. "I'M SORRY! I couldn't think of anything else to say that might sound plausible! I couldn't tell you the truth yet."

The fingers he tangled with his hair pulled more strands out, and it fell over his face.

His best friend finally let me move freely. "You shouldn't lie about a bond mate if you're embarrassed. I'm without one, but I carry it with pride." 

"It wasn't for that, Garter!" Wicks pushed himself ahead. "No more talking about this, especially not in the halls. Let's get your training started." 

...

Wicks

I can't hurt her. He didn't realize how hard it would be to simply grab Lynette out of things. 

He constantly hesitated and retreated from any slash she did.

Thus, he called a break so she could keep going over the feel, weight, and motions he taught her. 

"What's the matter, Boss?" Garter questioned. His friend loved getting up close and personal with people and to make himself their "height". Every time you do that, I feel smaller...

"What did I say about-" Wicks cut himself off and exhaled. He wouldn't argue about the 'boss' nickname today. He pressed his back further into the wall. "I'm so afraid I might hurt her."

Garter looked over at Lynette, who had her back to them. She was determined, to say the least, even though her form was subpar at best. Especially when she stood before Wicks or Garter with the training weapon. Her hands shook like a chihuahua outside in a thunderstorm. 

"You put a cloak on her; she'll be fine." Garter gave two thumbs up as reassurance. 

"yeah." Wicks bit the bottom of his lip. I would never go that hard on her, but I don't know why I keep imagining it. "I don't know."

Garter stood up straight. He tilted his head to stare at the high ceiling. Then, a bright grin peeled open his lips, his very subtle incisors were shown. "Let me take over. I'll gladly train her!"

What?! "Garter-"

He didn't even let Wicks rebuttal. 

The tall lad made his way across the grounds and to Lynette. "Hey Lynette, I will be your training partner today instead of Wicks!"

Wicks glanced back and forth between her and Garter. She looks tiny. 

The Oni of the mountains waved both of his hands at him when he saw Wicks's concern. "It'll be fine, boss—I'll go super easy on her! Trust me!"

Lynette peered at her big brother. He wouldn't dare... Garter had a track record of hunting smaller prey. They got most of those urges out with training, yet he still falls victim to it occasionally.

The only reason I even brought Garter was because I promised him we'd get some training in today. "Sounds good." Wicks shouted back. He said it for Lynette's nerves and gave the go ahead to Garter. I'll trust him.

Wicks thought, though he intently watched every motion Garter made. 

So far, his best friend didn't purposefully try to break the cloak; instead, Garter never gave her a chance to strike him. He'd quickly grab her out of a strike, pin her down, disarm her, or hold her arms up so she couldn't attack him.

He's just bullying her. 

Wicks sighed, he undid his ponytail entirely. He pet at his straighter hair. He gathered a few things so far. I should start training her in basic combat too. If she knows how to properly move and hit someone, she'd be more effect with a knife. She's relying on the strikes too much.

Garters tease echoed out in the empty, magic enfused steel room, "Do you like getting caught?"

"No!" Lynette whimpered with slight frustration. "I just never fought anyone before!"

Garter returned her knife after he poked her stomach with it, "Weird. Where I came from, you learn to fight as soon as you can walk." He waited for her to get back into a stance. He did the same. "How about I call you what we do to those who haven't learned to fight yet."

"An insult?"

He snickered, "a ginkoose, which translates to a child with newborn strength." 

Lynette shook her head in protest, "It's not my fault you guys are stronger than me—you guys are monsters."  

"In human cases, most monsters aren't much stronger or faster than humans." Garter laughed and pounced at Lynette, "So you're using excuses~!"

Lynette avoided him and continued to do so. Garter gave chase. It's going better than I thought it would. 

And, of course, as soon as Wicks thought that, he noticed Garter's black hair shifting white and flaring with volume.

Wicks pushed off the wall and ran at them, specifically for Garter. "HEY, GARTER, STOP, DON'T YOU DARE!" He couldn't let his friend try and eat Lynette.

Wicks got to Lynette, yanked her out of the way and took the force of Garter's hand as his case broke. He slammed back into the wall, it wasn't that hard, so at least Wicks knew Garter didn't lose all sense of, 'being gentle'.

Once the Oni realized his mistake, now standing at thirty or so feet tall, his four arms out and one pinning Wicks to the metal wall, he let out a nervous chuckle from between his giant fangs.

"I went a little overboard huh?"

"You think?" Wicks asked with an eyebrow raise.

"Are you okay?" Lynette got closer.

Wicks shot her a glare, warning her not too.

Garter didn't let his grip go, "does this technically mean I win since I trapped you?" His best friend said, "and if it does that mean I can eat you?"

A dastardly laugh broke out of Wicks vocal cords, he stared at Garter, "you're in direct contact with a magus, I'm not unconscious nor even trying to use any magic. Then, after trying to get my sister, you have the audacity to ask me if you can eat me?"

"Yes?" Garter said, plainly.

There was a long pause before Wicks noticed the seriousness on Garter's face, accompanied by the innocent puppy dog eyes. Wicks flailed his legs, "YOU AREN'T GOING TO CONVINCE ME, NOW PUT ME DOWN BEFORE I MAKE A SNACK OUT OF YOUR ENERGY!"

...

Hey, you, thank you so much for reading. I'm glad I put out a story that people can enjoy! I hope you continue to enjoy it as WE have a LOT more to go! YOU BETTER KEEP PROSPERING! (Nonnegotiable, as always~).

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What I’d do for a Livable Income (Synopsis/Chapter - List)

[ghost-of-you]

Okay, this may be the longest and craziest analysis I ever did, but under the cut, I will be going into heavy detail about how the complete mess mv has 5sos5 spoilers, easter eggs, whatever you wanna call them.

First I made this post before the album came out and I was focusing on the singles and a longer theory about how the album was gonna go, now I'm just gonna go crazy. I have been thinking about this since the album came out so I'm just gonna do it.

Second I just wanna point out the amount of spinning in the cinematography choices there is in the cm music video and how that alone could be something given the amount of spinning and going in circles imagery there is in the album: "we go around again", "and we're going around again in the emotional blender, "my life is just a carousel spinning around", "hope the world will spin slower", "everything I was spinnin' down the drain", so you know, spinning is something important oskaoskas.

Let's get into it then:

"Run to the east, gotta leave, I need a way out"

I have no geographical proof they were moving east (also I cut most of the clips with them walking around together cuz that was like 30 seconds of the mv sokasoikasok), but I will assume they are for the sake of being right oskaoskas, they are all moving around and they reach the giant mirror and they stop looking up, are they moving east looking for a way out? They could be.

"Take my hand, now and forever, where I stand, just as you're losing yourself again, look in the mirror"

I mean, come on, he's reaching for his reflection, I do not believe this is not on purpose.

I never added mm&i to the discussion before because it was too easy to just put any moment any of them were alone, but if I use the moment they split up and how they are shown walking alone, we have "I did not need your help, now it's just me, myself and I" and I think the way there's 2 mirrored Luke's makes even more sense.

At first, I thought about this as efyts "A darkness that holds me and loves when I bleed, need someone to show me what I couldn’t see" cuz it makes sense, buuuut I like this better thinking about it as emotions and tears. Michael is literally being dragged "fears pulling me down" and that bit also makes me think "violence in the darkness are you seeing what I’m seeing"

Ashton running in place "don’t mind me I’m just feeling kinda broken if you need me I’ll be here with my emotions" it adds up.

I do still like Calum pulling Ashton out for the "A darkness that holds me and loves when I bleed, need someone to show me what I couldn’t see" bit tho, cuz he is pulling Ashton out of the invisible force holding him, showing him another way.

I don't know why I think about this particular shot as much as I do, but it is very interesting to me that while we do see all of them jumping or on the ground, Calum is the only one we see falling.

It could be "Racehorse tripping on the dirt that you got on me" in a more symbolic way, but it could also be "I'm falling for the first time" cuz he's falling and it's the first and only fall of the video splasplapslas

"Lights will guide you, so run like hell"

I mean, they are not running, but the light is guiding them.

"Honey, I can see you when you're reaching out for more"

Ash, Mike and Calum are in the frame while Luke reaches out, COME ON.

I can also take any clip of them having fun at the end of the mv and just go "I got the best friends in this place and I'm holding on" and I like this particularly in the context of the music video because the video begins with them together but are either searching for something or they are very stiff, and in the end they are just vibing. I like that in the context of best friends and the "I see you searching for more but what we have is awesome" energy of the song.

This is what I said when blender came out but I stand by it. But we just can’t keep away when you know me like you do It’s supernatural, got me howling at the moon. Like I said in the beginning there's a lot of spinning in this video, but there's a bit that's just spinning continuously. The spinning bit is when they all get together, they can’t stay away, come on it could make sense, and if you allow me to reach a bit more, let’s focus on only Luke here for a bit. What is that behind him? That’s right, it’s the moon. These are the only shots you can see the moon in the night scenes in the mv, btw. He’s spinning toward the moon. He’s not howling, but that would’ve been weird without context oskaoskaoksoaks. Also, we talked about the colors in this video a lot and something that I can add here too is how the lighting is orange. Orange is what? Yellow and Red. Luke is yellow, Calum is red. Blender is a song that only Luke is singing that is based around the bass. *mic drop*

There also them experiencing the feeling of falling upwards cuz lets face it the name was between 5sos5 and the feeling of falling upwards and they named the ono like that as a compromise.

I can probably keep going, but I'm tired of making gifs sokasokaosk I'll come back if I think of more. If you read this madness please know I love you.