#i had a whole plot going on

[gloomyearthling]

I had the coolest dream (and slightly scary)

Man, I gotta tell you about this dream I had. I literally just woke up, so I have to write it down before I forget.

I'm not really sure where I was, but in my room there was this massive hole in the wall. Don't ask why I wasn't afraid of it, I guess I just had balls of steel. Anyway, I was with a friend and we were discussing this hole. He told me it was weird we had one in the wall and took out his phone and shone a light through it. I didn't personally see anything, but he claimed he saw a pair of eyes that were reflecting the light or whatever. I was obviously a little freaked out by this.

The dream then skips to my bestie and I chatting with the landlord -- I guess we were renting this place. He has handed us this bill that had both a landline and our regular phones. We both argued that we did, in fact, not have a landline. But he brushed us off and told us to pay the bill.

The dream skips again to me just standing by myself in the room with the hole. I have my back facing it and this fucked up looking creature comes crawling out of it. He got behind me and knocked my ass out. The best way I can kind of explain this thing is he had the same face as the mayor in A Nightmare Before Christmas.

That dude, but his limbs were waaaaay longer, and he was more... disheveled. I don't know how to explain him. Anyway, the dream skips again to me on the phone with my dad, and I'm explaining everything to him.

I told him about how there was a section of this massive house we didn't go to. We called it a super cool name, but I can't remember what it was. These next few parts are going to be a bit jumbled because I can't remember the entire dream (I'm starting to forget some details now ☹️).

But I was explaining to my dad about the phone bill we were paying and how we didn't own the landline. Then I looked down at the ground and the creature was curled up in a ball, dead. So, while my ass was knocked out, someone had come in and killed it. I didn't seem to know who, or maybe I woke up before I could spill the deets to my dad. Either way, homie was dead as fuck.

I then started to explain the forbidden zone of the house. My dad, being the only normal one in the dream it seems, asks why there's a whole section of the house that's closed off to the rest of the occupants. I shrug it off like it's no big deal and say I don't know, we just can't go in it. I think I also told him about this massive hole in the wall, but I can't remember.

Along the way, I started to formulate this idea of who this creature was and why there was a landline charge on my phone bill. However, it felt like I knew this part of the plot, not the person who I was playing -- it was like real life Sunni was given parts of the plot, but not dream Sunni. So, apparently, this creature was a corrupt judge and the forbidden part of the house was where he operated with a bunch of other people.

The landline was being used to do some sketchy shit and to hide their tracks, they had added it to my phone bill so I would pay for it, and I guess I wouldn't notice it? No idea the logic behind that decision. Anyway, something horrible happened and this corrupt judge was turned into this horrible creature. I had this feeling there were more creatures in the forbidden zone, and there was this massive secret that I was about to uncover. But I woke up before my dream self could uncover the entire plot.

But yeah, I'm sad I didn't get to solve the mystery of the landline phone or the origins of the fucked up judge dude. That dream was one of my cooler ones and I kinda want to make a story out of it. I dunno. Either way, that was a cool-ass dream and I wanted to share it here.

[yukipri]

For curiosity's sake...

[m1d-45]

will you promise that i'll see you again?

summary: your people refuse reason, and their damage refuses to heal. when it seems as if the whole world has left you, your dutiful knight still remains by your side.

word count: 2.3k

-> warnings: implied suicidal ideation (reader + unnamed side character), reader's previous deaths are mentioned in somewhat graphic detail

-> gn reader (you/yours)

taglist: @samarill || @thenyxsky || @valeriele3 || @shizunxie || @boba-is-a-soup || @yuus3n || @esthelily || @turningfrogsgay || @cupandtea24 || @genshin-impacts-me || @chaoticfivesworld || @raaawwwr || @yuryuryuyurboat || @undrxtxd || @rainswept || @wanderersqt || @rozz-eokkk

< masterlist >

“you’re one of the only things keeping me going, you know.”

dainslef turned to you in surprise, the even neutrality to your tone a sharp contrast to the rapid pace of his heart. he wasn’t a fool, he knew that the hunt had to be taking a heavy toll on you, but this…

this was more than he expected.

he knew he was one of a pitiful few who saw through celestia’s false puppet, who knew you for you and not their mirage. he knew that the entire world was hellbent on erasing you from existence, that you’d been forced through your own death countless times as teyvat pulled you apart and pushed you back together far from the scene of your would-be murder. he saw the golden scars across your skin, the dried remains of blood lining the wounds you hadn’t been able to patch yet. he’d been the one to wash them away, not minding the refuse soaking into his gloves if it meant your hands could be clean.

he recognized the dull exhaustion in your eyes, the same as the ones he saw in the reflections of lakes. tired, worn, barely there, hanging on by one solitary string that was wound so tightly around a desperate hand.

you had always been his reason for continuing. when the traveller broke down and the ruler of the abyss hid from the sun, you were there. when the chasm’s mud clung to his boots and the memories in his head burned as nails forced between his eyes, you were there. his rosary was kept tight to his chest at all times, familiar prayers pulling him up in the morning and forcing him to sleep at night. he was alive for far, far too long, but you made it bearable. you were his duty, his promise.

he never once thought that he’d be yours. then again, he never thought that he’d have to defend you from the ones you once called friends. time never did pass how he expected it to.

“…leading light?”

you looked down, twirling blades of grass around your fingers. he had led you up to a mostly desolate area of sumeru, west of bayda harbor. it close enough to the sea, forest, and desert that you could reasonably make an escape through any of those routes if need be, while also providing a rather pleasant view. the sky was bleeding red and gold as the sun sank below the horizon, a remarkable sight that fell on blind eyes. there was no use trying to enjoy nature’s beauty when he still kept one hand on his sword and both ears pricked for the slightest sign of danger.

you shouldn’t have to worry about your safety. you shouldn’t have to prioritize based on how likely you are to get hurt, or how easily it would be to make an escape. you still flinched when the wind blew a little too quick, used to it heralding armored footsteps and battle cries. in another life, you were welcomed with open arms, able to enjoy yourself without constantly being on high alert. teyvat did what it could to adapt; the air was still, frozen in time, barely a bird chirping for miles. it was meant to be comforting, he thinks, but dead silence was more unnerving than any breeze.

“i mean it.” he could hear every shift in his cloak around your shoulders, the heavy fabric doing little to soothe your stress. it was yours more than it was his now, to the point he felt claustrophobic wearing it. how long had he been traveling with you? the days blurred.

“i don’t doubt you.” he never would. never could. he’s not sure, even if he somehow wanted to, that his body would allow him to treat your words as anything less than fact. “but i don’t understand what you mean.”

you were a god. the creator, the first, the one that shaped the sovereigns scales and laid the foundations of earth. you predated the archons, celestia, the very skies themselves…

and he, somehow, was a driving motivation for you?

his words must have been funny, a sharp laugh tumbling out of your mouth. it was bitter, humorless, and somewhat raspy. he made note to find some water for you later. “what else could i mean?” you turn to him, some of his confusion lost as your eyes found his. even this burnt out, deep bags set beneath them, you still managed to steal the very air in his lungs. “you’re the only reason i’m still here.”

he didn’t know what to say. what was there to be said, when you were you and he was him? when the world had abandoned you, it made sense you’d cling to what remained faithful. it was merely coincidence he happened to find you first, that’s all. coincidence that you trusted enough not to run from, coincidence that you allowed to care for your injuries. there was nothing to say, because you held nothing for him in particular, only leaning on him out of need. he had to believe that. what was he left with if that wasn’t true? an awkward truth hid beneath his well-known lies, too large for him to see the edges, let alone to contain.

“please… do not say such things again.” to ask of his god what he could not ask of himself was surely some form of heresy, as was willingly laying aside his guard when he was the only one who was tasked with protecting you. he pulled his attention from the tide below, from the rustling trees, holding faith that the world would not be needlessly cruel. he stepped forward, kneeling beside you. even up close, you still seemed painfully small. “it is your own resilience that has allowed you to persevere.”

it’s the earth that leads you from danger.

it’s the water that follows you wherever you go.

it’s the leylines that whisk you to safety.

it’s the wind that warns you of what’s to come.

it’s the you from the past that protects the you in the present.

it’s the you in the present that provides for the you in the future.

it’s you, from everywhere and everywhen, continuing to fight.

and yet you sigh. you look away, across the sea, tracing fontaines skyline. “it really isn’t. i was lucky to run into you when i did.”

you had just crossed the wall back into the forest, burning hot and shaking. he was the lucky one, in truth, to be able to pick your figure out from the sand below. perched on a high cliffside, even mitachurls were reduced to small brown flecks.

you had worn a cryo mage’s cloak, which was what initially drew his attention. abyss activity wasn’t uncommon in the area, but a cryo mage in the desert… that was cause for intrigue. he stepped forward and slid down the steep face in front of him, a slight puff of dust marking his landing in the desolate sand of old vanarana.

he didn’t know what to expect. you stumbled around the jagged remains of a tree, heading for the statue of the seven. he followed, only growing more confused. cryo and dendro did not react with each other, and there was no way to “slow” a statue. a scouting mission, maybe? but why a cryo mage, when pyro would have been far more advantageous in the case of an attack?

he leaned around the corner carefully, prepared for the sight of a staff or the chanting of abyssal magic filling the air. the entire world seemed to be holding its breath, frozen in place and waiting for some trigger to continue.

he saw none of that. you were collapsed at the foot of the statue, faint wheezing only making it to his ears by virtue of the standstill around him. you held no staff, commanded no magic, your chest barely moving with air.

he’d never seen a mage seek out the archons when dying. one hand squeezed the handle of his sword as he crept forward, ready to strike should the situation turn against him. the sand barely shifted beneath his feet, his own heart sounding too loud to his ears. you did not move, showing no signs that you had noticed his approach. he still didn’t trust it.

your cloak was tattered and torn, with thick gloves atypical of a mage. they reminded him more of hilichurl wraps, which was strange considering you wore no mask. your face was instead covered by what looked like eremite cloth, just as stained and dirtied as the rest of your clothes. what he could see looked almost human; in another life, he could believe you were a weary traveller, lost amidst the sand.

he was acting foolish. if the abyss had a human tool, he needed to figure out why. he reached down, undoing the sloppy knot of your veil and letting the brocade fall limply to the grass.

…grass. he blinked, eyes flickering between the ground and your face, not sure which was harder to believe. flowers had bloomed around you, protecting your body from the blazing sands, and he’d be a fool not to recognize the face plastered all over every bounty board.

he didn’t understand. if nothing else, he thought the archons would have enough respect for their creator to know when they were being lied to, yet before him was barely living proof of the inverse. sweat beaded along every inch of exposed skin, deep-set heat exhaustion burning you from the inside out. how could you be a threat? how could they be so blind?

he looked again, the shine of elemental sight straining his eyes, catching flickers of the dendro energy pouring from the statue. you were the only one the archons would feed. you were the only one to make the very earth break its own rules, allowing lotuses to bloom from barren soil. something painfully similar to rage threatened what remained of his rationality, and it took all he had to push it aside.

that didn’t matter. if he went off on some banal revenge quest, he’d be no better than them. your safety mattered more. he picked you up and set aside how calm his curse felt, beginning the trek back to his camp. behind him, the flowers already began to wither, losing their persistence without you to foster it.

perhaps that initial meeting was luck. but these was no luck involved in your trust in him. when you woke up and saw him at your side, you chose to trust him. you chose to believe that he was not like the others, that he would protect you, and he was forever grateful for that trust. nobody could fault you for being angry, for being spiteful about what you were put through and choosing to lash out. nobody would have the right to be upset if you chose to vent your wrath against those that had hurt you.

but you didn’t. you chose, again and again, to believe in the world. you chose to let them live their lives, even if it meant getting hurt again in the process. you chose a quiet life traveling with him over the comfortable life on your throne. to willingly choose to travel with a disgraced knight to spare your people guilt… he couldn’t decide if it was noble or reckless. either way, he was selfishly happy that he was the one to stay by your side.

“i won’t try to convince you. but, please.. do not give up on yourself so easily.” i know far too many who have died by the same hand. “the world and its opinion does not define you. only you get to decide where fate leads.”

you lean towards him, and he thinks you might have passed out- but no, your head lands on his shoulder with far too much precision. he stiffens, not used to existence without a constant pain beneath his skin. “how motivational. you tell all your soldiers that?”

his heart is beating too quickly, thoughts unusually hard to grasp. you’re the only one who could have this effect on him. he only wished it wasn’t now, when your belief in yourself was on the edge. “i mean it. none of this is your fault, and neither are celestial actions the people’s fault. i know that you are hurt, but i don’t want you to accept that main needlessly. you shouldn’t have to view your creation with such pain.” slowly, carefully, he raises the hand closer to you, doing his best not to disturb you as he settles it on your arm. he’s can only hope that the contact brings you as much comfort as it does him. “if nothing else, believe me. promise you’ll at least try.”

he doesn’t think you’ll agree. why would you make a promise to one who represents the heaven’s betrayal? why would you let him hold you close at all, when you can surely sense the bindings of those who tried to kill you wrapped tightly around his soul? he doesn’t know. all he can do is hope.

“…alright, dainslef. i promise.”

twilight has long since fallen, and yet he smiles for the first time in centuries.

[thewingedwolf]

the arryn line has died out so many times they always have a backup line ready to be the next arryn, these bitches are just sooooo bad at living. everyone’s always picking on the starks for getting nearly wiped out but damn ned & cat really hunkered down and repopulated the hell out of the family tree, like the starklings aren’t doing that bad, meanwhile you just like, sneeze too hard in the direction of the eyrie and the whole arryn line is on the brink of extinction, but it’s okay, they follow strict osha guidelines in the vale and they have a protocol for this very common scenario

[phoenixcatch7]

It's always funny to me when in an lu fic the chain is offered bananas and don't accept them. Like, you're offering these high energy adventures free food?? Fruit they'll have never even heard of before??? A ridiculously expensive imported good at best?? AND it boosts your attack?

Not ONE of these idiots would ever turn down something new and interesting to eat at least once. They'd be all over those bananas and immediately get dubbed yiga and I'm honestly surprised no one has used it in a fic yet 🤭

[overtake]

A random scene from my Maxiel hockey au just because

“Why the fuck does this team give us perfectly identical sweatshirts? How am I ever meant to find mine?” Daniel asks, pawing through the clothes piled precariously on one of the barstools.

“It’ll probably be the one with your number on it,” Max says drily. “And teams tend to have matching clothing.”

Daniel looks up from his careful searching and tosses Max the finger. “Just for that, I’m wearing yours.”

Max’s hoodie is technically the same size as Daniel’s because Daniel prefers to size up, but it’s stretched out around the shoulders in a way Daniel’s isn’t. There’s a small stain by the left cuff whereas Daniel keeps his pristine. Most notably, there’s a 33 over the left chest instead of a single digit. It feels more lived-in and comfortable than Daniel’s, even though Daniel probably wears his jumpers twice as often as Max does.

He pops his head of the neckline and adjusts the strings. “Alright. I’m set. Let’s go.”

Max is paused with his keys in hand, mouth slightly parted and eyes burning holes into the number screenprinted on the fabric.

“You can’t get mad. I told you I was taking it,” Daniel says, even though Max doesn’t seem upset. Daniel can’t quite identify the expression crossing his face, but it’s definitely not annoyance.

“Don’t spill anything on it,” Max finally says.

Daniel catches up to him at the door and sticks the stained arm in Max’s face. “Don’t worry. You took care of that first.”

Max shoves his arm away, rolling his eyes playfully. “I’m not driving you anymore. You can hobble to the rink.”

Daniel switches positions to wrap his upper body around Max’s broad back, clasp his hands around Max’s neck, and jerk one leg up as if he’s about to jump for a piggy-back ride. Max elbows him off, giggling and pink-cheeked.

“Fine, I suppose I can give you a ride, but I’m not buying your tea,” Max warns. He undercuts his threatening words by instinctively holding Daniel’s hip, pale fingers pressed into plush fabric and waiting in case Daniel’s ankle gives out. Daniel has been successfully walking with no problems for a full week now, but Max is always hovering and holding.

“But I’m cold,” Daniel pouts, dramatically sticking out his lower lip. He’s just being annoying, but a gust of chilly air actually hits as he says it. Daniel shivers, pulling the jumper tight over his hands and moving closer to Max to try and leech some of his body heat. “I need this. Respect those of us from hot countries who played in hot states for ages.”

Max laughs, slinging an arm around Daniel’s back and tugging him into a mocking hug. “Poor Daniel. You only have to play in the NHL for the most iconic team in the craziest hockey city. Your life is very hard because it’s sometimes below zero and I don’t buy you tea.”

Daniel pulls his hands upward and dramatically rubs them together, then huddles into Max and presses his clasped hands between their chests. He doesn’t care if the hug is teasing. He’s genuinely fucking cold.

“You’re not allowed to be mean to me. I’m still injured.” He pokes out his healed ankle and lightly kicks Max’s leg with it. Max is in shorts, exposing fuzzy, muscled calves to Canadian January because he’s batshit insane.

“I’m hugging you,” Max says, rubbing his free hand up and down Daniel’s back. “I am very nice.”

Daniel presses his face into Max’s shoulder, just for a second. “Yeah. You’re not too bad, I guess.”

Shortly into their drive, Max detours, parallel parks, and comes back with a massive tea and crinkly brown bag.

“Their tea is shit and the donut is vegan,” Max says. His furrowed brow is aiming for admonishing, but the tugged edges of his mouth and dramatic tone give him away. “That’s your punishment.”

He still accepts the torn pieces of donut Daniel presses to his pink mouth and licks off the crumbs that decorate the sweet freckle on his upper lip.

“Wait. You have —” Daniel covers his thumb with the blue fabric of Max’s sweater and wipes one last sprinkle away as Max pulls into a parking space.

Max catches Daniel’s wrist before he can pull it back to his own body. He stares Daniel down with big eyes and long lashes and plucks the sprinkle where it’s caught on the ribbed cuffs. Max places one hand on Daniel’s chin and pulls down his lower lip, then places the sprinkle into Daniel’s salivating mouth.

“Don’t waste food.”

Max’s hands linger for one heated second before he drops them to turn off the ignition. Daniel tries to calm the thud of his straining heart, breathing in then out in an attempt to regain some normalcy.

He takes long enough that Max knocks on his passenger-side window, peering in and making little glasses over his eyes and waving all goofy, like nothing had just happened.

He eventually pulls open Daniel’s car door for him, gesturing out to the grey pavement. “Are you planning on showing up to practice today?” he teases.

Daniel recovers enough to slide out, though not gracefully, and heads into the rink to get chirped into oblivion over the 33 that feels throbbing and alive over his still-racing heart.

[goldensunset]

like do you know how much the ‘oooh snap it’s marluxia he’s evil!’ ‘wait no that’s his sister!’ ‘who’s the traitor??? who’s the impostor??? murder mystery!!!’ ‘ven is vanitas!’ ‘wait no!’ ‘the player is xehanort!’ works do for khux? even years after the fact, knowing the truth, looking back through fandom history to see what people used to think at each point in time is SO fun. i kept those kinds of things in my mind the whole time while watching even despite knowing better

[mazojo]

Anyways XO Kitty love interests summarized

Dae

Min Ho

Yuri

[carolperkinsexgirlfriend]

Steddie Upside-Down AU Part 87

Part 1 Part 86

Mom’s hovering in front of the door, a knife in her hand, trying to get the rest of them to get away from the window. It’s not working. If anything, Max’s nose only presses more firmly to the glass with every request she makes.

Will’s hovering just behind her, desperate to keep Steve and Eddie in his line of sight. He can just barely see the wisp of a curl through the side window of the van, bouncing as Eddie moves around inside.

He squints, trying to keep the hair in sight as the movement becomes more erratic.

Will hears glass breaking just as he loses sight of Eddie entirely, wisps and all.

He rushes past his Mom, using the weight of his body to open the door, even as she stands in the way. It’s almost involuntary, a compulsion to follow the thread that Eddie’d pulled him by.

“Will, don’t!” she cries, but it’s too late. He’s out, and through.

Mike calls after him, too, and there’s the sound of tennis shoes stampeding out of the house behind him. Will only hopes he’s not leading them all to their impending doom.

Bodies slump into the driveway, none of them human. They’re like if the Demogorgon had followed a different evolutionary chain. Dustin would find it fascinating. Will just wants Eddie and Steve back.

Wayne’s still standing sentry, looking out across the street, waiting for more monsters to creep in from the darkness, Barbara by his side.

Shielding the entrance to the van, is El.

“El!” It’s Mike, because it always is. He sounds so genuinely elated that something curdles and dies in his throat. He swallows it down, hopes it decomposes in his stomach, so he never has to look directly at it. “You came!”

El smiles, happily at Mike, then around to all of them. “Of course.” She looks over at Max, and she’s frowning now, that way she does when she doesn’t understand something. It used to happen all the time. Now, it’s rare.

Will doesn’t care, can’t when Eddie’s too quiet in the van somewhere Will can’t see. He pushes past her, too.

There’s a misshapen, monstrous foot sticking out of the broken window. He stares at it for a second before swinging the door open. It wrenches the foot strangely, makes it crack and tear with the resistance of the door before it breaks free, black blood flowing like the thing’s still alive. 

It stays still. 

Will looks past it, and finds Eddie’s pale face.  

There’s glass in his hair, and his palms are bleeding where they’re held in front of him, but he’s breathing. Alive. And he’s looking up at El like she’s answered all his prayers. Will and Eddie have been sharing the same prayers from the same broken pews for so long that for a second, Will thinks Steve is back. 

He scrambles over the dead thing blocking his entrance. It’s cold against his palms, flesh barely giving as he crawls hand over feet atop it. But, Steve’s still just sitting there, blinking, Carol huddled into his side like he can protect her, even like this.

“Steve needs your help,” Eddie says, plaintive. Begging with both voice and unblinking eyes, gaze locked on El’s own until she breaks it to look at where Steve still sits, unbothered.

Her brow furrows, eyes squinting like she’s peeling off layers of skin and meat to get to whatever’s underneath. “He’s lost?” she asks.

Carol is squinting at El like the words aren’t clicking for her. She looks back to Steve, then back to El, brow furrowing with anger.

Eddie nods. Will clears his throat. “Not like last time,” he clarifies. “He’s here, but his mind isn’t.”

El nods, decisive. “I will help.”

“What the hell are you all talking about!” Carol demands, even as people scatter around her, setting up for El’s latest rescue mission. “He’s right there!”

She’s not looking at Will, though. She’s looking at Eddie like it’s all his fault. Still, when Steve doesn’t say anything, her lip wobbles as she turns and asks, “right Steve?”

He doesn’t answer, even as she calls again. Will looks away when she bites her lips, eyes wide.

It’s easier this time. They don’t have to break into the school, don’t have to find a pool. El just sits cross-legged in front of Steve on the carpet, careful to stay away from the broken glass and the dead thing. Mike covers her eyes with Wayne’s flannel while the man himself switches the radio dial until he finds one with enough white noise to satisfy.

He can’t quite tune out the murmured conversation between Eddie and Carol, though, no matter how hard he tries. Eddie explains, in clipped, emotionless words, that something, one of the monsters from the other place she’d just gotten a taste of, has taken over Steve. 

“But we’re getting him back?” she asks, voice shrill and breaking, contrasting with Eddie’s own even tone. A veteran to the newbie in the warzone. 

Will, suddenly, feels terribly old. 

“Quiet now,” El demands. 

Eddie looks away from Carol without answering. There is no answer to that question when they’re all subsisting off hope, and not much else.

“Tell him we’re coming, okay?” Eddie asks. He’s looking down at his own bloody palms now, like he can’t bear to look at their last bastion of hope and wait for it to flame and go out. 

“Ask ‘im how to stop the thing taking ‘im over,” Wayne interjects. 

Eddie’s lip wobbles. Will knows how he feels. He doesn’t want Steve to know, if he’s in there at all, that they don’t know what to do. Neither does Will. He wants to save Steve. He always wants to save Steve.

But, Eddie finally looks up, meeting Will’s eyes before nodding. The movement knocks a tear free, but his voice sounds clear when he says, “Ask him how we kill the fucker.”

El nods, shoulders settling as she reaches out to take Steve’s hand. The white noise blankets them all. Will settles down to wait. 

That’s what they always do, when Steve is dying: they wait. This time is no different. 

Part 88

Taglist: @deany-baby @estrellami-1 @altocumulustranslucidus @evillittleguy @carlprocastinator1000 @hallucinatedjosten @goodolefashionedloverboi @newtstabber @lunabyrd @cinnamon-mushroomabomination @manda-panda-monium @disrespectedgoatman @finntheehumaneater @ive-been-bamboozled @harringrieve @grimmfitzz @is-emily-real @dontstealmycake @angeldreamsoffanfic @a-couchpotato @5ammi90 @mac-attack19 @genderless-spoon @kas-eddie-munson @louismeds @imhereforthelolzdontyellatme @pansexuality-activated @ellietheasexylibrarian @nebulainajar @mightbeasleep @neonfruitbowl @beth--b @silenzioperso @best-selling-show @v3lv3tf0x @bookworm0690 @paintsplatteredandimperfect @wonderland-girl143-blog @nerdsconquerall @sharingisntkaren @canmargesimpson @bananahoneycomb

[jajanvm-imbi]

Hey remember when I said that this was the most frustrating thing about being a Helluva Boss enjoyer?

Yeah I was wrong.

The most frustrating thing about being a Helluva Boss enjoyer is explicitly stating multiple times that I like show and then get called an anti and homophobic and media illiterate when I complain about the direction it has taken.

I LIKE the comedy

I LIKE the animation and artstyle

I LIKE the more serious plotlines like the government agents plot and the Cherubs plot

I LIKE the themes of friendship and found family

I even like most of the songs!

And ofc the voice cast slays every time

But just because your show has angst and tears and drama and sad music doesn't automatically make it "good".

Just because your characters are queer doesn't automatically make them good or well written characters

This fandom is so frustrating to deal with when you want to express your more nuanced takes of it

This is probably gonna be the last post I make about this subject and about Helluva Boss in general, this shit is too stupid to deal with

[fawndlyvenus]

I am looking at @emberfaye @the-cookie-of-doom ,and @snickerdoodlles specifically for this one. (Look at what you three have done!… thank you.)

Kim wanted to collapse after his day. Filming for a music video three days in a row was not fun. He didn’t want to see another makeup artist for the next week. And he felt like he’d bust a camera into little bitty pieces if one appeared right now.

He stripped almost immediately after entering the apartment him and Chay shared, and scrubbed layer after layer of makeup from his skin, as well as whatever they had put in his hair to set it this time. Once he was feeling somewhat normal again, Kim pulled one of Chay’s t-shirts from the closet on over his head, and breathed deep.

The scent of Chay was magic at making him feel more relaxed – and until Chay came back from classes, this would have to do. Slipping on some old sweatpants, Kim returned back to the bathroom to scrub his mouth clean of the dry, icky feeling of the day.

As he was preparing his toothbrush, he saw it – his bare neck. His agitation and grumpy mood now doubled. Chay hadn’t left a single mark in days because of this shoot. Not a single hicky or bite mark colored his neck, and it honestly made Kim feel off.

Wearing Chay’s marks was grounding. It was something that made him feel special and wanted. To know that he was so loved and important to someone, and that they wanted him to know it every time he looked in the mirror. It made Kim feel something curl up warm and tight in his chest seeing exactly where Chay’s mouth had laid claim to him.

And now he felt cold and bare looking at his perfectly flawless neck.

Kim brushed his teeth at lightning speed, before padding back out and curling up on the sofa in the living room. Kim tried not to think about it. His leg bounced as his feelings intensified, and no amount of tv or doom scrolling on social media could stop it.

Kim was a dog with a bone. A very Chay-shaped bone, and he wasn’t going to let it go for anything. Checking his phone, Kim saw that Chay still had about an hour left before he’d be back.

Kim could do this. He could last an hour.

Kim moved into the kitchen, threw himself into cooking a meal, but his mind immediately went back to Chay.

Had Chay ate? What would he want to eat for dinner? How hungry would he be? Too hungry to mark his-

Nope! Kim left the half-cut vegetables sitting on the cutting board, and moved back to the sofa to stop his thoughts. He picked up his guitar and began to idly strum some chords. His fingers moved, but his mind stayed exactly where it had been – pacing an ever growing worn spot on his mental carpet.

Chay would think he was needy for wanting him to mark him first thing when he got home. Was he needy? No, he just liked his boyfriend’s mouth on him. That was totally normal and not needy of boyfriends, right? Wanting his skin littered with proof that Chay wanted him, as much as he wanted Chay, was absolutely normal and not needy.

Kim – lost in his thoughts – almost missed the sound of the locks on the front door disengaging and opening. Almost. Bolting up, Kim half ran to the entrance and felt his body react accordingly to seeing that familiar mop of black hair, and large doe-like eyes.

“P’Kim! Your back-oof!” Chay’s words were cut short as Kim crowded him against the wall. Kim crashed their lips together, and felt the all-too-familiar zing of electricity shoot down his spine as he did. Kim felt the way Chay’s body vibrated under him as a series of giggles slipped past their moving lips.

Pulling away, Chay finally let out the last bit of his laughter. “I think you missed me,” Chay teased.

Only a lot. Kim’s brain supplied for him before he could shoot it down. Kim moved to resume their previous make-out session, but was stopped by Chay tugging at the back of Kim’s hair. Kim let out a small hiss – not because it hurt, but because it sent a whole new wave of pleasure through him.

Chay’s eyes had darkened, and he looked somehow sinful, yet adorable, as he cocked his head to the side to look at Kim. Tugging gently at the hair still trapped between his fingers, Chay scanned Kim’s face, looking for something.

“What is it you want, love?” Chay’s words sent another zing down his spine, but also a lick of something bitter with it. Why did he have to say it? Why couldn’t Chay just know what Kim wanted and do it? He probably did know, but Chay wanted Kim to tell him, but Kim didn’t know how.

He couldn’t just say “mark me till I know I’m yours without question,” because that was definitely needy. But he also knew Chay would like that. Chay would definitely, positively like that.

Kim felt a few more tugs on his hair, as Chay waited for him to find the words, which were proving difficult to get out. Swallowing a worrying amount, Kim finally found his voice, “Mark me. Mark me till I know I’m yours.”

“Good boy,” was the last thing Kim heard Chay say, before he felt the warm and wet suction of Chay’s mouth on his neck. Kim was in heaven as Chay sucked and bit at his neck. He didn’t care about the sounds he was making or the fact he was basically clawing the wall behind Chay.

It felt glorious to finally have the thing that he most wanted and the knowledge that after Chay was done with him, he’d have the most beautiful necklace of proof that Chay loved him, and that he was Chay’s. And that was exactly what he always wanted. Forever.

[ganondoodle]

is it too much of a reach to say that zelda being reduced to basically an object to farm items from in totk just kinda adds more salt to the wound of how badly shes treated?

[arsenicflame]

Hornigold's Izzy was the worst, of course. A version of himself that never escaped that terrible place, who lived his life as little more than an object. He still has nightmares about all the things Baz told them, about all the things he didn't.

It doesn't really surprise him, after the first ones, not at its root. To be Izzy Hands is to be someone's after all, though seeing his own face on someone so fundamentally different to him never gets less weird. The people who these other Izzys attached themselves too often left him with more questions than answers. Jack's Izzy, he can understand, from a certain view, though the man himself felt like a fever dream. The less said about Stede's Izzy the better, he's never going to forgive him for the ideas he put in his Stede's head.

Then there was Sam's Izzy.

The first thing anyone noticed about him was that he was happy. He smiled and laughed without thought, and went through life with an ease Izzy didn't think he had ever felt. The crew took to him immediately, accepting him in a way they never did the other Izzys, and certainly not their own. They prodded him and asked him endless questions, and he took every touch without a flinch and answered every question without a hint of a grumble. This Izzy was free. He was open, unburdened, trusting. He was happy.

Sam's Izzy was the one that hurt the most to see. He could accept the worst that Hornigold could've offered, that he would have suffered and been broken. It was infinitely harder to see that he had a chance to be this happy. That it slipped through his fingers.

He's never looked back before, but now? Seeing what might've been? He can't stop himself from considering the possibility that maybe he made the wrong choice back then, going with Ed.

[nyoomfruits]

So this is slightly on the edge of a director’s cut question, but the dynamic between charles and max in where I am going is absolutely hilarious (as with most things yours, everything that goes on in the background is at least as entertaining as the main story). Do they ever get anywhere or is it going to go on like that for a while for them?

Additional question: favourite background plot/thing?

FUNNY STORY i actually started writing the lestappen sequel. it's on hold now while i work on the summer fic but here's a snippet:

The bell above the door tinkles softly as Charles pushes his way inside Max and Daniel’s café. Behind him, a watery sun is illuminating the still wet pavement, a tentative promise that maybe, just maybe the first real summer days are finally here.

“Charlie boy!” Daniel hollers, from where he’s leaning against the coffee machine behind the counter. “My man! You’re early.”

“Meeting with Lando,” Charles says, leaning over the counter to bump his fist against Daniel’s outstretched one, trying not too obviously look around. “Is uh, Max in?” He glances at the kitchen doors as he says it, the little round windows in the double swinging doors too small for him to see anything through.

Daniel grins knowingly at him. “He’s doing something with sauces, I think. Hey, do you want to try my newest coffee creation?”

Charles hums, still trying to get a peek through the door. Sauces means stove, and stove means he’s on the left side, so if Charles moves a little bit to the right he should be able to-

“Wonderful!” Daniel says, gleefully pushing his way off the coffee maker. “I’ve been working on my breakfast series, you see. After the success of the English Breakfast Latte and the Omelet Frappuchino it is time for my next star,” he continues, fiddling with the piston before moving on to the blender. “The Iced Avocado Toast Coffee.”

There. There’s a movement through the little window, a flash of white that might actually be Max’s chef jacket, or maybe a tea towel he just slung over his shoulder, but he’s there. “Ah,” Charles says, rather noncommittally. “Interesting.”

“Right? Avocado coffee is already a thing in Vietnam, so it was kind of easy to adapt,” Daniel says, before whirring the blender to life with the flick of a switch. “Now the toast part is kind of the difficult thing. Same as the English Breakfast Latte I’m using a heavily roasted coffee bean to simulate that kind of toasted mouth feel of, well, toast, but I feel like I’m not pushing it enough yet, you know?”

“Oh for sure,” Charles says. At that moment, three things happen at once. The bell above the door tinkles softly again, Daniel puts a finished glass of iced coffee in front of him, and Max takes a step back, finally appearing in full view of the tiny swinging door window.

It’s unfair, really, how Max still manages to steal Charles’s breath away a little, even after all these years. His back is mostly turned towards the door, but Charles can see his side profile, his brows frowning in concentration, the downward tilt of his mouth as he considers something that’s just out of view. Charles wishes things were different, that he could just wander in through the swinging doors, kiss the corner of Max’s mouth, the crease between his eyebrows, until he was no longer frowning but laughing instead.

But he can’t do that. And he won’t do that. And so instead he watches mournfully as Max steps out of view again, gets back to work.

[relicsongmel]

As much as Phoenix using Maya/Mia to get information out of Victor Kudo during Recipe for Turnabout makes me uncomfortable because he basically blindsided her with a situation in which her being ogled was literally the whole point (even if he didn't foresee it not working and Maya deciding to channel her sister as a result), I can't help but be fascinated by Mia's whole behavior in that scene and how it reminds me of Dahlia. The fact that they both hide that they'd really rather not be there with a polite smile and take full advantage of their femininity to nullify the potential threat of men and get what they want from them? It can't be a coincidence—it's gotta be a deliberate parallel on the part of the writers because there's simply no way they weren't highlighting that Mia and Dahlia can't wash away the similarity of their mannerisms despite the fact they're mortal (immortal?) enemies. There's no way they weren't using this to slyly foreshadow the fact that they're related do you guys SEE MY VISION

[ageofzero]

Yuna is the antagonist of a potential Final Fantasy X-3, thank you for coming to my TED Talk

edit: okay I'll put it under a read more since it'll be a long post (but not as long as my entire conversation was), but what's promised is due.

Now that I have to make the post for real I had to do some wiki reading on what the actual Things going on in the novella were, and… well, a lot of my theorycrafting was based on incomplete and kinda inaccurate information. BUT I can’t read Japanese, the book was never released here, and I am going to go with rule of cool for a little bit of this even as I keep the stuff that sounds kinda dumb on the surface. I’ll be the first to say that Tidus exploding from a bomb he thinks is a blitzball is dumb (true), and Chuami thinking she’s Auron’s daughter is a dumb plot beat (petty), but I’m weaving this bridge and I’m not going to rewrite those. I am going to change some contexts and make them exist in a narrative that I hope is compelling. That’s my disclaimer, now I’m gonna get into it.

SO.

The scenario from the novella and audio drama is thus: Tidus died again in an accident, and Yuna brings him back. But he’s not back in the same way that the Fayth gave this dream a real living body at the end of X-2. The official term for it is “beckoned”, but I probably won’t use that to describe him based on my previous understanding. No matter if he’s beckoned or not, or whatever terminology you want to use, the thing is that Yuna summoned him back. She’s holding him to life, and he can never know. It’s been a year since the moment Tidus died, and Yuna has seemingly regressed into patterns that put her into what was once Yevon’s circle. Tidus is looking injured/weakened (“Chuami: It wasn’t just [Tidus’s] words that felt hollow. When I shook his hand, his grip felt weak and lifeless... I think he’s injured. Or maybe he’s sick or something.”), and people are looking to Yuna for help or information regarding the strange not-quite Unsent (the beckoned) that are appearing in places in Spira. Help she is not capable of giving. Wakka and Lulu are protecting her as she prays in Besaid Temple. The world is seemingly acting out, with a second shoopuf appearing in the Moonflow and its energies overflowing and drawing more illusions into reality. (“Yuna: The Moonflow energy is responding to the will of the living. It’s as if… we’re in the Farplane.”) And it’s more vivid than what the Farplane is capable of, even breaking the rules of “beckoning”. This is something new, something worse. Something worse enough to bring back Sin (which I thought was just me extrapolating a potential, but they actually mention it in the audio drama that it happens). Yuna promises the people that she will defeat Sin, but Wakka tries to keep her from being made to promise such a thing at first, which is an interesting choice (“Wakka: Yuna, let’s go back to Besaid. They’ll push this all on you… Sin is for summoners, in their minds.”).

Where does the world go in this present circumstances? Why IS Yuna seemingly content to do what chafed her in the Eternal Calm short movie and stay praying in Besaid and helping the elders who are lost now that Yevon as they knew it is in shambles? Why are Lulu and Wakka enabling and protecting her in that? Why is Tidus looking injured and weak and why is Yuna keeping him at arm’s length? Why does she tell him that she’s fallen in love with someone else?

I know the typical story beat interpretation is “Yuna told him that and pushed him away so he wouldn’t be in danger for what she needs to do, bc defeating Sin caused his death last time”. But hear me out. Yuna knows Tidus isn’t alive. She knows that revealing that information to him will cause him to disappear again. She’s actively summoning him back to life and he has no idea (but he must suspect something is wrong, even before Yuna formally pulls away from him, he’s weakening and he probably doesn’t feel right in his own skin). I posit that her maintaining Tidus’s life is what she’s really doing praying in the Besaid Temple. She doesn’t want to get involved with the Moonflow situation, the shoopuf or the overflowing energy of the Moonflow itself. She doesn’t even really act when seeing all the ghosts in the crowd, and actively stops Kurgum from acting (plausible deniability: she and everyone else decide that sending them in that moment would be the wrong call and riots would break out, but that density of ghosts means that’s a significant amount of pyreflies that could become fiends at any moment).

I posit that Yuna’s powers are working, that people close to her think her powers aren’t working (Lulu and Wakka), and she’s hiding it from everyone else. That her powers aren’t working because she’s currently using them to maintain Tidus’s existence. And this maintaining is breaking the Farplane in half, because she’s powerful but has no idea what she’s doing. (Why would she really know what she’s doing or the consequences? Who has any information of what she’s doing and what will happen if she does it?) I posit that Yuna’s love for Tidus is so strong that it corrupts her sense of right and wrong. X-2 is Yuna largely going on a personal quest, and incidentally helping people but separating herself from the title of High Summoner and doing something she wants to do. Rikku encourages her to do something for herself for a change right before she agrees and runs off to become a sphere hunter. She still saves the world, this time from an ancient danger Old Yevon buried and an Unsent is threatening to use (for love, notably), but she did it in the course of looking for Tidus. Who the Fayth return to life, who she hugs and is so so relieved to have in her arms again.

She’s not going to let him go, she couldn’t let him die again so much that she called him back to life.

(side note: I never truly knew how this happened so I had to consult the wiki page on the novella, and I suspect what original information I was working with was misrepresented and misinterpreted. I openly admit that the wiki page doesn’t really help me fully understand what happened, aside from explaining how Tidus ended up in proximity to a bomb. My understanding from someone’s explanation was that an Unsent summoner on the island Yuna and Tidus got washed up on after a storm told her she could call back the dead if she wanted, as a summoner. They’re all made of pyreflies, Aeons and Fiends and People and Unsent alike, and summoners are in the business of manipulating pyreflies. Either calling them from the Fayth to form an Aeon, or Sending them to the Farplane so they do not become Fiends. A summoner with enough power could summon someone back from the dead, could they not? And this Unsent summoner knew how it worked, and told Yuna how to do it. But I don’t know how real that scene could be, or how accurate it is to what’s written in the book. It’s my rule of cool moment, though, and I worked with that as my understanding when I made this theory. We have to make our peace with that, if you’ll allow me this extrapolation of Spira’s rules and a summoner’s powers.)

(The meme is Tidus kicking a blitzball and it turned out it was a bomb and his head gets blown off, but wiki says they ended up on a vision of a Besaid from 1000 years ago, and the bomb was something neither Tidus or Yuna had seen before and to them it looked like a blitzball. So, Tidus approached what he thought was a blitzball, wondering who’s ball it was, and it exploded as he reached it. I still think that’s really dumb but I’m not editing it out bc Tidus’s death creates very interesting consequences.)

So, if Yuna is summoning Tidus back to life, and she desperately doesn’t want him to find this out so she avoids him and pushes him away through any means necessary, but he’s still weakening and fading enough to be noticeable by people… perhaps also himself… Yuna returning to Yevon in some capacity could just as likely be her looking for a means to keep feeding power to this summoning she’s doing so she doesn’t lose him. And what kind of consequences does it have to do this? He’s being summoned, but he’s not actually an Aeon. He’s not an Unsent, he’s not just being beckoned. He wasn’t even real, he was a dream in a summon held together by the raw power of Yu Yevon turning into Sin. The Moonflow overflowing and seeing a long-dead shoopuf is the least of the consequences. The Farplane is delicate, it requires careful maintenance, and here Yuna is shoving her foot in the door and holding it open for a solid year! And no one knows she’s doing this! Spira’s past is full of history, some of that long-buried secrets that no one was supposed to find again. Sin wasn’t supposed to be able to come back, but the ghosts aren’t staying ghosts anymore (“Lulu: I mean Sin came back, right? What’s to stop anything else from coming back?”).

Even people who only know her by reputation seem to think she’s acting strangely (“Kurgum: I thought Lady Yuna was… a righteous person.”), because something is wrong and no one can put their finger on what. Who would have the pieces to put any of this together, and who would even suspect Yuna in the first place? She’s actively not getting involved in politics, she’s locked herself in Besaid, she seems reluctant to answer someone she worked with and should be amicable with now (Baralai).

I think the story should follow down this path, I think it should find Yuna at the end of it, once savior and now destroyer. She’s willing to let the world rip apart in order to keep Tidus, and I think that’s a compelling premise for X-3. The past surging forward like ghosts, vengeful and lost and wanted and terrifying. Who sides with Yuna (Wakka, Lulu) and covers up the problem? Who bands together to face down the High Summoner (Tidus, Rikku)? Who doesn’t know where to place their allegiance, or who changes sides when they realize the extent of what Yuna’s hiding? What does she do when she’s faced with her friends, and the person she loves so much, telling her to stop?

There’s a line in Eternal Calm where Yaibal (named in X-2 but not in the movie itself), after asking about whether or not she’d be joining one of the factions, if she’d be making a faction of her own. And I think in this potential X-3, she’s making her own faction through the actions of becoming antagonist. She’s made Wakka cover for her, she acts in a way that make Lulu and Wakka both protect her regardless of whether or not they know what she’s doing. I think it would be so fascinating to make this a conscious decision on her part. Things have broken so utterly, and she’s desperate to hold them together, and becomes the antagonist in the process.

Squeenix would never do it, they’d never be so bold as to make Yuna the antagonist and follow through on this trajectory of her lying to people to hide that she’s the one breaking the world in half (up to returning the ghost of Sin itself to terrorize Spira). Sin isn’t the final boss in this one, it’d have to be Yuna, we have to stop her and fix what went wrong. It’s not ever gonna happen, but I still think Yuna should be the antagonist of X-3.