#i like it better this way tbh it looks less stale

[clanwarrior-tumbly]

Open requests yaaaaay!!

I feel like my request is too detailed, feel free to ignore it if it's hard for you to do so ♡

I would like to request something from tmc. As a reader who practices any sport (boxing or karate. Whatever is good.) and see the reaction of the 4 victims to this (Cesar, Mark, Adam and Jonah)

Something like, their reaction to watching their partner train or seeing how they practice it.

That would be all. Have a nice day <3

(I'm sorry if my english is really bad or something I said was misunderstood. I am using translator to write this. Really, my apologies.)

Oh no worries, your english is good! I'll do boxing for two of the fellas & karate for the other two

......

Cesar

You're at the top of your karate class, and he's proud of you fr.

Cheers you on at matches, tournaments, or even if you're just training at home in your personal dojo.

But at the same time, he gets worried whenever he sees you with a new and fresh bruise, being a very doting bf.

You just brush it off as something you did to yourself on accident.

Because you know he'll try to beat up whoever did that even tho he's nowhere near as strong as you.

His mom has plenty of medical supplies and ice packs at their home, so he always has them on-hand so you never run out.

Fortunately, you two have good reputations so neither of you have many enemies.

But if some jealous prick comes along (and they will when they see you hanging around Cesar) and harasses you two...you'll first ask them to politely leave.

If that fails or they get aggressive?

They'll leave with a black eye.

Prior to TVs being outlawed, Cesar watched Karate Kid and similar movies often to get a better understanding of your sport.

You admit to trying to learn a few moves from those films, but had yet to fully master them.

Mark

When he first learned you've practiced boxing on a daily basis, he's like "lord thank you for bringing someone who's not only sweet but also strong into my life,,,,love is real god bless-"

Tbh you don't think it's a big deal. You just like to punch things and win matches (and also protect those you loved, ofc).

Once you broke a bully's nose after they claimed you didn't "look" tough and tried to fight Mark.

He begged you to never do that again, but knows you can't make any promises.

Whenever you're training with your punching bag, he has to be careful not to accidentally sneak up on you..considering how quiet he usually is.

He's gotta make his presence known loud and clear if he wants your attention (lest he gets a broken nose, too).

After you chased an Alternate out of his house, he wonders what happened as he didn't hear any gunfire.

All you did was walk up to it and punch its jaw before jabbing it in the ribs, breaking its bones as it screamed in pain and shock, eventually running away.

Clearly, Alternates were at their strongest psychologically...not so much physically.

Your knuckles bled and bruised pretty badly, but Mark bandaged them and kissed them, thanking you nonstop for saving his life.

He murmurs prayers that your hands healed quickly, and you just smile, your love for this good man only growing.

Adam

You two are more or less polar opposites in terms of physique.

You're a boxer who has a (generally) good diet, and Adam's, well...a paranormal hunter who lives off of pizza and stale chips.

He's way out of shape and feels exhausted just from watching one of your matches alone, even if it's a video.

Eventually you suggest that he uses your punching bag to build up endurance (which he'll def need if he's running around chasing "ghosts").

However, it quickly becomes less of that and more of a release for his pent-up anger and frustrations.

Anything from a bad day at school to a rude comment calling his BPS footage "fake" will set him off; you'll hear him yelling and hitting the bag like no tomorrow.

He only stops when his knuckles bruise so badly he's in constant pain and you gotta bandage them, reminding him that he can't just wail on it nonstop without breaks.

He does admit to overdoing it, though, and lets you have it back.

Post-Catalyst, he retains some of the strength he's gained, but is deathly afraid of using the punching bag again.

His hands hurt the most when his bones broke for the first time, though as soon as he mentioned it, you bandaged them up despite it being pointless.

Tries his hardest to suppress his Alternate instincts, but he gives you full permission to beat him up if he did anything to hurt you.

Jonah

Was honestly a clueless mf before he realized you've been doing karate for years.

Apparently, he was convinced your black belt, Gi, tournament posters, and awards was just "sport merchandise".

But after all of that's clarified, he supports you 101 percent!

Tries attending the matches or tournaments you're in (luckily for you, he's willing to put those events above BPS missions), though half the time he's covering his eyes because he hates to see you get hurt.

He will, however, cheer the loudest should you win the round and brag about it to everyone he knows.

Lowkey wishes he can do all of those sick kicks and flips that you perform with ease, but remembers he'd probably pass out on the mat.

One time, he was stoned and insisted he could chop through the stack of wood you keep in your dojo, thinking it couldn't be that difficult.

Oh how wrong he was.

Next thing you knew, he's sobbing on the couch and you had to bandage his bruised hand, constantly reassuring him that his bones didn't shatter into a billion pieces.

It continued to be sore for the next several days, and you'd keep giving him that look of "I told you so" whenever he whined about it hurting.

[blockgamepirate]

I have so many thoughts about Purgatory and how it's being handled, but I'm also too tired to write a proper post

Here's a bunch of rambling instead:

idk like I think the thing they did successfully was reinvigorating the QSMP project (I think, idk what the actual numbers are tbh, I'm just going by vibes). It's a very dramatic event and it's constantly changing. No two days are the same as I said earlier. They also brought together people who hadn't interacted much before and gave everyone a break from the staleness of a seven month old server. And the mystery aspect keeps people engaged, even almost unwillingly so I think.

It's spectacle, it's hype

But....

I do think the way it was handled, even taking it for granted that this was all a good idea, as far as I can tell, the players were not warned in any way that they would be suddenly thrown into a completely new gamemode? Live on stream? A gamemode that's explained very poorly to them so most of them have no idea what's happening or how they're supposed to play it? That's harsh. It's no wonder a bunch of them didn't take it well! And some of them might have if they'd been given a bit more of a warning or had a better explanation! People are generally more open to new things if they're not just suddenly pushed into it.

They didn't sign up for this kind of pseudo-battle dome type of thing, they signed up for an SMP. Usually when SMPs do competitive events, the players are told ahead of time and are allowed to opt out. But with this? If you opt out, you're fucking over your team, because you already got assigned to one and if you're not logging on, your team has one less player.

Also the viewers too would probably have responded better with a bit more of an explanation. Like if you're showing up for a mystery thriller in the movie theatre, you'd be pretty pissed off if it turned out it was actually a sports tournament. And most would probably just leave the theatre. And then the people who heard that it was a sports tournament and came in going oh boy I sure do love me some sports, would be pretty pissed off when it turned out it was actually a mystery thriller masquerading as a sports tournament after all.

Okay maybe that analogy is a bit weird and exaggerated and unfair but like.... what even is this event actually?

And that's my next point: Like separating it from all the stuff I just said about needing to reinvigorate the server, what is the point of doing it like this? The players themselves don't seem sure what's expected of them, should they be roleplaying or should they just have fun competing and ignore the lore?

I get the impression that it was intended to be possible to play either way depending on the streamer, but the thing is that this makes both options frustrating. You can't fully roleplay because have to play along with the game and you can't just fully commit to the competition because it's so full of lore elements and badly designed from a competitive point of view (I mean look at Sunday's surprise elimination round when a bunch of greens were busy, which I feel is the most ridiculous example of this. But also Soulfire getting targetted by the kill quests for seemingly no reason. And then there's the cursed team aspect: what the hell are you even supposed to do with that as a competitive player? So much of it is so stupid. But it's also not balanced in a way that would be fun for casual play either.)

Not to mention the fact that when you have people who want to roleplay and people who don't, there's absolutely going to be clashes, and you also end up blurring the line between roleplay and reality. And of course the audience will be confused and won't get it, either way.

Okay, a very simple example that I think was already dropped: Etoiles attacking Phil and Phil taking it as Lore while Etoiles was just having fun playing video games. I think they basically just resolved it by Phil letting it go (which is the correct take IMO), but you can see why this kind of thing is a problem, right? Because if the person who wants to roleplay interprets it as roleplay, they're effectively godmodding the other person's character, which is bad rp etiquette. But then if they can't interpret it as roleplay it means they basically just can't actually roleplay.

You can't have some characters roleplaying and others not, at least not unless you've made that clear between the players and also to the audience.

Also I just have to point out that even though QSMP doesn't have an activity requirement, I do feel like they have a bad habit of creating events that effectively create psychological and social pressure to log on and play along with whatever they throw at you. This was a problem with the egg event; suddenly you have a Minecraft baby that you have to take care of every day with another person you've probably only known for like two weeks (if you get a partner at all) OR THE BABY DIES AND THE FANDOM WILL HATE YOU.

And this is kinda similar; you don't have to log on but you're letting your team down if you don't!

Except this time the fandom will also probably hate you if you do.

idk. I think it's a mess that could have been (somewhat) avoided by just not being so obsessed with mystery and surprises and letting at least the streamers know ahead of time what they were getting into and letting them choose whether they wanted to play at all in the first place or not, and also actually setting up some guidelines for figuring out what was roleplay and what wasn't.

And maybe putting together some kind of a trailer for the viewers so they'll have even a rough idea of what the concept is and would be a bit more prepared for it. (They could just say the trailer is non-canon, it's fine)

The streamers can still act surprised in character, you can just tell them to not let the audience know exactly what's coming and to pretend like they don't know anything. I mean there could still be surprises like the teams and the exact mechanics of the game and the specifics of the lore. I just think the players should know something about what they're getting into. It's just common courtesy.

(But also the event itself could have been better designed)

And maybe you can set up something where only the streamers who signed up for the event actually end up on Egg Island, and the others conveniently were all in a car that got detached from the train on the way so now they've ended up somewhere different and maybe they just have like a low-maintenance temporary server to play on casually if they want to, maybe with some subtle lore elements that they can discover. You could do something weird with that too, like maybe the car got derailed into an ocean and they end up in a waterworld sort of place and have to figure out how to play in that kind of environment for two weeks; challenging but chill. (idk it's a random idea but something like that could be fun for a very limited time, and imagine the memes.)

Anyway, obligatory end note: I do genuinely respect the work the admin team put into this project. It's a lot, it's very ambitious, and it often pays off. They're also very good about responding to feedback which is great. I just think that they do make a lot of frustrating mistakes, or what I would consider mistakes. (There are other things I could complain about but that's another post)

Also I do think Purgatory would have worked better if it had happened earlier in the egg disappearance arc, but I fully understands why it took so long. There isn't much you can do about scheduling issues. Can't criticise the admins for that.

[thedreadvampy]

Watched the new season of Black Mirror and like. I'm pretty meh on Black Mirror generally, I think it's overall good but not great

less cause it's wanky or fire-bad-Thomas-Edison-witch (I don't think it is either of those things and I think short film is the right format for speculative fiction and works really well, plus I'm always a slut for speculative fiction or horror anthologies) and more cause it's often a bit obvious and also I find the self conscious universe building a bit cringe (short stories can be standalone short stories! overarching narratives or crossovers are not necessary!)

but I gotta say off the back of the new series I really think the further away it gets from sci-fi the more I like it. mazey day was ok with a solid twist, loch henry was really effective and I truly found demon 79 really delightful (although that's like 90% cause I just think Anjana Vasan is such a great presence, loved her in We Are Lady Parts too).

whereas the most sci-fi one, the astronaut one, felt kind of stale and unfinished to me, like I knew from about 10 minutes in where every beat of the story was going, and it kept feeling like it wanted to say something about trad families or about fridging women or about trauma or about like. anything. but nah it was just exactly what it looked like, it was a mid 60s-style sci-fi/horror. it read like a Dick story and there clearly was some satirical intent there in the idea that both men were misogynistic and abusive in similarly veiled ways, but like. didn't go anywhere did it? still ended up fridging the women and framing the men as victims of their own brutality and if your story beat for beat could have been written 60 years ago, it's not exactly effective modern satire, is it?

the opener for the season was fine. fun. very classic-mode Black Mirror. I liked what it was doing but it was another one which felt slightly undercooked, like it had a lot of good ingredients but a lot of the episode was just treading water. it was a fun caper if a little cringe at times.

but yeah the non-scifi episodes worked a lot better for me. Demon 79 feels very Asimov but, unlike Beyond The Sea, it didn't feel outdated - it's got a really nice central conceit, engaging characters and it's constructed really well for me, plus the performances and aesthetics were strong. Mazey Day was simple but effective, really clear about its intents and again with some really engaging, fun performances. Loch Henry was just a good tight thriller with again some clear ideas to convey which I thought were on the nose but not obnoxious.

I think that there are some really strong Black Mirror episodes - 15 Million Merits, White Bear, Men Against Fire, Hang The DJ - and the common thread for the ones that work for me is that they have a really tight central concept and a strong idea of what the question they want to ask is. and tbh I think this is the strongest season because only one episode was actively cringe for me and there were 3 really tight ones. To me where the show consistently falls down is that it gets too invested in the Black Mirror Expanded Universe and the idea of what the show is 'meant' to be. Almost all the weakest episodes start with an on-the-nose piece of technology and end with 'hey if that happened would that be fucked up or what?'

I reckon that this season Brooker's been quite actively trying to get off the hook of 'Black Mirror Is About Phone Scary' and it's by a long way an improvement cause freed of the need to in any way shoehorn in a central technology the show's got solid space to find new core concepts and new ideas instead of 'what if there's a 15th fucked up thing you could do with memory recordings or perfect AI personality clones?'

like black mirror's always mostly been interested in a few core themes - voyeurism and panoptica, paranoia, self-perfection and performance, and what it takes to push people towards violence and when that's justified. a lot of the time the devotion to telling that through a really specific near-future sci-fi lens has been a bit of a millstone around its neck. this works better.

[darthmaclunkey]

I meant to write down my thoughts about this film like 3 weeks ago but kept forgetting lol. anyway spoilers for the film below the cut

I'm so glad I went to see this. I was interested in the concept, but tbh I was mostly going to see it because I like Daisy Ridley, and I was looking forward to seeing her in a new role. my partner tagged along with me because he'll see anything, but wasn't super keen. and we both loved it. it's so lowkey, understated, and so beautifully observed. it's also much funnier than I think the marketing makes it out to be - our screening wasn't too busy (3pm on a sunny saturday), but there were a lot of laughs. tears, too; my partner was pretty much sobbing at the end.

more than anything, I think it's one of the most relatable films I've seen. once upon a time I was a numb, depressed & antisocial woman working in a dull office actively fantasising about death, but not actively suicidal. sometimes i think about dying really nailed that limbo - where you're thinking about being dead, thinking about being an artfully-arranged corpse (a pretty corpse; a tragic corpse) in a remote forest or hanging from a crane, but not actually thinking about the method of dying. not really wanting to die, because, functionally, you're already dead. you're quiet, you're unsettling, you're not sociable, people don't notice you. they stopped noticing you a while ago. when you do step out of your comfort zone, you're always thinking: what happens when they see the real me? what happens when they find out who I really am? and instead of sometimes i think about dying becoming a cutesy boy-gets-girl-out-of-her-shell story, as a lesser film could be, we see how Fran does fuck it up, and ultimately hurts the one person who has seen her - and yet he still chooses to extend empathy and kindness to her.

Daisy Ridley really nailed the character of Fran, her performance full of subtle little facial expressions and stiff, considered movements. the most relaxed we see her is in the back half of the film when she spends her whole sunday rotting on her sitting room carpet, only moving to turn onto her side, or to get the beam of sunlight out of her eyes as it tracks across the floor - and then it's monday, and she gets up and ready for work, stiff and curled in on herself again. then we have the beautiful scene where she bumps into her old coworker at the cafe, and we see her perched on the edge of her seat, frowning, bag clutched to her chest, unable to reach out and comfort the woman she's known for years but never really known.

Dave Meherje was great, too, as Robert, Fran's new coworker, someone very sure of himself but also someone with a lot of grace, kindness, and patience. I was reminded - and my partner was too - about my own relationship, although in a less extreme way than we see in the film. I saw much of myself - melancholic, moderately antisocial, physically withdrawn - in Fran, just as my partner did, and I saw him - generous, empathetic, patient, someone who can talk to anyone - in Robert. thankfully our relationship (seven years strong) works out a bit better than Fran and Robert in the film, but I was reminded of the sweetness of finding someone who sees you and accepts you for who you are, someone with the depth of spirit to show you empathy and understanding. the final scene, where Fran confesses (and pretty much says the title of the film) her inner thoughts to Robert, and he just embraces her, and the camera pans out to show the office around them full of greenery from the forest where she so often dreams about her own dead body - I found that so moving, so beautiful. not a happy ending, but not a sad one; an understanding one. an empathetic one.

it's also a deeply funny film, something I didn't expect from the trailer and promo. Rachel Lambert & the cast really nail that experience of working in an office, being stuck in a stale, beige room with a group of people you'd never choose to spend time with otherwise day in, day out, on repeat. every character felt like the protagonist of their own film. I know I've worked with every character in that office. the inane banter and weird rituals of the office are so well observed, from the stilted, formal joking over microsoft teams to the icebreaker questions in the all-hands meeting. the scene where Fran has to play the murder victim at the party is also hilarious - her awkward, uncomfortable death pose in the bath, the way her voice croaks and pauses as she comes up with her story ("acid....in my stomach?") and the way the other guests stand and watch in dumfounded silence for a moment before laughing and applauding, having seen, for a second, something that clearly unsettled them; a glimpse of the darkness inside the quiet, mousy girl who never talks.

it also looks gorgeous - the PNW scenery is a whole character in its own right. every shot, even the office interiors, is carefully framed and composed.

my main takeaway, walking home from the cinema, was catharsis. I remembered what it was like being 20, working an admin job in an office where I typed up reports from cassette tapes that other colleagues had dictated, feeling nothing, fantasising about being hit by a car on my walk home. (I am better now, I cannot stress that enough). I felt seen and understood. it's hard to be human. it's hard to be someone like Fran, but it's even harder to be someone like Robert:

It's so easy to laugh, it's so easy to hate It takes strength to be gentle and kind

tl;dr great film. watch it.

[animality--opera]

Hey, there. I'm a writer who's been looking up to you for a while, and I wanted to ask you for advice. I barely do any writing anymore compared to many years ago, I feel so much more unconfident now. Due to depression, anxiety, you name it. How do you get the confidence to write so much? What do you do when you're not feeling confident? What do you do to get in-character for roleplaying? What are some habits you had to build to consider dialogue and tapping into your characters feelings? Sorry for all the questions, hope you're well! <3

HI ANON THIS IS SO SWEET WHAT THE HECK

most of my answer is Read More'd since this inevitably got so long lmao

honestly all the writing I do comes less from a place of confidence and more from utter compulsion fdskjlgh

CONFIDENCE :

I certainly have read and experienced much better writing than my own and it makes me feel like my own writing is quite mediocre tbh! but it also inspires my writing. reading something that blows me out of the water can be a huge inspo to my word choice, sentence structure, the way I frame stories/descriptions/characters, or even what I want to write about in the first place.

I try to draw from fresh inspo like that if I'm starting to feel like my writing is too stale. sometimes that just means rereading something I already know I like, if I'm craving it! it's just refreshing to get away from my own writing now and then.

but I really don't write for anyone but myself!! it's why I do so much rp instead of fanfic or drabbles. when I rp, I'm really not thinking about crafting something beautiful for my rp partner to read, I'm just having fun exploring a story and exploring how characters respond to that story & to each other.

and that's where the compulsion comes in lmao;; this shit ain't gonna write itself and if I wanna see what happens, I gotta make it happen!! if I'm really into a plot I'm writing with somebody, it feels like binging a really good series on Netflix. next episode next episode next episode = reply reply reply LOL

GETTING IN CHARACTER :

as for character inspo and nailing down dialogue & characterization... I only write characters I'm both interested in and have a really strong sense for, if that makes sense. that way their "voice", the real heart of how this character perceives and reacts to the world, comes fairly naturally to me and it doesn't feel like work to write them. but I still sometimes have to sit and think about how exactly they would word something or feel about something, especially if it's something complex.

for me at least, I tend to get in my own head when developing the dialogue or how a character's going to feel/respond. I have to imagine them saying what I'm writing, to make sure it fits them, that it's coming from them and not just me. I have to mentally put myself in their shoes and kinda feel out a sample of what they're feeling.

sometimes it helps me to picture the scene in my head and picture how the character might look as they respond. of course if I'm writing a canon character, it helps to think back on word choice I know they've used before, or how they've responded to other situations before, and kinda get a gist from there.

YOUR MILEAGE MAY VARY :

all of this could obviously vary from person to person; everyone's thoughts & imaginations work differently and certain kinds of inspo might be more helpful to one person than another!

but I hope my huge rambling might've given you something to go off, anon!! I'd love for you to have fun writing again!! I know how it is when stress and anxiety drain the fun out of something you love. I hope you can find that joy again. <3

[bleep-bloop-boo]

media over exaggerates everything, dw, its not that bad <33 honestly? what i do is find people who are sitting alone or i like the vibes of (funky jewelry and pride stuff tbh) and talk to them. Compliments are a great way to start convos! and esp during the first week to month of school people are rlly open to making new friends! and then there are stages of friendship basically, once you talk with em, you wave to them in hallways/passing period (speaking of which, go before school starts to figure out ur classrooms, being late is kinda akward but not too bad) and then you follow them on insta/snap and then maybe phone numbers or social or meeting up outside of school Group projects! great way to meet people! And hoenstly? ppl do not care. as someone who is lowkey terrified of being percieved, people have better things to worry about. all you really need to do is focus on your grades <33 (tho, im not sure if grades are priorities at other schools, at my school the average GPA is a 4.0+ and nearly everyone in my grade is 2-3 grades above theirs in math :pp prolly just cuz i live in a fully asian/indian community in one of the most competitive areas)

And the mental health thing? Can be true sometimes, but there is a lot of good in it :)) - Lunches with friends!!! (kinda rare for me cuz we all have clubs, which is another great way to make friends btw!) - Work periods where you just goof off! - Going off campus >>> - 'trauma' bonding over bad teachers - Study sessions in the library were you get kicked out for giggling too loud :pp - Classes with creative projects :DD (i got to learn all about psychopaths) - classes with chaotic kidss ( i helped a guy stuff his chest with squishmellows to make fake boobs and then me and 4 other kids ties my corset around him for our final project) - STALE CANDY/STICKERS TEACHERS GIVE - KAHOOTS AND JUST GAME DAYS - MOVIE DAYSS >>> - and personally going from a middle school with a graduating class of less than 100, meeting so many people who are weird, and have interesting hobbies/fandoms! i saw ppl wearing fandom merch and would freak out, cuz OMG THATS SO COOL. and people have such unique and weird senses of style im obsessed with <33 and i also met other queer people?? which was SO cool <33 public school is a bit disgusting and unsanitary and mildly concerning BUTTT its chaotic, funny and leads to tons of cool stories/friends and uhhhh i think thats it?? the only thing which i personally dont like is that highschoolers are so over everything that they put in so little effort, which like is totally fine but makes you weird if you're too passionate or 'try too hard' which is prolly just a me problem as i get easily excited and kinda.... go overboard as you can see AND MAIN TIP! find your people, stay away from ppl who others say do drugs/smoke or are in gangs (unfortunatly, this isnt a disney channel show where ppl's looks dont allign with their actions, and i learned that the semi-hard way?? idk i made cool friends, just cant hang out with em if i want a future :pp ) and once you make some friends, you're set uhhhh, i kinda rambled here- feel free to send me an ask or dm if u have more questions!! :DD '

fuck. one summer left.

[tokyoghoulcrackconfessions]

Ayato is still in his Emo phase he shops at hot topic and screams nya when he's angry

[bangtae-sohotddaeng]

nugatory | p.jm. | drabble

pairing: jimin x reader (ft. taehyung)

rating: m (18+)

genre: smut | angst | college!au

summary: Park Jimin is many things. Park Jimin is a responsible, smart, handsome and musically talented Taekwondo black belt. Park Jimin is Kim Taehyung's best friend. Park Jimin is a good friend. Park Jimin is a compulsive matchmaker. Park Jimin is many things – but he is not the guy you should be sitting in a car with, right now.

warnings: swearing + sexual situations (nudity, semi-public sexual acts in a car, fingering, penetrative sex) + possible allusions to some infidelity if you squint?

word count: 3.2 k

note: y’all. i couldn’t let butter!jimin keep ruining my life without acting out a bit, could i? this one started off as a pwp, but then i ended up combining it with a plot i had in my head for a while, and this turned into more plot and less porn, but. i’m okay with that, tbh. also! i’ve used one my older styles of writing (going back to 2016-ish) with this one. hope you all like it~ 🥺💜

— masterlist

— feedback is always appreciated!

Park Jimin is many things.

He is an astoundingly handsome, cheerful – and yet somehow mysterious – psychology major that you shared Freshman year's communications class with. He is the only rich kid among the majority on campus that doesn't flaunt his wealth to scholarship kids like you. He is kind, helpful, generous – did you mention handsome? – perfectly athletic and perfectly aesthetic.

Park Jimin is a responsible, smart, handsome and musically talented Taekwondo black belt.

He is also someone that gets excited at the prospect of claw machines at fairs. He is also someone that looks at the universe with galaxies in his eyes. He is also someone that doesn’t realize he will always be more exquisite than any art his best friend might ever create.

Park Jimin is Kim Taehyung's best friend.

He is the guy that stood next to Kim Taehyung when Taehyung asked you to the Freshman dance. He is the guy that told you Kim Taehyung has the most gigantic crush on you. He is the guy that set you up on the first of your many dates with Kim Taehyung.

Park Jimin is a good friend.

Park Jimin is a compulsive matchmaker.

Park Jimin is many things – but he is not the guy you should be sitting in a car with, right now.

"You really don't have to worry about me, Jimin," you mumble, eyes flickering all over his face – you always tend to drink him up the best you can, whenever you can. “I know I stupidly called you here, but I was just in shock. I’m okay, now. I’ll be fine.”

"No, I do have to worry." His fingers thread through his hair, your eyes hopelessly follow. "This was stupid and reckless of Tae. I'm sure he'll come back to his senses soon."

You blink. Jimin really has absolutely no grasp of this situation. But he obviously thinks he knows everything, which is making this conversation progressively difficult.

(His muscles bulging beneath his jeans and the t-shirt he wears are a contributing factor in making this conversation difficult, too, you won't lie.)

You breathe out, partly to collect your thoughts, and partly because you've been inhaling too much of his heady cologne and it’s making you think about—

Things. 

It's making you think about things. That you should have no business thinking about. Because you and his best friend have been going on dates. The same best friend who is currently, as you speak, on a date with someone else. Alluding to the reason why you have called up Park Jimin to see you in a confused panic, after ten, at night, at your place.

"Taehyung – he, um. He didn't see us going anywhere. We'd been on nine dates, but… He said he didn't think I was actually as into him as he is into me. He didn't want to go on like that." 

Jimin’s lips part. His brows hike up. You shrug, forcing your gaze away from the gloss on his lips.

“It’s been that way for a while. We were barely even texting. I think he has concluded that I don’t like him like that.”

Jimin rests his forearm on the steering wheel, almost leaning over the center console to catch your gaze. "Do you?"

His eyes pull you in like always and you're lost, just staring into their depths, as your mind ceases to think up thoughts that don't involve you and him naked and tangled up with each other in—

"Sweetheart?"

Your intake of breath is sharp, short and cold. Your insides are just as warm, turning everything in your head into incomprehensible mush. "Y–y–yeah?"

"Are you into Taehyung the way he is into you?" he whispers, and you follow the shape of his lips as they move. “Because you must know, he’s liked for a whole semester.”

You lick your lips, mindlessly nod, and then reach out with a finger to trace his cupid's bow. He doesn't pull away, he doesn't even flinch. "What do you think?"

His warm breath washes over your fingertip as you press it against his lower lip. His body jolts when your nail rims the plush cushion. "I… think he's my bestest friend in the world and he's basically in love with you…"

You shake your head, and your other hand travels past the console to grip his thigh. Your nails dig in. His breath catches. "He's on a date with someone else, as we're speaking."

"I just—he was so into you, I thought you'd be good for each other." 

Past the cloud of, well, something incomprehensible, there is disappointment in Jimin's gaze. And that is how you know he means it. You shouldn't be surprised, really, because Park Jimin always means everything he does, he doesn't have a single conniving bone in his body, but you still are. Part of you has hoped against hope that he set you up with Taehyung to get closer to you, himself. Which – sounds like a really flawed plan and doesn't really make much sense, now that you think about it.

But you still hoped.

Now—

Now, though. Now you know otherwise.

"How can I be good for someone else when I have never even been good for me?" you don't know why you confessed to that, but the words just tumble out of you and you let them. "I'm a mess, Jimin," you whisper, accentuating your point by massaging his lower lip by your index finger. "I destroy people, and I nearly destroy myself in the process. I am an emotional and psychological train wreck. He's better off without me. Anybody would be better off without me."

Jimin grips your hand on his thigh with his own. “Not anybody,” he murmurs, and through his furrowed brows and muddled eyes, you catch an emotion you have been well acquainted with for years, now.

Longing.

Your heartbeat picks up as Jimin massages small circles on the back of your hand. You remove your other hand from his face.

“Yes, Jimin, anybody,” you say with conviction, even as you desperately hope for him to offer himself up as an alternative. “Everything is a wreck inside of my head. I can’t do relationships, I can’t even date someone without messing up.”

His pupils expand and his tongue flicks at his lower lip. His hand tightens in a grip on your other hand. His gorgeously bleached hair curl over the side of his head. "You don’t have to date, then.”

You scoff. “Taehyung would never go for—”

“I’m not talking about Taehyung,” Jimin’s voice comes out three octaves lower. “And you’re not talking about just anybody.”

You nearly stop breathing as he brings his free hand to your face, pushes a tendril of your hair behind your ear and traces a knuckle down the side of your face, your jaw, to hold your chin.

“You say you’re not good for you. Can you try to be good for me, then?" He pulls your face closer to his. “Would you let me save you from destroying yourself? Let me try to take care of the wreckage, hmm?”

Your body spasms when he reaches for the hand you’d retracted, pecks your finger before pulling it into his mouth. His tongue swirls, his teeth scrape and his eyes roll back as he sucks. He lets go with a pop. 

Boy, would you let him take care of whatever he wants.

"Can you, sweetheart? Can you be good for me?" He sounds like he’s at the brink of something, just teetering on the edge, waiting for you to flick a finger before he free-falls.

Well. You’ve been teetering for years now.

"I want to be.” You don’t sound like yourself when you speak.

And you don't sound like yourself when he pulls you on top of him. You don’t sound like yourself when your back hits the wheel, your thighs cage his, your hands instinctively twirl in his hair, and –

Your core presses up against his length. 

He's hard and straining against his tighter than sin jeans. You claw at his t-shirt. He takes it off in a swift, smooth motion — agile and rhythmic in everything he does.

You don’t feel like yourself when your eyes feast him. Because how could you ever get this lucky? How could you ever get to feel Park Jimin’s shirtless self beneath you? You had long since succumbed to your destiny of perishing in pining.

And yet, here you are.

You lean back to marvel at his toned, chiseled angles, you let your fingers smooth over every groove and crevice and line of sinew muscle you can reach. You trace his tight abdomen, nails scraping at the last of his eight-pack before veering towards his toned v-line. You shiver at the dark promises it leads to, looking up to meet his eye. And you shiver more when his feral gaze catches you.

Then he pulls you into a kiss and you're lost.

He tastes like stale coffee and breath mints and bad decisions –

He tastes delicious.

His tongue plunders your mouth, teeth bite into your lips—he pulls, pushes, drinks up, feasts. You throw your all into the kiss, meeting him in the middle with your tongue swirling with his, teeth latching on to suck at it. He groans into your mouth – all loud, and guttural and manly. And then he stops. Pulls away.

His wholly black eyes dig into yours. His lips are wet, swollen and bitten. You did that.

"You have to at least talk to him—"

"I have another important business to tend to, currently."

You grind against him and make your point. He bites down on his lip. His arms snake around your waist to cage you against him, he pulls you down on him. 

You don't recognize yourself when you moan.

Your shirt is off, your shorts are pulled down and your panties are pushed to a side—

"You can never tell him." Park Jimin glides two fingers over your wetness, making a bigger mess of you. "Never."

You don't intend to, because what you do with Park Jimin in your apartment's parking lot at eleven pm on a Saturday night is nobody's business but yours. 

His fingers part your entrance and slide in you abruptly, and you see stars. Your head tilts back on a long, drawn out moan, Jimin’s fingers picking up pace inside you. You rock on his hand, you claw at his arm, you desperately latch onto his shoulders and rest your forehead against his to ground yourself. He watches you with his half shuttered eyes threatening to eat you up whole. 

His lips press into yours, tongue swiping through your mouth, curling up behind your teeth – it's messy, it's sloppy, it's the most arousing kiss of your life.

His lips drag down the column of your neck, tongue licking at the sweat droplets quickly gathering above your collarbones, his fingers curl inside you, his teeth latch onto your shoulder.

You explode under his thumb's press against your clit and sob into his neck when he drags its nail over the sensitive bud. “Jimin, Jimin, too much~ ah!”

He presses some buttons in his fancy car and his seat inclines. He pulls you to the backseat with him. “You okay?” he breathes on your face, hovering inches above you.

“Never been better,” you truthfully breathe back, heart coiling in your chest at the radiant grin he rewards you with in response.

A blast of hot air hits your forehead, your thighs and your shins. You jump, realizing he has turned some sort of hot air blower on. “For privacy,” he says, gesturing to the rapidly fogging windows, and then flicks a switch to make the air stop.

You both gaze at each other. Your eyes flicker all over his face to save every last bit of it to memory. You self-consciously swallow when you see him do the same. “Jimin…”

He leans down to sponge a kiss to your sternum, and then your hips buck into his as his tongue licks a path on the wells of your breasts peeking above your bra. A breathless moan leaves you when he scrapes his teeth over your cloth covered nipple.

You both pause for a moment, wide eyes locking in surprise.

And then you’re ravenous.

He strips you bare when you tug at his belt, and you rush to return the favor. You struggle with getting his boxers past his plump ass as he grips onto your flesh, peppering bites down your hips, squeezes your boobs, licks at your nipples—

You grip him, warm and heavy, and glide your thumb over the leaking tip. His head falls into your nape, fingers digging into the flesh of your ass. “Jimin, ple~ase,” you moan.

He plucks out a golden foil from his wallet, meeting your eyes as he tears the packet and rolls the condom onto himself. 

Your hands are pinned next to your head in a flash, his tongue teases your pulse point, teeth toy with your earlobe, and you writhe in want under him, eyes watering at the sweet torture.

And then he fills you up with a single thrust.

You freeze on a gasp.

His hair hangs over his eyes, irises lost to the lust storming in his pupils, his mouth gapes open, his chest is heaving.

“You good?” His voice is deeper than the ocean.

You've never been more turned on in your life.

He hisses at your frantic nod. “Words.”

“Yes. Yes, oh my God, Jimin, move—”

He thrusts into you at an unforgiving pace. Your whole world literally tilts off its axis as he meets that spot inside of you, and your body wrings beneath him, twisting up to hold onto some buoy to ground you, but he is unrelenting even as you grip at his neck — his teeth encase his lower lip, brows furrow and eyelids flutter as he drives deep into you.

You groan at the sight, moving your hips to meet him. You rock with him, never catching your breath, and your nails just dig dig dig into his meaty back, drawing patterns all over the smooth, delicious surface.

Your release closes in on you, and you chase it with your mouth clamping onto Jimin’s neck, your eyes screwed shut as you groan into his skin, until—

He draws back, standing on his knees above you like goddamn Adonis in this goddamn huge SUV of his, and the sight of sweat droplets trailing down his neck, framing his pecs and racing down his tight abs has your whine of protest dying in your throat as you gawk. His lips are parted as he breathes, a couple of sweat soaked hair strands sticking to his brow, and his eyes — 

Oh God, his eyes have an animalistic gleam in them as he hooks his arms beneath your knees, and drags your hips to him.

You cry out when he enters you at this angle, every thrust pushing at what feels like your cervix, and the pleasure is so blinding it's almost painful. One of his hands maneuvers to your center, a finger rubbing at your clit, and you yelp out a distorted version of his name, completely unwarned when waves over waves of hot, sweet, toe curling climax crash into you.

Jimin chases you into completion, his broken moan of your name filtering to you through the post-orgasmic buzzing in your head. His lips connect with yours as he relaxes your legs. You both pant into each other's mouth after two, lethargic, sticky kisses.

Your sweaty bodies make a disgusting sound when you detach, and both of you scowl together, laughing when you catch each other’s expressions. You sit up on jelly legs, barely able to sit on your ass when your sensitive center protests. 

You both dress up in silence, although you don’t feel it to be awkward in the least.

You’re still mulling over how to frame in words what you have felt for him for nearly three years, how to tell him and even what to tell him when you’re such a relationship-phobe, when Jimin releases a long sigh.

You look up in surprise. That was not a contented sound. It was one of… was it defeat?

Jimin looks at you with a serious face.

Your heart plummets.

One of the many things that make up Park Jimin is also his brutal morality. And right now, you can see it in his face that he thinks he’s done something wrong. Your shoulders hunch up in subconscious defense — you will not say a word, you decide.

“Taehyung is my best friend in this entire world,” he begins, stomping firmly on any remaining embers of hope left in your chest. “He can never, ever, ever know this happened, okay?”

You give a numb nod.

“I’m sure he’ll come back around and try to talk to you again. If that happens, don’t feel like you owe me anything, okay?”

You look up to find Jimin’s eyes searching your face. He looks so soft and grave and sad, that it hurts to look at him. You look down and nod again.

“I — I feel like you two will happen, you know, when the time is finally right.” His words sound stiff. Practiced, even. “Don’t let this come in the way of that.”

Even though you decided you wouldn’t say anything, your mouth is nearly bubbling with too much to say, at this point. You take a deep breath. “And what if he doesn’t come back. What then, Jimin?”

Jimin looks at you with wide, clueless eyes. “He…will. At some point.”

“And what about until he comes back? Am I expected to wait around?”

Something crumples in his expressions. “No, of course not. You can do whatever you want. Even after he comes back, you don’t owe anybody anything.”

“Whatever I want, you say?” you ask him quietly, your heart thudding in your throat.

Jimin swallows, obviously catching on. “I mean…I guess?”

“You guess?”

He licks his lips and his gaze zeroes in on yours. “Whatever you want, yes. Certainly.”

“Great.” You take his acquiescence for what it is, and grab his wrist. “Okay, then. Until he comes back, right?”

Jimin nods, haltingly, gaze switching between your hand and your eyes. “Right.”

You feign a smile you don’t actually feel because something about this doesn’t sit right with you. This boy, you realize, deserves a lot more than being someone’s dirty little secret. He is Park Jimin, after all, a guy that is so many things that you could never run out of listing them and— 

Park Jimin is a gorgeous celestial metaphor in himself.

Because he may look at the universe with galaxies in his eyes, but he is your only galaxy, and all your stars shine at you through him when he smiles. 

Park Jimin is many things — but he is not the guy you want to just casually fuck.

But your pathetic self would take anything he would allow.

And so you pull his hand and stumble out of his SUV, sharing shy glances with him as you pull him with you up the stairs, all the way to your dorms.

Park Jimin is many things—

To you.

nugatory (adj.) – worth nothing or of little value.

[ihatebnha]

why do i feel like bakugous got those weird sweaty palms thats really gross to hold hands with because of his quirk??

bc he does. you feel that way because he does. 

you cannot look at me and tell me bakugo isnt one of the sweatiest people on the planet. not only is his quirk sweat related, but it allows him to create literal explosions (which are hot) and is constantly training to get better at it (which is EXERCISE)..... if anything, his hands are the absolutely worst of it... 

contrary to popular belief, this is also why i dont think he smells like burnt sugar... i just know he smells like bbq sauce and chicken fingers because he’s nothing but a handsome lil grease fire🥰🥵

tbh tho this is actually probably a good thing because it means he most like can’t smell your BO b/c he’s just constantly smelling himself, and if your hand is sweaty you can just blame it on him and he really won’t know any better. 

lol i wasnt even gonna write anything for this but then i did and went overboard bye... also sorry if it’s a lil ooc (baku is supposed to be older tho)...... i got halfway through writing before realizing i hated the ideas LOL

enjoy!

-

It took you a long time to get used to Bakugo’s natural… musk. 

Granted, he’s always been someone who takes pretty good care of his health, so it’s not as if you ever had to wait long for him to wash his hands or take a shower, but still, over the course your relationship, you have smelled, whenever you hold his hand or it’s been your turn to do the laundry, and touched, some pretty moist and stinky things. 

Not to mention how he usually comes home smelling of sickly-sweet, stale wine and restaurant grease, much less.

It was funny at first, before you told the public about your relationship and got better at the whole PDA-thing, rather than find yourself scared of Bakugo’s amazing ability to create explosions with his hands, you somehow decided it would make much more sense to avoid his hands for being sweaty. 

Back at first, his sweatiness was a lot more noticeable, but now that you’ve been together a while, you find that you honestly don’t notice, and that you’re rather grateful for all the blessings it bestows upon you. 

-

It had been a long day. 

Unable to escape the warmth of Bakugo’s arms this morning, you found yourself late to work, spilling coffee all over the white of your blouse as you ran to catch the subway. To make matters worse, you also ended up forgetting your lunch, and ended up opting to buy take-out instead. Finally, on your way home, you hadn’t realized that the chilly wind of the morning had long since blown by, causing you to sweat a hole right through your jacket. 

You smelled. 

Kicking off your pumps at the door, you sigh, beginning to unbutton your top so as to hop in the shower as soon as possible.  

However, Bakugo is too much of a hero to notice your sneaking, interrupting your journey by meeting you in the hallway. 

“Hey, baby,” he calls, hands stuffed into his pockets as he pokes his head out from the kitchen as he watches as you walk by him with a sign. 

“I’m going to take-” you start to greet, but he’s fast, catching your arm before you can finish the sentence and breeze by him into the bathroom. 

“Where you going, pretty?” He smirks, tugging you into his side so he can press his nose into your hair and drag you toward the kitchen. 

Before he gets far, though, he pauses, body frozen as he starts to glance around. 

“Do you smell that?” He asks, ignorantly, turning away from your body to look for the possible source. 

It’s doesn’t really take a genius to know that it’s you, especially after the day you’ve just had, but you try to play dumb, anyway.

“Smell what?” You say, taking a step back from his arms, a hand still in entwined with his as you begin to act like you’re looking, too. 

“Smells like,” he sniffs around, “food?” 

“Sweetie,” you say, voice light with feigned confusion. “Are you sure it’s not just you?” 

Bakugo makes a face, mouth halfway open and ready to tear into you, but instead takes a pause, unhooking his hand from yours to pull back and lift up an arm to smell. 

Eyes widening, he glances back up at you, searching your eyes for any hesitance on your part, and, when he sees none, frowns. 

Bingo. 

“Since you haven’t started cooking yet,” you ask, a smile now teasing your lips, especially since you know you’ve most likely gotten away with it, “How about we take a shower?” 

Bakugo grins, grabbing your hand again. 

Safe to say, you both get one hell of a scrubbing. 

-

Pulling up the skyscraper of an agency, it doesn’t take long before Bakugo is bursting through the doors and jogging to your car, eyes dark with an angry expression on his face to match as he yells something back at the sidekick that’s been left at the door. 

Throwing his duffle bag in the backseat with a heavy arm, he settles into the passenger seat next to you before pulling the car door shut with a loud slam and crossing his arms. 

“Long day,” he says, roughly, though if it’s a general statement or directed at you.

“I bet, baby,” You sympathize, eyes wide in question at the annoyed look he sports, “Wanna talk?” 

Turning away to stare out the window as you wait for his response, Bakugo grunts, rolling his eyes when the car doesn’t immediately start to move. 

Still, you persist, aware of what this behavior usually means. 

“You’re kinda sassy, huh?” 

Bakugo hums angrily, still refusing to look at you with his handsome, red eyes, to which you finally oblige to his silent request for silence.   

However, you’re barely two streets down and stopped at the first red light when he speaks again, voice still hard and angry, but cheeks red and mean expression since deflated. 

“Hold my hand,” he demands, opening and closing his palm at you over the divider to catch your attention. 

And you can’t help but laugh, smiling when you move to lock your fingers with his over the console, noticing how his shoulders sag and he just barely relaxes at the warmth. 

Still, for catching an attitude, especially since you knew what he wanted this entire time, you figure you the next words won’t hurt him too badly. They’re true, after all. 

“Katsuki,” you whine, voice knowingly playful, “You’re all sweaty!” 

But in trying to pull your hand back, Bakugo only grips harder. 

[cloudspark]

A lot of these are things I can’t explain why, it’s just vibes and mild projection that makes up my personal fanon.

Skull grew up in a very small town. Used to heavily idolize the “real world” outside and was convinced that his life couldn’t start for real until he got out of where he grew up. He left very young and never looked back.

He always stood out from the crowd, not really in a good way. But as long as Skull could remember he had been convinced that he was meant for greater things.

I don’t have a consistent idea of what his relationship with his parents was like( it’s kind of hard to imagine it tbh) but I always imagine that it wasn’t incredibly close and for some reason they didn’t keep in touch after Skull left. He definitely didn’t tell anyone about his plan before and left like a note or something.

Only child.

Bisexual.

Committed a bunch of petty- and mostly harmless- crimes as a child, like shoplifting and vandalism and trespassing. Graffitied on the school building at least once. Also got into schoolyard brawls. OG teenage dirtbag.

Big impulse spender/buyer. It’s worse nowadays when he has the money to justify this habit.

Has a poor sense of direction.

Easily restless, both in a literal sense of it being annoying to sit through things without fidgeting and losing concentration, but also in a greater sense of having an extreme dislike for when life and the status quo grows stale.

Did pretty badly in school. He actually has talent/potential for a lot of the “booksmart” topics, the way school was set up just didn't agree with him. Like how a lot of neurodivergent kids do badly without a support structure and are instead called lazy or dumb, except Skull never got any diagnosis or anything he is just kinda like that™. But obviously he can put in the work and achieve great things, I mean nowadays he is literally The Greatest.

Skull somehow simultaneously has a very high opinion of himself and at the same time believes himself to be inherently unlikable. It’s hard to explain but basically a mindset that goes a lot like “I am actually awesome but no one else will ever agree”. Then he gets annoyed and guarded about his own assumptions and it makes it harder for people to actually like or respect him so he is shooting himself in the foot here lol.

He always reads into people’s actions and words with really bad faith too, but he’s usually wrong. Gets offended anyhow. He treats a  lot of his thoughts and assumptions in general- both better and worse- as if they were reality, and then acts accordingly.

Likes coffee, but the opposite way of Reborn does. Reborn is a snob about the taste and roast and all the fancy stuff whereas Skull will down anything vaguely resembling coffee that he happened to find behind the 7/11 dumpster.

He does a lot of extreme sports but his favorite non-motorsport is freeskiing.

Skull hates having to own up to things he did wrong, both to others and mentaly, so his first instinct is to pass the blame to those around him.

He wishes he cared a little less about what others thought of him, but he will always keep doing his own thing either way. He also wishes he was more coolheaded, but he is too easily thrown-off his game.

Please send me your own headcanons for Skull I want to hear. Or if you get something to say on mine. Anon is open too.

realising i never dropped my hc for skull oops

[allthefilmsiveseenforfree]

Old (2021)

Oh you guys. You guyyyyyys. Buckle the fuck up, I am so pumped to tell you about this absolutely GONZO mummified deuce of a movie. Spoilers will be had in this one, because you need to know everything. 

Old is the latest from M. Night Shyamalan and like....I think we all know M. Night’s track record. For every Sixth Sense, we also get a Happening or a Village. In some ways, he’s the most exciting director working today because every new film is a 50/50 coin toss, and mama loves living on the edge. The gist of this latest roll of the dice is that a group of different families who have all come to stay at a remote luxury beach resort get invited to go to a secluded private beach for the day, and after they arrive they discover they can’t leave. That’s not great, but the bigger problem is that they seem to be aging rapidly - like 2 years older every hour or so. That’s a solid “how are we gonna get outta this one” bottle episode premise, and in the hands of a better writer, it could be a fun sci-fi romp. M. is NOT that writer. 

Some thoughts:

I should have known it would all go wrong from the terrible foreshadowing starting at the very beginning scene. The mom of our main family, Prisca (Vicky Krieps) says “You have such a beautiful voice, I can’t wait to hear it when you’re older.” The dad, Guy (Gael Garcia Bernal) says, “Don’t rush this moment, enjoy the present while you can.” BECAUSE THE CHARACTERS WON’T BE ABLE TO LATER, DO YOU GET IT? dO yOU GEt iT? Wife leaned over and said “look at all the ferns - the oldest plants!” That last one was probably her projecting, but the point stands: there is nothing subtle about Old. 

There’s a lot of just like, shouting out loud the things that are currently happening onscreen. “She’s having a seizure!” “People who go back the way we came black out!” “The rust has entered your bloodstream; it acts like poison!” That’s how you tell stories, right? Just having characters point out events that are occurring right in front of their stupid fucking faces with no other commentary or reflection? 

An additional element that feels woefully ignorant at best and malicious at worst is the inclusion of a black male character (Aaron Pierre) who 1) is a rapper 2) is named Mid-Sized Sedan [I’ll give you a moment to deal with that detail emotionally] 3) says the single line of dialogue “Damn.” at least 4 times and 4) suffers the bloodiest, most violent onscreen death at the hands of a racist white man who is revealed to have paranoid schizophrenia. There are other gruesome deaths onscreen, to be sure, but the worst are body horror nightmares that could never occur in the real world - a woman whose bones are breaking and setting in the wrong position nearly instantaneously until she resembles a horrifying spider creature, and the aforementioned rust-in-the-bloodstream trick that leads to a Jeff-Goldblum-in-The Fly-bubbling-skin infection kinda deal. But Mid-Sized Sedan just gets stabbed in the chest repeatedly, brutally, a bunch of times by a white guy who pleads fear for his life even though MSS posed no danger to him, and it all happens onscreen when so many other characters are offered the mercy of offscreen deaths. I’m not sure if M. is trying to throw some real-world horror in and he’s just shit at it, or if it really didn’t occur to him how malicious this inclusion feels in a fantasy narrative, and I don’t really care. If you have a black character in your story and they die, you better think really long and hard about how it happens and what it means and it’s clear no one did that here.

Nothing to do with the film itself, but it did tickle me that someone brought a tiny infant to my pretty packed screening. The baby was very chill, thank goodness, and as far as I know did not age up to a kindergartner during the course of the film.

There is a Very Good Dog, a Yorkie, present for the first part of the film, but unfortunately the dog dies. It occurs offscreen, and given the premise of what’s going on on this beach, it’s not a shock when it happens BUT STILL. 

The old age makeup, at least on Prisca is pretty great. Good job makeup department!

At one point, Guy gets attacked by another beachgoer, and his eyesight is failing so he has a hard time fighting back. But you are surrounded by sand, my dude, and you can still see blurry shapes. You’re not gonna throw some sand in the eyes until you’ve been stabbed like 10 times? Not gonna try to push him down, or sweep the fucking leg, or do anything but just keep raising your arms and getting stabbed while yelling “I’ll protect you!” I’ve seen stale tuna sandwiches with better defense mechanisms than you. 

Like most fantastical premises, there are only a certain number of ways this narrative can end that really make any sense. It reminds me quite a bit of 2019’s Brightburn which was like “what if Superman but evil?” Either everyone is gonna die, or someone is going to improbably survive and you better have a real neat explanation for how that’s possible. Oh M. Night, when will you realize that your explanations are never as clever as you think they are? There’s no “twist” here really, simply a reveal, and it’s the equivalent of eating one of those sugar-free, gluten-free, egg-free, dairy-free snack cakes I broke down and ate out of desperation when I was on Weight Watchers. That shit is “food” in the same way that the climax is a “logical explanation for all this.” Big Pharma is luring sick people to the resort through targeted ads, then arranging these excursions to the wacky time beach in order to test how medicine they secretly slipped into the guests’ drinks works over decades of life. These sneaky medical breakthroughs are saving hundreds of thousands of people’s lives, we’re told, and the scientists offer a moment of silence for each fallen group of unwitting human lab rats after they inevitably die. Because if there’s one thing the world needs right now, it’s more distrust of pharmaceutical companies and the ethics of modern science! I can’t think of one possible reason we’d want to portray molecular biologists, immunologists, and virologists in a positive light right now, can you? When will those assholes get off their high horses and stop being universally trusted and beloved by everyone, am I right?? 

My saddest takeaway, tbh, is that this is a stacked international cast, with at least half the roles going to POC - this is the future liberals want, etc etc - and the result is THIS.

Did I Cry? Of course not.

Not all is terrible! It’s a beautiful movie to look at, because M. Night’s direction is never the problem, but combined with the script, the acting, and the absurd narrative leaps needed to make this story make even a little bit of sense, the whole thing turns into a mess. Unfortunately, getting Old with M. Night is less “leisurely retirement at a plush resort in Florida” and more “rancid can of Ensure and a poop-choked pair of Depends.”

If you liked this review, please consider reblogging or subscribing to my Patreon! For as low as $1, you can access bonus content and movie reviews, or even request that I review any movie of your choice.

[marveldc-imagines-hub]

Subtitles: Episode 8, Previously On

Subtitles Masterlist

Summary: As they seek out Vision a Westview that doesn’t seem to want them to find him, more memories from [Y/N]’s past begin to appear. They almost seem drawn out of the dark depths of their mind by some unseen force but it’s hard to tell whether it’s friend or foe. Who is forcing [Y/N]’s memories to the forefront of their mind--Wanda or someone else?--and is it tied to the suddenly hostile Westview blocking them from finding Vision? Who is trying to keep them distracted?

Word count: 6,584

Warnings: Cursing, descriptions of death and declining mental health. Mostly angst, tbh.

Tag list: @madamevirgo @ravennight41 @multifandomgirl16 @cyanide-mustard @badasspolygenderfriend @austynparksandpizza @sophster1881 @haileyybird​ @maceidelic​ @alexpress @angelvinella

Ko-Fi Shoppe

~~~

You were too busy trying to calm the anxious gnawing in your stomach to notice Westview subtly changing around you. It wasn’t until a vine wrapped tightly around your ankle and made you almost trip and fall face-first into a fire hydrant that you looked around with a frown.

    The vine itself—thick, spiky, and definitely not native to the suburbs of New Jersey—had sprouted from cracks in the sidewalk, which spread and opened further as other vines crept after it. After tearing the one holding you off and stepping out of its reach, you noticed the fences of houses reaching far past their yards to create maze-like paths that covered the sidewalks and street ahead of you. The houses that these fences belonged to were also warped in a way that made them look like you were viewing them through funhouse mirrors, stretching far into the sky and bending overhead in your direction like they meant to block you from leaving in that direction—or meant to block you from being seen by anyone flying overhead.

    Your eyebrows arched so far up on your forehead that you weren’t sure that they were still there. “What the fuck is going on?”

    You weren’t as concerned about the magic happening itself—if some random civilian walked by, they’d barely react at all and the maze and houses weren’t causing any actual damage, just being incredibly annoying—as you were by the fact that you couldn’t tell who was doing it. Your first thought was Wanda, naturally, but it made no sense that she’d be trying to keep you from finding Vision when she was the one who’d originally sent you to go get him; not to mention that she’s never created such a bizarre display of magic, at least intentionally. You considered yourself next, as you’ve known yourself to cause random transmutations when you get too antsy, but this wasn’t the type of power that you controlled and when you tried to reach out to interact with the energy, you received opposition instead of energy bending to your will. It was somewhat difficult to pick out because it seemed to hide away under the blanket of Wanda’s magic that reached across everything in Westview, but the aura of the twisted architecture surrounding you was dark and hostile.

    You first attempted to humor whatever magic was at play and made your way through the maze but as you did so, the fences shifted around you to extend their white picket prison. You stopped and sighed. “The end is nigh… and I am not going to spend it dealing with this shit.”

    A little voice in the back of your head told you that you could probably set fire to the whole magic mirror setup and be done with it but you ultimately decided against it; Wanda would probably find out and definitely wouldn’t be happy when she did. Instead, you placed your hands on the fence and as you did so, posts morphed into gates that you could easily pass through. You continued through the maze via this method and were surprised to feel the opposing magic back away from you after your pushback.

    “Oh, thank god,” you grumbled under your breath as you made it through the last of the maze. 

Unfortunately, you celebrated too early as the cement underneath your feet suddenly began to melt back into its liquid form. It would have been fairly easy to use your powers to reharden the cement but exhausting yourself fighting with the opposing force until the sidewalks of Westview shifted into grassy fields on its outskirts seemed like a bad idea in the long run, especially with the twins’ disappearance, Wanda dealing with Agnes’s strange behavior, Monica’s return, and the warning churn of your stomach telling you to stay alert. So, you settled for trudging along through wet cement until the magic decided to back off again.

Not so much trying to cause damage as it’s trying to mildly inconvenience me, is it? you thought.

Just as before, once the magic trying to keep you distracted was rivaled by your own, it receded and you were soon walking on the regular, hard sidewalk once more. You cleaned your pants and shoes up by turning the wet cement still clinging to them into something much more manageable—water—and continued on your way. Sorting through the mix of concern, nips of mild hunger, and the energy-seeking compass in the center of your now twisting in every which direction, you managed to eventually focus back into the feeling of Vision somewhere in the distance. It got stronger as you walked, so you began to pick up the pace.

Then your unseen opponent returned, stronger and now in the mental realm instead of the physical. At first, you thought the kickback was just Westview’s borders—the Hex, Monica had called it—trying to right the wrongs of someone within it having memories of the outside world, something you’d experienced before. However, you felt the menace rippling underneath the surface of the haze and when you tried to fight back this time, you were met with an angry strength. The fog making your head feel heavy seemed to spread through your bloodstream and take home in your bones, weighing your body down until you stood still and lame in the middle of a random neighborhood. You were a prisoner in your own body; you couldn’t move even if you wanted to, but you didn’t even know if you did because your brain was so full of dark storm clouds that you couldn’t think straight. You knew that you stared slack-jawed into space but it felt more like you were sitting in a dark room inside your skull and watching the outside world from a TV screen. As you watched on, the fog that took over your mind and body took your eyesight too.

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The first few memories were fleeting. 

You were a few years old and holding your mother’s hand. It was much less boney and knotted than you remembered your mother’s hand being, as was the rest of her. She was younger and stronger, standing next to you in a worn nurse uniform and overcoat and staring ahead with a scowl, concealing whatever emotions she was feeling otherwise. You were in a bedroom that was only vaguely familiar to you and the two of you watched an old man that was barely more than a skeleton slept under a heap of fraying blankets. As you stared on through the wide eyes of your child self, your grandfather heaved a final breath before falling into a deep, eternal slumber.

A couple of years older, you were in the old but cozy, sunny yellow kitchen that your mom love to cook in. You sat at the dining room table, kicking your legs and picking at the splitting wood as your mother and a stranger argued in the other room. You had never heard your mother raise her voice to such an extent before but at the time, you were much more concerned about what kind of sandwich you were going to help her make for lunch. You never saw the stranger aside from a flash of [H/C] as he left and he was never seen or heard of again.

You were still in the kitchen but its appearance had changed ever so slightly. Yours did too, as you were a teenager now, and now your mother sat across from you at the table. Though she was still healthy now, her overall haggard appearance would be one that she carried on for years to come. She was telling you about her doctor’s appointment but you were only somewhat listening as you were stressed about high school drama and final assignments to be turned in before summer break. You heard words like “dementia” and “Alzheimer’s” but the meanings were lost on you in that moment.

Then you were in a nursing home. You could feel the harsh lighting, hear the TV from the lounge behind you. The smell of cleaning supplies burned your nostrils but the smell of your mother’s stale perfume soothed it. Unfortunately, nothing could soothe the ache that made your heart feel like it was going to shrivel up and die when you came to tell her that you changed your major in college so you would be better equipped to help her, only for her unable to recall having a child at all.

You were pinned against a wall in a Sokovian HYDRA base, although you didn’t know the organization that you were studying with was HYDRA at the time. Shivers of equal parts fear and exhilaration made your entire body quiver and the clipboard you’d been holding clattered to the ground. While a large group of Sokovian war protestors had to hunch together to fit in the cramped and cold holding room, Wanda seemed to take up the majority of the space just from her spot of holding you into place. Her hair was a mess and her face and clothes were dirty but her eyes were full of more life than you’d experienced during your entire time working in the base. She was angry and determined and powerful and gorgeous, and she told you that if you ever ran into her again that she’d kill you—and you were surprised with how okay you were about the idea, as long as you got to see her again. When she let you go and you apologized, she told you what she and the others were doing here; this was the catalyst that sent you investigating into HYDRA and finding out about their much more sinister nature, as well as the pain you’d helped cause.

Finally, the slide show of memories slowed and instead of being confined to your brain, you were back in your own body—or so you thought until you looked around and found yourself staring at a younger copy of yourself. Instead of Westview, you were in a HYDRA testing room, and instead of simply re-experiencing, you were quite literally watching a memory unfold around you as if you were an unwanted audience member standing around the active set of a TV show. Or a ghost, you decided, as the younger you walked through you as if you were nothing but air.

Your younger self was dressed in an all-black work uniform and lab attire, with an identification card clipped to your chest that granted you high-level clearance. You’d worked immensely hard playing HYDRA’s game to get to where you were now, which was standing in the control room with two other agents and preparing to analyze the test about to unfold on the other side of a large glass window. In the test chamber, a door slowly slid open and Wanda, unkempt and spacey, entered.

You wanted to break her out. Judging by the way your younger self tensed up—not enough to be noticed by your superiors; you’d mastered your mother’s emotional lockdown of a scowl at this point—your feelings weren’t far off from the initial experience. 

Wanda made her way farther into the room, closer to a scepter with a glowing blue stone that was being held on a pedestal. As she did so, the younger you readied their clipboard and pen to take notes and one of the two agents spoke, “For our notes, Miss Maximoff, can you please state your name and confirm your status?”

The younger copy of your current partner did as she was told. “Wanda Maximoff. Volunteer.”

“Begin experimentation,” the other agent—a doctor and one of your immediate superiors—stated.

“Doctor,” the first man said, “with respect, not one subject has survived direct contac—”

He was broken off as the doctor flicked on the intercom to speak to Wanda again. “Touch the sample.”

Wanda made her way forward but before she could do much, the stone suspended in the scepter—the mind stone, you knew now—detached itself and floated towards her. As it got closer, its glow grew brighter and bright blue magic wafted over Wanda as she stared before reaching out to touch it. While you remembered this situation thus far, what happened next was completely new to you. The mind stone shattered before Wanda’s eyes, revealing yellow golden yellow magic that poured from the remains. There was an explosion of light and within it was a flash of a shadow. From where you were standing, you couldn’t quite make out the shape.

Then the light died and Wanda collapsed, and the rest of the memory ran as you remembered. The scientist and doctor ran out to check that Wanda was still alive, while your younger self recollected themselves enough to take pictures of notes and research reports from the control desk with an old school digital camera that they’d managed to sneak in.

“Well,” a familiar, incredibly out-of-place voice sounded from behind you, “that’s a surprise. I had no idea you and [Y/N] went so far back.”

You spun around to see Agnes and a modern Wanda standing just behind you. Agnes watched your echo with mild curiosity as they carefully rifled through the control desk and gathered as much information as they could to examine at a later time. The dark energy that radiated off the woman was the same that you’d sensed earlier, hiding just underneath Wanda’s own. Being this close to the unhidden source now, the magic felt sharp and acidic and tasted like bile on the back of your tongue. The anxiety that had been gnawing at your stomach increased tenfold as your guts twisted around themselves. It had been Agnes all along.

Past you finished their investigation as they were called in to take Wanda to solitary by one of the other HYDRA agents. When they rushed out of the control room, they passed through Wanda and Agnes, confirming that the women were in a similar state of being to you.

Surprisingly, Agnes was completely unaware of current you’s presence. She walked casually over to the desk and attempted to make sense of younger you’s rummaging before making a face and shrugging.

Wanda, on the other hand, was staring directly at you. To anyone else, it could be said that she was simply looking through you who the commotion happening in the test chamber, but when you met her gaze, the slightest of jaw clenches told you otherwise. While it was Agnes—Not Agnes, a ghost of a whisper in sounded in your head—whose magic had been toying with you, it seemed that it was Wanda’s doing, at least to some extent, that brought you to watch this scene with them. 

“You know,” the ravenette said, “I really did like them for a while. They were fun to string along for entertainment, and they were a hoot at events and to run errands with. Such an awkward little thing. I could see their crush from a mile away whenever you three were around each other. I just thought they’d be the out-of-place, pining neighbor whose love was unrequited, a comedic plot device of sorts. I didn’t think you would actually return their feelings, let alone both you and your husband, you naughty dogs. I should have known sooner that something was up.”

You and me both, sister, you thought with a soundless snort.

“Oh well,” Agnes—question mark?—said with another shrug, “our friendship was fun while it lasted. Let me know if you ever get bored with them. We did often flirt a bit, [Y/N] and I.”

“What do they have to do with any of this?” Wanda asked, throwing a mild glower in the other woman’s direction.

“Why don’t you tell me?” Agnes responded with a sickly sweet smile, then walked past Wanda and out of the testing room. “Come along, dear! We’ve got much more digging to do.”

Wanda glanced at you one last time before following. After a moment, you trailed after them.

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Past Wanda was sitting and watching sitcoms via the one amenity she had the dungeon-like room she was held in when your past self walked in.

“Wanda,” past you gasped and moved to rush to her side before freezing and throwing a glance towards a security camera in one corner of the room. The faintest blue-black light danced appeared to dance around your echo’s fingers as the lens of the camera warped and changed into a round silver disc, then the light disappeared and you watched yourself hurry to younger Wanda’s side. 

She didn’t acknowledge you until you placed a gentle hand on her back. She jumped a bit and turned her glassy-eyed, hollow-cheeked face towards you; in the same instant, the TV turned off. 

Past Wanda offered past you a wobbly smile that you returned. You reached into your pocket and pulled out a candy wrapped in colored foil that looked neon in comparison to the dull coloring of the rest of the environment.

“Hey, look, Wanda,” you tried, offering the candy to her, “I brought you something. Remember these? You told me once that they’re your favorite.”

Wanda stared blankly at your gift. After a moment, she took it and began picking at the foil.

Past you gave past Wanda another strained smile. Your furrowed brows caused deep lines to be etched into your forehead, showing no lack of concern, but you tried to stay positive. Gingerly running your hand up and down Wanda’s back, you carefully looked over as she freed the chocolate-covered candy from its wrapper. “You look good. You’re doing much better than you were when we brought you back.”

Wanda’s eyes lazily traced the pattern of the room’s stone walls as she brought her treat to her lips and carefully nibbled at it. When she found it free of tampering, she relaxed a bit and popped it into her mouth.

You watched as your past self rested their chin on her shoulder and squeezed her eyes shut. “I’m going to get you out of here, Wanda. I promise that I’m going to save you. I just… wish you’d let me help you more.”

Well, young me, you thought, you certainly broke that promise, then went off and murdered a bunch of people. Nice job.

Wanda’s past self finally fully acknowledged yours; she rested her head on top of yours and her thin fingers brushed brushed over the knuckles of one of your hands. She shook her head and mumbled, “I have to do this. For my people.”

Your echo sighed. The two of you sat like that together for a few moments longer before you separated yourself from her and headed out of the room. As you walked out of the room, the silver that blocked the security camera transformed back into a lens. Wanda looked back to the TV and blinked, and the television turned back on.

“Huh,” Agnes piped up to Wanda again, “they were just as piney here as they are in Westview then. Weird. I thought they had a reputation as a crazy psycho killer outside? Hoo boy, did you see any of the work that they did after Sokovia? I looked into it when I figured out that they weren’t just another ordinary townee. The Alchemist? Wished I’d managed to keep them on my side; I’d love to sit down and talk about all the ways they tore up those agents.”

You grimaced. You never regretted going on a HYDRA manhunt but it wasn’t exactly one of your most redeeming qualities.

Wanda frowned. “Trying to cope with all they had done while working with HYDRA was too much and they had to do it alone. I told [Y/N] I would return but then I never did. They thought it was their only solution.”

You were surprised to hear her empathize with you, let alone know about your revenge spree at all. You hadn’t realized how much it felt like a secret that you had been keeping from her until a weight was lifted off your shoulders when she talked about it.

“Still,” Agnes said nonchalantly, “turning an alive former HYDRA agent into a very much not alive scarecrow and leaving posting him up in his own field? Genius and I love the creativity. And the way they turned the guy who shot them into a bloody bag of bones? Delicious.

“But anyway,” she went on, the glee in her voice shifting to something more pensive, “little orphan Wanda got up close and personal with an Infinity Stone that amplified what otherwise would’ve died on the vine. The broken pieces of you are adding up, buttercup. I have a theory, but I need more.”

With a wave of her hand, a dark wood door appeared in the room’s far wall. Wanda’s eyes widened slightly with recognition and she immediately walked forward and through it. Agnes trailed cheerfully after her.

You made a move to follow them but you didn’t make it before Agnes shut the door behind her. You jiggled the doorknob but the door wouldn’t budge, and then it melted back into the wall and vanished altogether. While you were relieved to be away from Agnes’s acrid magic, panic rose in the back of your throat at the idea of Wanda being alone with Agnes and you being trapped in a bizarre memory realm with no idea of how to get out. You ran your hands along the wall in hopes of finding the door’s outline once more, to no avail. You spun around to search for another route—

—and you were suddenly standing on a street in Westview. 

This wasn’t Westview as you currently knew it but Westview before Wanda had turned it into her special little safe haven. Instead of watching this memory like a movie, you were now involuntarily reliving it as a prisoner of your head again as your body and mouth move on its own accord.

You were paused mid-walk across the street and staring at a breathtakingly gleeful Vision for the very first time. He was standing out in the open without a human disguise of any kind, wearing a very attractive form-fitting turtleneck and looking over an empty plot of land. He must have felt you staring because he turned his warm, earth-shaking gaze towards you.

“Hello there!” he hollered with a friendly wave and a smile that made you wonder if one look from a stranger could make you weep over how attractive they were. He stepped from the dirt plot to the sidewalk, then made his way to the curb. He held a slightly crumpled piece of paper in one hand and you could see a red heart in its center out of the corner of your eye.

For whatever reason—maybe because of the fact that there was a very inhuman-looking man, who was causing your body to have all sorts of reactions, walking towards you—you felt compelled to walk over and meet him. 

“Excuse me,” Vision said as you got closer and pointed to the lot behind him, “I’m looking to buy this spot here. Do you live around here?”

Temporarily, while I try to look for a cure for my dumb-bitch memory disease, you thought. Instead of saying this aloud, though, you said something much more stupid. “Are you aware that you’re red?”

Vision blinked. He looked at his hands if he was in fact just now realizing this, then looked back at you with wide eyes. One hand moved to touch the golden gem embedded in his forehead, which you now connected to the mind stone on the previous memory that you had experienced—Wanda’s memory. 

“Oh, goodness,” Vision said, “yes I am. I’m sorry, I hope my appearance doesn’t make you uncomfortable. If it does, I could make a more appealing one—”

You felt yourself break into a grin and one of your hands waved itself dismissively at him. “Not sure there’s a way to make yourself any more appealing than you already are. It’s just unusual is all.”

Vision chewed on one side of his bottom lip before smiling sheepishly at you. If only you’d been able to tell when this interaction had actually happened that he was “blushing” in the only way his synzethoid body allowed over you complimenting him; you would have had a field day with making him flustered.

Then his eyes drifted slightly above your eyeline and the hand touching his forehead gem fluttered slightly to the right—his left. Without thinking of how it might come off, he said, “You’re unusual-looking yourself.”

Luckily, you weren’t too easily offended. You briefly touched the gunshot scar on your forehead with one hand, the exit wound scar on your neck with the other, before dropping them both and shrugging. “Got shot in the head once. Operation gone wrong.”

“A soldier?” 

Unfortunately, the version of you in this memory was already struggling to recall memories. Instead of telling the pretty stranger that, though, you said, “Something like that.”

Vision nodded and awkwardly fiddled with the paper in his hands. His gaze flitted around before settling on you again, “Well, I think you’re appealing too.”

You felt your cheeks grow warm but you hid your embarrassment with a snicker. “Thanks.”

The man cleared his throat. “Yes, well, that’s good then, isn’t it? That we both like each other’s looks just fine. Not… that I want you to find my visuals appealing. Not— not that that’s a bad thing to be doing so either! It’s just that—” he paused to collect himself. “I have a partner. A girlfriend of sorts.”

“Of sorts?”

“It hasn’t really been discussed,” he clarified, “but we are deep in the throughs of our relationship.”

“Congrats? Also yeah.”

Vision blinked. “I’m sorry?”

You pointed over your shoulder. “I live around here. In a hotel more often than a home but I’m considering getting a rental a couple houses over.”

Because if I don’t find who I’m looking for—a doctor? Scientist maybe?—I’ll be stuck here until I remember where I came from.

    You were brought out of your grumbling thoughts by the childish excitement that erupted from Vision’s shining smile and spread throughout his body until he was practically vibrating. He quickly scrambled the rest of the way over and flashed the paper he held at you, then almost immediately folded it up before you could actually see anything other than a flash of red on white. He told you how wonderful it was to be meeting someone from the neighborhood and before you open your mouth to say anything in response, a billion questions seemed to pour one after the other from his mouth. You caught a few—did you know why the plot he was looking at was open, if there was a nefarious reason behind it lacking any home already? Was the neighboorhood safe, did you like it there?—but you soon found yourself distracted by the way the gear-like patterns in his blue irises swirled faster as Vision became increasingly giddy.

    Then one word came flying out of his rambling mouth and you felt like you had been hit in the gut with a sack of bricks. You actually had to stop yourself from choking on a gasping breath and steel yourself in preparation in case he said her name again. Luckily, Vision seemed too deep in his his own thoughts that he didn’t notice you blanching from the kickback of yours.

    Wanda? It couldn’t be. It wasn’t like there weren’t any other Wandas in the world. Then again, you’d never met another Wanda since your Wanda and there was something about her name coming from his mouth that assured you that his Wanda was yours too.

    Is that why you had come to Westview? Was Wanda the one you were looking for?

    You placed a hand on Vision’s shoulder, both as a way of grounding yourself and grabbing the man’s attention. It worked and Vision’s bumbling died off as he looked at you with wide eyes.

    “I’m so sorry,” he said, and lifted his free hand to scratch at the side of his neck, “I got quite carried away there, didn’t I?”

    This past version of you wanted so desperately ask about the Wanda he spoke of, to confirm that she was the Wanda that you’d known in what seemed to be a past life at this point. You wanted to know if she was safe, happy, and if he was taking care of her in the way that she so needed after everything she had been through. When you looked at Vision, though, and the plot plans in his hand and the place of his and her future home, you bit your tongue. Something told you that it wasn’t your time to ask nor was it your right to do so. It had been so long since you’d tried to help the Sokovian woman escape a dingy HYDRA base and failed, and wherever she was now, she was probably better off without you intruding.

    You put on a mask of a friendly smile to hide the way your heart was being picked to pieces by a thousand imaginary needles and gave Vision’s shoulder an equally friendly pat. “No worries. I do have to stop you, though, have an appointment to get to. I’m really not the person to ask about future home life—like I said, usually a hotel—but if I have anything to tell you, it’s that this is a good place to settle.”

    Vision beamed. “Really?”

    You dropped your arm and stepped away from the robotic stranger to take your leave. “This place is easy to turn into a home. You’ll love it here.”

    Vision heaved a sigh a relief and he waved to you and you gave a parting nod and began walking. “Thank you! Oh, and it was nice meeting you, neighbor! Hope to see you again soon!”

    Something deep in your heart told you that you wouldn’t be seeing the British gentleman again, or maybe you were finally coming to terms with the fact that your brain would drop yoru memory of him before the day was over. You cast one last glance over your shoulder, trying to commit every detail of Vision to memory the best that you could, before heading back across the street.

    “Looking forward to it!”

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    One minute you were walking and the next you couldn’t feel any part of your body that was below your waistline. The scene had shifted again and you now found yourself staring spacily off ahead. You were outside and you felt the familiar presence of a large facility behind you but you couldn’t place what the building was for or why you were there. In fact, try as you might, you couldn’t place much meaning to anything. Your brain was blank aside from several questions that you had no answers to.

    Why were you in a wheelchair? What had happened to your legs? Why were you outside? Why were there old people and people in scrub uniforms milling around you and talking to you in passing as if you had any idea who they were? Where was your mom? You had classes to attend and needed a ride.

    You took a sighing breath and felt a tanginess of citrus on your tongue that sent shockwaves throughout your body—or what left of it that you could feel. Your eyes shot open wide and you swung your head around, looking for the source of the taste of candied citrus, the feeling of thin fingers carefully brushing across your knuckles. There was a memory there, clawing just under the surface of thought-killing fungus that seemed to have taken over your head over… however long it had been now. You just had to remember—

    Before you could could remember, you saw her appear before your very eyes. She was walking down the street past you with only a green yard and strip of sidewalk separating the two of you. She wore a dark outfit and her hair cascaded behind her in the breeze, fluttering like flames. You couldn’t see her face well because of the distance you could feel the deep, powerful sadness radiating off her in waves; it was almost strong enough to force you into tears. Still, she walked with purpose and she held a piece of paper in her hand that she glanced at every other second. She happened to turn her head to toss a stray chunk of her back over her shoulder and for a brief moment you thought that her dark eyes met yours.

    You screamed her name and attempted to chase after her. However, in that moment, you forgot that you were paralyzed from the waist down and stuck in a wheelchair, so when you lurched forward to stand, you were quickly greeted by hard earth knocking the wind out of you. You hissed in pain but the impact didn’t stop you, nor did your lack of working legs. You shoved the wheelchair away in a fit of irritation, then began crawling your way across the public yard, following a trail of a very specific shade of red as you dragged your body along.

    You didn’t make it very far before you felt strong hands grasp your shoulders. You flailed around, prepared to fight whoever was trying to disrupt your mission, only for you stop struggling altogether when a flash of reddish hair appeared in the corner of your vision. You looked up at and stared at the only face that held solidity in your mind with eyes the size of dinner plates as she knelt next to you and helped you into a decent sitting position. Once you were settled, her hands moved from your arms to cradling your face and when you could see the heartbreak in her eyes this time, you actually did feel a few tears wet your cheeks.

    Your eyes fluttered shut as her gentle hands caressed your face, brushed away the tears that were now flowing like a waterfall. Your own hands found their way to her waist and you held on for dear life. With a wobbly voice that was barely above a whisper, you gasped her name again, “Wanda…”

    You felt the warm touch of her forehead pressing against yours, her nose ungracefully bumping against your cheek as she held you. “[Y/N]?”

    Hearing your name on her tongue sent you into a fit of sobbing laughter, though you weren’t sure why. Goosebumps erupted across your skin and you felt the stuttering of a billion bird’s wings in your stomach, pounding against your ribcage. You had so many things you wanted to say and yet you could remember a single word, so you merely fell into a bumbling chant of “My Wanda, my Wanda, my Wanda, my Wanda…” Your eyes stayed squeezed shut for fear that if you opened them, she would no longer be there. 

    Wanda’s lips brushed against your eyelids and then your cheeks, not quite leaving kisses but a warm, tingly feeling nonetheless. A smile was there, you could feel the curve of it as her mouth traveled from your temple to your hairline, but it was one of the same sadness that you’d seen in her eyes. She mumbled against your scarred forehead, “Oh, [Y/N], what happened to you…?”

    You finally opened your eyes—luckily, she didn’t vanish into thin air once you did—and finally met her gaze again. You moved your hands to cover hers that still held your face and pressed them harder against your cheeks, as if you could imprint her fingerprints into your skin.

    After a moment of just silently basking in her presence, you sighed softly and replied, “I don’t know.”

    Pain further etched itself into the lines of Wanda’s face; you quickly reached out to smooth them out with your fingertips.

    “You don’t remember anything?”

    “Not much,” you replied. Then you smiled. “I know you. All I know for sure is you.”

    Wanda looked like she was on the verge of bursting into tears herself but she swallowed her sobs instead. She adjusted her position and sat back slightly, scrubbed her hands over her eyes and looked around at your surroundings. She glanced at the paper she’d once been holding but now sat in the grass next to her before her gaze settled back on you. Sadness shifted into determination as she took your face her hands once more.

    “I’m going to get you out of here, [Y/N],” she said, “I promise I’m going to save you.”

    You went to nod but the sound of something flying overhead caught your attention, then a flash of yellow light over Wanda’s shoulder.

    A powerful jerk in your stomach seemed to control your entire body, forcing your head and body upward. Then you were standing on the sidewalk on the outskirts of a neighborhood with a maze of twisted houses and picket fences behind you. You were no longer trapped inside your own head, watching or reliving memories, but standing mid-step in the Westview that was bubbled by a Hex of modern Wanda’s own creation.

    Vision was flying through the air nearby and approaching fast.

    Your powers seemed to move one step ahead of your mind; before you finished the thought, one of the fun mirror houses was turned into a staircase that led to nowhere in the sky. As you turned and began racing up them, you waved your arms in Vision’s direction and hollered, “Hey! Toaster oven!”

    Vision was clearly on a mission home but you managed to catch his attention before he flew too far past you. He rounded back around and met you at the top of your stairs. He quickly surveyed your immediate surroundings, taking in the bizarre scenery before casting a concerned look your way. “What in the world is going on here?”

    “Uh, well,” you paused and took a glance around yourself, then rambled off, “I just spent a nondescript amount of time trapped in a mental live-action remake of my past and I’m pretty sure Agnes is not Agnes but some unpleasant, magic-y person who kidnapped our kids and now is trying to get… something, I’m not sure what, from Wanda. Also, I think she might have a crush on me and I’m pretty sure she caused the carnival set-up next to us.”

    Vision blinked. “Well, that’s… a lot.”

    You hummed your agreement and nodded. Then you held out your arms to him. “Shall we?”

    Vision eyed you from your place on a freshly mutated staircase then snorted softly as he gathered you into his arms, bridal style. “Surely there must be a way for you to travel with those powers of yours.”

    “There is,” you affirmed, “but this is probably faster and I should probably keep my strength to save our kids and your wife. Oh, by the way.”

    Vision gave you a questioning him as he prepared for flight. You wrapped your hands around his neck and brought your lips to his in an quick kiss. When you pulled away, you met his curious gaze and said, “I’m so happy to have met you.”

    Vision’s expression grew warmer and returned your kiss with a softer one of his own. He briefly nuzzled his forehead against yours before pulling away.

    “I’m glad to have met you too,” he said softly. Then he shifted his gaze to look past you, towards home, and he said, “Now, let’s go get our family.”

[akajustmerry]

Hi merry ik this is a super broad and vague qn but the other day my friend was saying she liked dc movies more than marvel Except that marvel has better cinematography and I ???? Hv never heard anyone say that in my life?? And like most of my friends agreed???? Anyway what do u think I trust u when it comes to this stuff cuz ur not like an mcu Stan or wtv u know u just appreciate superhero movies ✌🏽sorry to ask u a marvel/dc qn but I am truly just baffled 🤧

hello! thank u 💕 and tbh that opinion baffles me too?? cinematography is about presenting a mood, an emotion, evoking perspective and narrative with how the scene is filmed. in the case of marvel vs dc, very broadly I'd say the cinematic universes have very different ethos as to how they approach cinematography.

dc tends to be more varied, with each project having a relatively unique cinematography style usually indicative of the director and the vibe of the project overall. Cathy Yan's distinct and detailed vibrancy in birds of prey, deployed in service of showing us Harley's world, is a wonderful example. So is Snyder's biblically grandiose approach to superman in Man of Steel, and James Wan's lingering, sprawling take on Aquaman is also beautiful. None of these three films are filmed in a similar way. They're filmed uniquely to suit their subjects (as unique as a blockbuster can be anyway).

On the other hand, Marvel approaches cinematography in a more uniform way. We know this, not just from looking at the films themselves but from directors like Edgar Wright who were kicked off marvel projects early for refusing to conform to the mcu's creative standard when it comes to cinematography. That's not to say that there's no uniqueness at all, but the mcu leans on a consistent uniform look. The look isn't... Bad. The cinematography does a very tickabox job that looks fine. But there's very little flare or risk in what you see.

There's a big lack of flare and risk because the mcu is a branded product more than it is a story. And Disney needs to be able to sell their brand as widely and consistently as possible and the best way to do that is by creating a product that appeals to as many people as possible. So u find a formula, a look, a style that the most amount of people like and understand and you stick to it. which is what they've done. there's occasionally a little risk, here n there to keep things from being totally stale but generally it's a one size fits all.

people are always more comfortable with consistency and uniformity, it's human nature. so it's much easier to look at the mcu, see that it's cinematography all looks more or less the same and conclude it's better because it has a uniformity. the dccu is often criticised for lacking consistency in style but I think that it's a good thing that for better (birds of prey) or worse (james gunn suicide squad), dc let's it's creatives give their projects unique styles.

I think your friends are just more comfortable with uniformity and mistake that for better quality, despite the two concepts rarely ever being connected. kinda reminds me of how Apple users are always banging on about Apple products being better than the entire market despite that being objectively untrue for years. It's just because that's what they've been sold, that's what they're most comfortable with.

what do I think?? Between dc and the mcu, dc has far more interesting cinematography across the board because its allowed to be relatively varied, but most ppl view that as a negative because the mcu sells itself on uniformed superiority and ppl eat it UP. If Disney let mcu directors actually imbue projects with their unique visual styles like dc?? would be SICK. but the closest they ever came was Thor ragnarok and even then EVEN then it's still pretty safe 💀

hope that answered the question! x

[mewpirate]

Exactlyyyy if I ever do make a little angst fic on the two I'll prob use some headcanons here and there just to like ..... I guess make the characters (especially Auburn) less one-dinensional? I literally headcanon Auburn as a hippie goth for no reason.... Idrk it fits her whole "peace and justice" look .

like I love Auburn since she deserves SO SO MUCH better after being through a whole tragedy and her only arc was to avenge her dead momma but tbh.... She's kinda Mary sue-ish in a way? Idrk how to say it but yea the the whole "Skin-Taker's daughter " thing is kinda ehhhh.. bland and weird??? (Why the fuck does she have brown hair while Thade has black hair) Idk her personality is sorta stale in a way along with Lillian and it does make it really funny that the FREAKING SKIN-TAKER OF ALL THINGS is literally a deadbeat dad that never pays child taxes . It's obviously gonna be a MOSTLY awkward scenario.

Imagine taking care of/talking to a traumatized child after suffering from TWO incidents and a couple of years later a freaking skeleton murderer comes up and says "Hey I think that's my kid your talking to".

me opening up my wattpad account for the first time in years after scouring the internet for a crumb of Skin-taker content and not finding shit:

THERE ISN'T ANY GOD DAMN FOOD IN THIS HOUSE SO I GUESS I GOTTA MAKE IT MYSELF! FUCK!

[epic-sorcerer]

(Okay so for those of y’all who are like me and sensitive to people talking bad about stuff they like/general negativity, I’d advise scrolling away. I’ll be talking about a bad experience at Dairy Queen, as I am a sheltered kid of a Heath coach and sensitive to sugar. Do I like the food? No. Do I dislike the people who like the food? Also no. I’m glad people can enjoy something at such a low price. /gen)

If you like this chain, that’s cool. I have found memories of once eating fair Queen when I was really young. Once a vanilla ice cream and once chicken fingers and fries. Honestly I mgiht try the chicken again

However.

I saw a commercial aboht this chocolate chip cookie doe blizzard and I was like ��cool” and went on with my life. Days past, it is now the present. It’s a hot day and I wanted ice cream and I was like “:0 what about taht Dairy Queen thing!!”

So I convinced my Heath coach mom to drive us to Dairy Queen. She got a brownie ice cream thing, I got the blizzard. She also needed to get what ever by bio father asked for and bring it. I forgot what that was Bc he ended up having to choose something else bc the machine that made the original thing he wanted what broken.

He chose a chocolate shake and the guy took so long to make it. When mom got to the car where I was the blizzard had melted and I couldn’t do taht upside down thing. Secondly, they don’t have a lid that fits the blizzard cup. They instead have a big lid that balences on top the cup like a comically large hat

On the way home, as the blizzard melted, it started to drip onto my cupholder. Who ever decided aesthetic of a no-lid cup was cool can lick the inside of my cup holder. It’s so sticky. I understand they wanted it to look overflowing with stuff, but it’s not worth it.

Also. The taste.

BORING. UNINSPIRED. Every bite was the same and worse than the last, because my body steadily reacted worse and worse to the discusting amount of sugar. To cover this up, I put some Nutella in it and it was the only thing to make it tasteful. Bc it would otherwise, forlack of a better word, plastic ice cream.

I love everything cookie doe, but every thing jsut felt stale and boring. Like if a beisnuss man with his boring ass briefcase and suit was blended up with the fucking cookie doe. Ugh. It’s like hwat would happen if pretzels had normal salt instead of the big salt. The do it for a reason, it keeps each bite interesting and different.

This blizzard tasted like cookie flavored dry wall, exept it didn’t have the crunchy texture. Honestly, the texture wasn’t that bad really. The only decent part Tbh. I liked that they had cookie doe pellits and skinny chocolate chip squares. That was really the only good thing about it and even then it was okay.

Something about Dairy Queen is so bland, corporate, and safe. The ice cream version of McDonald’s. This “flavor” tastes like the sheer generic-ness of modern graphic design. The corporate artstyle.

Mom had this brownie ice cream thing. She said the brownie bits felt like dog treat pellets and she kept chewing and chewing but it never got destroyed.

We both had the awful feeling of the neutrition-less sludge settling inside our bodies. It felt awful, it almost hurt. To compensate, I ate a foot long, raw carrot but I still feel awful. It felt like I ate from burger lord from good omens.

At least with family owned ice cream, you can feel the love in it. One near where I live is simply named after a popular first name for a person. You get the feeling taht the person really exists and has a passion for ice cream. But I do not know who this Diary Queen is, it just sounds like a worse Freddy murcury. Like he ate cheese right before a show and his voice is suffering from not obeying the Singers Diet.

Even cold stone creamery is much better. Even if it is a big chain, there is still heart. There is emphasis and love for the employees’ ice cream mixing talents. They put on a show like mild habatchi and we watch in awe as they make our treat in font of us with such skill. Idk hwo well the cold stone employees are treated, but still. To the average customer, there is much more emphasis and appreciation aboht them compared to Dairy Queen

The guy at Dairy Queen took like way too long to make a fucking milkshake. I’m not blaming the guy, I’m Blaiming the company. I’m blaming whoever contributed to someone struggling with making a milkshake. Because that is not a happy or maybe even well trained employee.

By the way, it apparently tasted awful and watery, despite the fact the best part of the shake is the ice cream. Dairy Queen centers on ice cream. How did they fuck this up?

Anyways. I still feel sick. We all do. I did have fun complaining though. It’s nice that Dairy Queen puts “(treat)” after their name and almost everything they sell, implying they are a sometimes food. However, I feel they are more of a once a life time food. I dotn think I will ever buy from them again.

I feel the onyl reason my past memories were fond were bc of the context. The first one was when me and my family back in elementary school were driving a long way to a vacation spot and we stopped at a Dairy Queen that makes savory meals. I had fun bc I was exited for the vacation, the food itself was mediocre and cheap but I didn’t care.

The second time was also in elementary, I went to a Dairy Queen with a friend and her family and had lots of fun with them on a hot day. It’s the experience I was remembering, not the taste.

At least when you pay for stuff like fairs and festivals, the horrible conditions are worth it. Yes, you have to use portapottys, yes you have to be in close proximity to way too much peopel, but you are paying directly for a positive experience.

With Dairy Queen you are paying for an “edible”supstance and it is your choise if you also want to have fun.

[normal-thoughts-official]

Makoto plot line by Lêx?

thank you for this totally 100% spontaneous ask that you sent of your own free will, anon!

okay, so here's the thing. i dont like makoto. not really. he's annoying af and basically useless. bitch does nothing but hide behind haru cuz he's scared of everything and be blushy and soft in that spineless way, you know? like he just lets everyone push him around and treats everyone in such an unfuriatingly uniform, fake-cheery, ultra helpful way that it's his whole personality

but here's the thing! it gets sad. you know? especially considering how he, like, seems to basically live to enable haru? in all the worst ways. like it's nice of course that he helps haru with his depression but there's a point when it becomes enabling and that point is when makoto is running after haru all the time trying to solve his messes, remind him of his own damn responsibilities, and basically take care of haru's whole life so he doesn't have to. again, helping is good, but by worrying about the things haru doesn't worry about and preventing him from facing the consequences of not doing anything basically lmao he enables haru to never fucking get out of his constant stupor. also, as previously said, he's spineless, which means that he never truly goes against haru's wishes. so like. enabler. bad

which is my main beef with makoharu, which is actually the most popular ship in the fandom because ppl have no taste and also dont know how to interpret shit. tho tbh even makoharu shippers are like "i ship makoharu because makoto deserves to be happy and he wants haru!" so even they acknowledge that.... haru isn't into him lmao. but anyway

point is: they pull each other back. im not gonna say it's abusive or something cuz i don't think it is, i wouldn't even call it toxic, but it's stale in the worst kind of way. makoto enables not only haruka's depression, but also his self destructive and to some extent relationships destructive behavior, setting his growth back. and makoto lives and exists to take care of haru. he has no dreams, no goals, hell, not even INTERESTS. his whole thing is just. haru. where haru goes, he follows. and. that's it basically

which is why the fact that so many makoto stans ship makoharu is also baffling to me, because if i were a makoto fan, i'd probably hate haru, lmao. i mean, makoto is going around doing all this work for him, plus emotional labor, and haru never gives him much back really. and it's obvious that haru doesn't like makoto the same way makoto likes him, but makoto is just out there taking whatever scraps he can get, and haru just sort of. probably doesn't even notice cuz that's been their dynamic since they were kids. and makoto knows that, too. so like. if i stanned makoto. id fucking hate haru for that tbh

and honestly it's bad writing because i think the writers couldn't care less about makoto lmao and also didn't know what to do with him, which i think becomes increasingly obvious as seasons go by and he's just sort of. there. they tried to give him his own plotlines and even dreams but it never stuck. he feels like a doll most of the time. even in s1, which was widely rinharu-focused and barely had any other characters have real plotlines unless you count the one (1) episode where they try to teach rei how to swim, makoto was particularly uninteresting and underexplored and developed. like, the other characters might not have had huge importance but at least they had personalities. makoto didn't, really, unless you count "mama henning haru" and "being uwu" as a personality

but my point is: what if makoto got some real writing? what if we explored his character, and his relationship with haru, in a more critical, dimensional way?

makoto is in love with haru, i think that's indisputable. haru isn't in love with makoto, which i also think is indisputable. makoto himself knows that what haru has with rin is special and beyond what makoto and haru have, he says that, he even says that he was jealous of rin. yet he stays. even when rin comes back, and haru and rin become friends again, and it's obvious they're going to be together, makoto stays. he takes care of haru, which is some pretty damn stressful work, and does all this emotional labor for him, and haru barely gives him, like, a smile every once in a while, lmao, and again it's sad. but makoto stays. and - that's an important part to me - it doesn't seem to be because he has any hopes that haru will come around. so why

i think they're stuck in a loop, and that makoto has been in love with haru, and being not only his emotional support, but basically the one thread connecting him with the outside world (while simultaneously enabling him to continue as detached from it as he can, because he's not bringing haru out to the world, he's bringing the world to accommodate haru) for so long, he doesn't really know what else to do. also, he feels guilty about leaving haru to his own devices, even if obviously there's nothing he can do if haru won't help himself. also, he's scared of losing him, because he's been defining himself for his relationship with haru for so long, he doesn't know where else to go

i think that's supported by his relationship with other characters. like i said, makoto is annoyingly kind to everyone (if im not mistaken, the name makoto actually does mean kind) and a MASSIVE pushover. he never goes against anyone's wishes. he never really throws in what he wants. he doesn't really interfere with anyone's plans and ideas, he just sorta makes it happen. he is never annoyed, never has any quirks, is never even like, tired, you know? he lives to please other people, to the point where he has no personality, interests, or wishes beyond that

so, yeah: i think makoto is scared that, if he doesn't please other people, there's nothing else left for him. and in a way, he is right, because i don't think he would know what to do with himself if he had to look into himself and figure out what he wants out of life. so it's easier to follow others and dedicate himself to them. also, fear of loneliness is very valid, even if i dont think any of his friends would actually leave him if he weren't being their damn mom all the time. but they also let it happen, especially haru, because it's convenient, and again, homeboy barely has the energy to go to school, much less help makoto unpack all of that

but if i were writing free!, id want to explore that, because it has so much potential to be a pretty damn rich story, actually. especially as the story progresses, because one effect of rin being back and haru running the whole swimming club and trying to prepare for their race is that haru needs makoto less and less as time goes by. because he has a motivation. he cares about his grades because if he doesn't keep them up he won't be allowed to keep working in the swimming club, he cares about teaching the newbie (the rei i mentioned before) how to swim because otherwise they won't be able to run against rin in the medley race, hell, he reforms the whole entire pool that was abandoned so they have a place to train (with help, but like, he couldnt be bothered with getting up to school before). he even goes back to drawing so he can make pamphlets to attract more people to the club

and then he finds his love for swimming again, especially as a team, competitively. he finds his love for people again, for human interaction, for competition and the thrill of the sport he loves. haru finds his motivation, and he starts putting his life back on track and working towards his goals, and haru is damn capable. and that means that makoto has a lot of free time in his hands now, and haru is slipping through them, and he knows he can't really keep their relationship as he was. and he shouldn't, honestly, and i think that he's, at least, smart enough to know this

and he has a crisis, because again, he's been defining himself through haru for the longest goddamn time, im talking all the way from middle to high school here. and he doesn't know who he is. he doesn't know what he wants. he barely knows what he likes

but he's not alone either, because again, makoto is haru's best friend, and haru does like him and it's not like he's all "i found my purpose with rin now. peace out". his journey was also about finding his whole support system with his friends. through relearning how to swim in a team, he also relearned human connection and friendship. that's one of the many beauties of rinharu. they inspired each other to make their lives better, including in ways that have nothing to do with each other, and they weren't even trying to

so he has haru, but in a now radically different dynamic, and also rei and nagisa (his teammates) and gou (rin's sister and also their trainer) (rin and gou don't go to the same school for some reason). and everyone is going through a similar crisis, because it's the last year of high school. rin obviously has known that he wants to be an athlete since he was a kid, but everyone else's plans are kinda sketchy. makoto just happens to have some extra flavor in that mission - he's not just trying to figure out what he wants to do, but who he is

and fuck if i know how that would develop from there, but id really love to see makoto finding himself, honestly. i want to see his issues being addressed. the only backstory we have for him is that he's afraid of the ocean because he almost drowned at some point? i dont remember. i want to know why the fuck he's been repressing his own needs and personality so hard. i want to know what had him so scared of the world that it was easier to forget about himself and basically live through haru. i want to know what he's going to do to find himself, and the very, very painful journey of looking at himself and his own needs, and, in many ways, his own emptiness, because makoto essentially carved himself hollow. i want makoto to have dimension and depth, and be relatable and not just a dumb shell of uwuness for ppl to swoon over and want to protecc, not even because i like him, but because it could be so interesting. and relatable in so many ways. like, god damn it. if you wanna make him one of the main characters, give him a real plotline!

and i want to see him finding out that his life is better when he's a little more detached from haru and not living in an endless pursuit of a relationship, but having a network of people he loves and that has mutual support. i want to see him getting over haru, not so he can have some other romance with someone else, but so he can grow. makoto basically doesn't grow at all the whole show, and it's sad to watch, especially as everyone else grows so much