#i wrote a little too much for my critical and just enough for my personal

[moonandstarshyuck]

"Always."

lando norris x gn!bf!reader

notes: I haven’t written since 2019, so bear with me. I’ve found myself thinking about a little blurb for Lando recently (actually a lot of ideas, but this one is sticking with me more than the others at the moment).

For some context, Lando’s been receiving a huge amount of hate online (and in-person) recently. I haven’t been a fan for that long—I got into F1 this summer, in 2024—but I’ve grown to care about him. I was there for Lando losing the championship, and while I think we all knew it would come to this (Max winning felt inevitable) but I’m proud of Lando for pushing so hard this entire year.

Still, with all the hate directed at him, I’m seeing a new side of him, and I’m learning that he’s a person with feelings like anyone else. I can tell he doesn’t always have the highest opinion of himself and tends to take the blame for anything that goes wrong during his races. What struck me about this is how much I relate to it. I blame myself for things out of my control or when I mess up. What sucks with Lando is that his small, human errors are what so many people focus on to criticize him—whether it’s why he didn’t win the championship or why they think he’s a bad person (which he absolutely isn’t).

The inspiration for this came from an interview he did after the Brazilian GP. At that point, everyone knew it was almost mathematically impossible for Lando to win the championship, and he talked about struggling in the aftermath: “I literally couldn’t sleep for the first two days…So I did like, what, 36-40 hours straight. So that probably made everything worse. When you’re tired, you’re more moody, and that kind of thing…I was just sat at home alone. It probably would have been better if I had been with my friends. But they don’t live in Monaco. They also have lives and are busy doing other things. And I’m a big overthinker, so like the whole flight home, the whole week, it just played over and over in my head. What could I have done differently? Why did I do that? Why did I not do this? You start thinking of all the scenarios that you kind of blame yourself for, why it’s now not possible, that kind of thing. And yeah, because I overthink and I struggle with that kind of thing, that took a bigger toll in the days after. It wasn’t an easy time.”

And I keep on finding myself wishing someone could have been there for him in person, so that he was okay. So, I wrote this. The reader in this is dating Lando but is written as a gender-neutral character that uses They/Them pronouns. The reader also has a service dog, a Bernese Mountain Dog named Thunder, to help with their own depression and anxiety (I’m not an expert on service dogs, so this many not be 100% accurate).

They woke up that early morning to the sunlight shining on their face, streaming in from the window outside. The bliss of sleep clung to them as they lay there, cocooned in warmth, the covers snug around their body. They stretched lazily, blinking their eyes open.

Instinctively, they turned to look beside them—only to find the space next to them empty. It’s too early in the morning to be anywhere else but in bed, even for training, they thought. Lando should still be here.

The realization pulled them out of their sleepy haze. The past couple of days had been not kind to Lando. They knew that he had a tendency to keep his feelings bottled up and beat himself up over his perceived failures. They understood that feeling all too well—the guilt, the constant sense of disappointment, the nagging thought that were never good enough. They had wrestled with those feelings since they were a child.

It wasn’t something that had an easy fix. If they had found the answer, they would have shared it with Lando years ago. But they had learned that the best way to fight those thoughts wasn’t isolation. Talking to someone, writing feelings down, even simple positive affirmations—thought they might sound silly—could help push back against the negative spiral. They had told Lando this countless times.

But Lando had a problem with not wanting to “inconvenience” anyone with his emotions. No matter how many times they reassured him that they were always there for him, he struggled to let himself. They didn’t blame him—it was human to struggle against your own mind.

What made everything worse was the constant online hate. Every little mistake or sarcastic comment from Lando seemed to turn into an avalanche of criticism. They remembered the first time they’d seen him like a hateful comment about himself on Instagram—the little heart next to a cruel statement, paired with note: “Creator liked this.” It had broken their heart. How could the Lando they loved ever believe such awful things about himself?

After Brazil, it had been clear that he wasn’t okay. He’d barely spoken since coming home, choosing instead to himself. They had given him space, hoping he’d find a way to process his feelings. But by the second morning, when he still hadn’t come to bed—almost forty hours after returning home—they knew they couldn’t stand by any longer.

That morning, they rose slowly from the bed, a plan beginning to form in their mind. Lanod needed someone to step in—someone to remind him he didn’t have to face his struggles alone. They were determined to be that person for him.  They couldn’t take it anymore, seeing the person they loved so badly, punishing himself over his ‘failures.’

The first step was to confirm where he was. Grabbing their phone, they opened Twitch and navigated to Max’s stream. After a few moments of watching, they heard Lando’s voice—tired, strained, but unmistakably his. He was joking with Max, his words clipped, like he was holding himself together with sheer willpower. It was enough to break their heart. They opened their messages with Max.

Thunder's Owner

Lan’s streaming with you rn?

Sent at 7:48 AM.

After a few seconds, Max replied.

Maximilian

Yeah he’s on voice-only.

Sent at 7:50 AM.

Gonna do something about him?

Sent at 7:50 AM.

Max knew. Of course he did. He probably heard the exhaustion in Lando’s voice, the edge self-loathing that came with overthinking. They typed back quickly:

Thunder's Owner

Yeah

Sent 7:52 AM.

Going to unplug his setup and drag him out of there.

Sent 7:52 AM.

Maximilian

Lol.

Sent 7:52 AM.

I’ll keep an eye out for when he disappears.

Sent 7:53 AM.

Thunder's Owner

Thx

Sent 7:54 AM.

They quietly made their way to Lando’s gaming room and eased the door open. Lando sat at his desk, controller in hand, headset clamped over messy curls.  He looked worn down, his shoulders slumped as he focused on the screen. His voice through, muted put playful, as he bantered with Max.

For a moment, they just watched him. Even now, he was handsome, but the tiredness in his expression made their chest ache. He deserved rest. He deserved to feel okay. And he wasn’t going to get that by sitting here punishing himself.

As soon as Lando died in-game and leaned back in his chair, they seized the opportunity. They crossed the room, catching his attention when they came into view.

“Why’re you—” Lando began, frowning, but they didn’t let him finish. Reaching down, they unplugged everything from the wall.

“What the hell—” he exclaimed, spinning around in his chair.

“No,” they said firmly, cutting him off. “I’m not you hurt yourself anymore. Get up.”

Lando blinked, clearly taken aback. “You can’t just do that!” he protested, but they were already tugging gently at him arm, urging him out of his chair.

“Angel, what are you—”

“No,” they repeated, their voice steady. “Get up,”

Lando hesitated for a moment before letting out a resigned sigh and standing. They took his hand, leading him out of the gaming room and down the hall to the living room. He didn’t resist, but he followed like a man in a daze. Once they reached the couch, they turned to him. “Sit,” they said, pointing at the cushions. Lando raised an eyebrow, opening his mouth to argue, but they shook their head. “Stay.”

They turned to Thunder, who had been waiting for them in the hallway, and told him, “Thunder, guard,” while pointing at Lando.

The dog immediately moved into position, standing alert in front of the couch. Lando’s eyes widened slightly as Thunder fixed him with an unblinking stare. He shifted as if to get up, but Thunder’s stance didn’t waver.

“Jeez, I wasn’t going to get up,” he mumbled to Thunder, but Thunder just sat there and watched him until he fully relaxed back into the couch.

The thought ran through Lando’s head, how he had honestly forgotten how menacing his own dog could look. He knew Thunder was trained, saw reminders of it daily with how he interacted with his partner, but he was still shocked at how trained Thunder really was at that moment.

Thunder was still staring at him when he pulled out his phone from his pocket, opening up his texts with Max.

LN

I was just dragged out of my gaming room and told to sit on the couch and like a dog.

Sent at 8:05 AM.

Not against it, but how tf did they get so determined?

Sent at 8:05 AM.

Thunder’s watching me right now.

Sent at 8:06 AM.

I forgot how menacing he could be.

Sent at 8:06 AM.

*Picture attached.*

Lol.

Sent at 8:06 AM.

Max (The 1st One)

He’s like ‘try me, I dare you’

Sent at 8:06 AM.

LN

Yeah, I don’t particularly want to try him

Sent at 8:07 AM.

Max (The 1st One)

Lol.

Sent at 8:07 AM.

They told me before they did it

Sent at 8:07 AM.

I just let them. Lol.

Sent at 8:07 AM.

LN

Helpful. What if they were trying to  kill me?

Sent at 8:08 AM.

They wouldn’t have had to if you kept doing what you were doing.

Sent at 8:09 AM.

Lando’s let out a quiet sigh, Max’s words sinking in. He glanced at Thunder, who hadn’t moved, and felt a pang of guilt. He’d pushed himself too far again, and this time it had clearly worried his partner.

A few minutes later, his partner walked back into their living room. He thought they looked beautiful, wearing one of his old t-shirts and a pair of boxers. They were entirely focused on the bowl they were carrying, and only looked up when they got close enough to hand it to him. He gently took the bowl, looked into it and saw it was one of his prep meals. While not his favorite breakfast, he knew he just needed to eat first, so he started taking bites.

He glanced up every so often, and each time he did, his partner was just sitting there and watching him eat. Lando almost chuckled at his own thought that they looked just like Thunder when watching him, and he smiled into his bowl at the thought. His partner didn’t see his smile, but he continued to eat until he had finished the bowl.

When he was done eating, he set the bowl down, and his partner again pulled him up by the crook of his arm. He just let them do so, having a thought of what was going to happen next.

His partner led them both down the hallway to their bedroom, and opened the door, leading him to sit on their bed, then they turned around and went to close their blinds and draw their black-out curtains to cover up the sunlight from the window. They had turned on their bedside lamp earlier, and the soft orange glow of the lamp permeated the room. They walked past him again, going to close the door after letting Thunder in, then they walked back to their side of the bed, and pulled him to lie down against them.

As he settled against their chest, he felt a bit odd, it being a bit of a difference to feel how much he was loved by them. How much they cared for him. And he finally spoke again, “Thank you.”

“Always, Lan. Always.” They replied, pressing a kiss to his hair.

And for the first time in days, he let himself sleep.

author's note: got inspired to actually write something for once...ty @koalapastries for the inspiration (unknowing inspiration but ty) (also sorry for using your layout outline

comments & reblogs appreciated

and i made the dividers :)

[welcome-to-the-cattle-dome]

28/50 on the written part of my english diploma huh.       [hysterical sobbing]

anyways back 2 cats ig i think that bombalurina lives up to her name just a bit literally and is one of the cats who teaches the kittens ballet-esk moves . she’s got the power she’s got the means

[storywestistrash]

i am actually so tired of the way westerners treat eastern europeans

[miley1442111]

the problem with arguing

a/n: Hi, this is my first story, any constructive criticism is welcomed. This had not been properly edited nor read through because icba lmao :) also I wrote it for a fem!reader but I don't think there's much mention other than Jack calling reader 'mom' so... yeah :)

pairings: aaron hotchner x reader, platonic BAUteam x reader, motherly(If that's a word?)reader x teen!jack hotchner

summary: aaron and you are in a fight, but what happens when a meeting with a witness goes south?

warnings: criminal minds levels of violence, angst, fluff, couple fighting, reader in distress, reader getting injured, mentions of knives, mentions of being stabbed, mentions of being tied up, mentions of hospitals, mentions of killing, mentions of general injury, mentions of guns/shooting, minimal use of y/n.

1.6k + words.

“We’re here, we’ll update you if anything comes of it,” Morgan promises Hotch over the phone as we walk to the front porch of one of our witnesses. Something about his story is messed up and we were the unlucky ones who had to go talk to him. It’s a pretty house I guess, a little expensive for what a 26 year old man could afford, and what he would want to buy. It’s all fifties style, the entire estate is. Big-enough bungalows with pastel walls and inviting doors with a small porch, just enough for the entry-way and a chair. I knock on the door, exhausted from the past 72 hours. Aaron and I got in a fight before we got to Ohio, it was unnecessary, but we fought all the same. He was mad at me for giving Jack advice that led to a fight between them. I just wanted to kiss and make up 3 days ago but he won’t budge. Maybe it’s because he knows I’m right and doesn’t want to confront it or maybe it’s because I took it too far and overstepped. Jack calls me ‘mom’, I live with him, and Jack came to me for support, he wanted guidance and I gave him it. He was mad at his dad because he missed meeting his girlfriend. His girlfriend, Ava, was a lovely girl, I had been the one there when Jack brought her over for dinner, I was the one trying to suss out if they actually liked each other, and I was the one Jack sat down with for 2 hours after and told everything about her to. All because Aaron was too busy with paperwork in his study. Jack was hurt, which is difficult to do because he’s such an understanding 16 year-old boy. It was also hard because I saw both sides. I’ll be the first to admit that what Aaron did was wrong, but our job is hard and demanding, especially his since he’s the leader of our team… But Jack just wanted 2 hours of his time, not even, just a dinner. A dinner to meet his girlfriend, and Aaron still couldn’t make it. 

I knock again as I huff. 

“Everything alright?” Morgan asks, the regular playful glint in his eye. 

“Tired, mad, over this job. You?” I sigh. 

“Sounds about right,” He chuckles. “How’s Jack doing?” 

A smile spreads across my face. “He has a girlfriend,” Morgan’s face lights up in a smile. 

“My man,” He smirks and I chuckle. “You two met her yet?” 

My face drops again. “I have, Aaron… couldn’t make it to the dinner though. She’s lovely, perfect for Jack. It's so funny, it’s just opposites attract. Jack is so sporty and outspoken and she’s one of the quieter, more into her studies kind of person.” 

The door swings open and we’re met with David, our witness. 

“You two know what time it is?” He yawns. 

“Oh trust us, we know,” Morgan sighs. “Can we ask you a few more questions?” 

“It’s 10pm at night? Can’t this wait ‘till the morning?”

“It’ll only take a few minutes,” I reassure. 

He looks between us for a moment, then sighs. “Quickly.”

We walk inside and are immediately hit with an awful smell. I know that smell. That’s when I see it, a body.

And that’s when it all goes black. 

I wake up in a new room, tied to a chair. I don’t see Derrick anywhere. I don’t see David anywhere. I’m all alone in this grey room. I don’t see a door but I notice a camera, and a screen in front of me. I see Penelope on the screen, then a sign above it with “Don’t make noise” scribbled. I look to my left and see a plastic window, I see Morgan through it, tied up too. He sees me. 

“Y/n? Y/n?! Where are you?” Penelope squeals. I shake my head and she picks up her phone and tries calling mine, it rings and I feel something go into my side. I scream out in pain as I see the blood start trickling out of me. Penelope drops her phone, then picks it up, dialling someone else’s number. 

I get switched to a joint call with Penelope, and the rest of the team, excluding Aaron. 

“Y/n?” Spencer asks and I nod, sobbing in pain. Spencer runs off-screen, leaving Jj and Emily to stare in horror at me.

Spencer comes back with Aaron and we make eye-contact through the screen, and he starts breaking. He’s shouting orders at the policemen in the precinct, he’s shouting orders at the team, and he’s trying not to cry. I know that. I also know I’m the only one who knows that. He hides it pretty well but not from me, not after all of our years together. His eyes squint, his eyebrows furrow more than usual, he starts biting at the skin around his nails. 

“We’re coming to find you. We will find you,” he promises me. I nod slowly as the pain in my side becomes unbearable as the knife is pulled out. 

“Is Morgan with you?” Emily asks and I nod as I bite my lip until it bleeds to stop myself from making too much noise. 

“Is he in the room with you?” Spencer asks. 

I shake my head no. After what feels like an eternity of yes or no questions, they think they’ve located us.I hear banging on the door and then it opens. Spencer is standing there with an entire Swat team behind him. I shake my head to tell them to not make noise but they talk anyway and another knife is put into my leg, I don’t have the strength to stay quiet this time and another finds its way into my arm. I pass out. 

I wake up in a hospital bed, an IV in my arm, Aaron on one side and Jack on the other. Aaron’s asleep in a chair on my left, I grimace, knowing his back will hurt. 

“Mom?!” Jack exclaims as he sees me open my eyes. “Mom!” His eyes fill with tears as he gets up and wraps his arms around me on the bed. 

“Jack,” I sigh in relief. 

“You’re okay! You’re awake!” He smiles brightly, happy that I’m alive. 

Aaron wakes up from the commotion and rushes to my side. “Honey?” He takes my hand and squeezes. “You’re okay.”

I smile at both of them. 

“I’ll go get the doctor,” Jack smiles and he rushes off to find a doctor. 

“Honey I’m so sorry I shouldn’t have-” He starts but I cut him off. 

“I love you.” 

“I love you too,” he sighs, tears welling up in his eyes.

“Don’t go all soft now Aaron,” I joke. 

“You make me soft,” He smiles and presses a soft kiss to my cheek. 

Jack comes back in with a doctor. She tells me that I lost a lot of blood and that I will be out of the field for a few months, with 2 weeks of mandatory bedrest, then 4 weeks of physical therapy. 

The next day, the team come in to visit. 

“Hey,” Spencer smiles, walking in first. I’ve always been close to Spencer, he’s always felt like a little brother to me. 

“Hey,” I smile and wince when I hug him, but I know it’s worth it. The rest of the team filter in, smiles on their faces.“So what happened after I went out?”

“Well, they got me, no injuries apart from a concussion,” Morgan says. 

“We got the guy-” Emily starts.

“Aaron got the guy,” Spencer interrupts. “He saw him and just shot him-”

“And then he beat the crap out of him,” Jj says. “It was pretty intense.”

I nod along as they tell me the story, and then we just talk about whatever until Aaron comes in and says visiting hours are over. Spencer leaves me a few more books to read and Jj brings Jack to Ava’s house for the night. Aaron walks in with my dinner on a tray. 

“Hungry?” He smiles. 

“You shot someone for me?” I ask as he places my tray down.

“Yes.”

I roll my eyes and smile at him. “Is he alive?”

“No.” 

My face drops. “Oh.” 

“It was the combined bleeding and head trauma that killed him.”

“You shouldn’t have done that.”

“I did.” 

I look at my food. “I understand you wanted to protect me-”

“I did that because he doesn’t get to live after doing this to you. Honey, you and Jack are the most important people in my life and I would do anything if it meant that you were safe and sound. Do you want to know how it felt to have what could’ve been my last words to you be ‘stop bothering me’? I was an asshole to you over the Jack situation because I knew you were right. I knew it wasn’t fair to not go to dinner when I was in the house. I knew it was important and it just felt too real. It felt like he was growing up and I just couldn’t take it because I missed so much of his childhood! So I’m sorry, I’m so so sorry that I said everything I said and did what I did, but I am not sorry about hurting that fucking monster,” He takes a deep breath. “Now eat up, it’ll go cold.”

“I love you Aaron, it’s ok. It wasn’t your fault, being a parents is hard.” 

His eyes fill with tears and he looks at me like an injured puppy. 

“Come here,” I smile and move over, allowing room for him to sit with me. He climbs into bed beside me and wraps his arms around me, being careful of my wounds. 

“I love you,” he whispers as I slowly eat my food. 

“I love you too.”

[mrsmiseryxo]

Behind Closed Doors

homelander x assistant! reader

🎧 Behind Closed Doors- Lana Del Rey

Disclaimer: This is finally done after two months, i first started this when the season came out. I don't know anything about the corporate world. I made up things as I went along :3 im sorry :( Also my first time writing fanfic and first time creative writing in a while, so I am a bit rusty be nice please :3 I wrote this as a challenge to myself , so i hope its not too bad. Constructive criticism welcome :)

around 3-4k words i lost count

this is so secretary ( 2002) coded

Tags: dom!Homelander Fem! Girly! Reader. praise kink, body worship, p in v, fingering, cmnf, homelander is soft for reader. creampie, breeding kink, daddy nickname used. homelander and reader are horny weirdos. I'm bad at tagging hopefully i'll be better :(

Set between seasons 3-4 but i didn't watch gen v oops

You transcribe the meetings for Vought, and you feel like you don’t get the recognition that you deserve. That is until Homelander calls for a private meeting. 

You were quiet and meek, like a little mouse. He viewed you exactly like that. A rodent to be exterminated. Squashed. He’ll have a word with whoever was in charge of hiring you. Even more of a word if it was Ashley. In your eyes, he could never hide the utter disdain on his face whenever he got a waft of your sweet, vanilla rose scent as you . He thought you represented everything wrong with humans. Your head was always hung low, you always stared at your shoes as you brought Ashley the notes for this week’s meeting. How dare you not look in his eyes? How can someone as stupid as you ever be trusted with confidential information about the company?

He absolutely hated everything about you. Your prissy nature, the way you only drank matcha lattes with soy milk. He turned his nose at that poor excuse of a milk option. He smelled that bullshit from a mile away. He hated the gloss on your lips. He hated the sparkle in your eyes, like you still had a lot of life to look forward to. He hated that hopeful mentality you held, following the philosophy that life was going to get better. He simultaneously hated and loved the way you cowered in his presence, the way your hands get sweaty and clutch at your skirt. He loved and hated the fact that you couldn’t hold eye contact with him. On top of all that, Homelander hated the way you made his dick twitch.

Even as you stumble around with a slight hunchback, he couldn’t keep thoughts of peeling off your tights and bending you over the table where meetings were held. How breathless and cute your pathetic moans would be. How he would make you speak up and ask for what you truly want. He wondered what your lip gloss would taste like. How soft your plush ass would feel as he caresses it. Even considering your horrible posture, something as small as your scent is enough to turn him on.

When homelander would retire to his apartment, he would drink a pint of milk and jerk off. That was his nightly routine for the last couple of years. He would think about Madelyn Stillwell, Stormfront, and if he was feeling especially normal, he would think about Queen Maeve. After a week of you working at Vought, his jerk off material had changed. He began thinking about you. A lot. You had dominated his brain, and this irritated the hell out of Homelander. He had never given this much thought to another person before. Mundane and ordinary things had popped into his brain. What did you eat for breakfast? What side of the bed do you sleep on? As much as he tried thoughts of you out of his head, they always came back with a vengeance. Just your entire existence bugged Homelander, but he got used to seeing you in the conference room, even looked forward to the weekly meetings if it meant he got to see you. He’d notice that his presence would have an embarrassing effect on you. Of course, he would have a certain effect on just about everyone that he encountered, but he relished in the fact that you would get so flustered when in the same vicinity of each other. He would then think of ways to get you worked out, he wanted to tease you just enough to coax you. He’d knew the type of girl you were, you thrived under words of praise. Homelander also knew that you’d be obedient enough to never say anything. He’d make you fear him, more than you already do. He wanted to make the desire to please stronger.

After the first month of your newfound employment at Vought, you wondered why anyone would put up with Homelander and the Seven’s antics. You pride yourself on your obedience and dedication. Why could nobody acknowledge the sea of tears shed over copious hours of overtime, and the perfection you put into shooting out emails everyday, keeping people on track. You even schedule the time the emails are to be put out. You know deep down you will never say anything, or even hint at the maltreatment and neglect that you recieve. You want to remain hopeful that this is just a rough patch, and as you get more acclimated to the company you won’t feel this way, they won’t treat you this way.

You wake up at 5:30 to face the day. 30 minute shower, a five step skin routine, and light makeup routine. You were told to always look your best when first hired. Vought has an image to maintain, and their employees should reflect that ( which only really applies to female employees).

While in the shower, you contemplate your life. You’re proud of yourself and what you have accomplished so far, but sticking to the Vought job is insane. It’s insane because you have a crush on your boss. Arguably the most famous and powerful man in America, or even the entire world. You know he's not a good person, but you wouldn’t mind being at his beck and call. God, it was pathetic how you imagine him grunting in your ear for you to take it. You try to move past these thoughts for the betterment of your life.

You are the first to arrive to the meeting room. You set up your space, placing your laptop, a notebook with strawberry pattern on it, and your matcha latte with soymilk.

As the supes settle in, you get ready to write. This week’s meeting was about searching for another member of the seven, or to speak truthfully, find a new black noir. You are clueless to how The Seven found itself without a Black Noir, but you know it is in your best interest to never ask questions. Of course, like the queen of England, Homelander is the last to arrive. Homelander strides in greeting everyone.

“ Mmm can’t wait for the bullshit we talk about today,” He rolls his eyes. You notice his tone even more irritated today. Homelander walks over to the front of the table and sits. Everyone waits for him to speak, for him to start the meeting. As you write the date on the top of your paper, you hear him clear his throat.

As you look up, he says your name. How does he even know your name? He couldn’t give less of a shit at anyone at this table, especially you.

“Can I speak to you at the end of the meeting? Alone of course. We wouldn’t want any of these morons listening in”

“ Oh. Yeah, of course!” You stutter a bit. You give him a small smile. He gives you his signature fake smile back. You know that look all too well. You recognize that that look is basically the middle finger. That highly calculated smile hides the disgust he feels for everyone around him at any given time. All the while, you are caught off guard by his words. Being alone in a room with any man would make you anxious, but being the only woman in the room with Homelander makes you nauseous. To say you are absolutely mortified would be an understatement.

Everyone in the room gives you a side eye. Ashley looks like she might pull out a gun and shoot you. She knows she’ll never hear the end of it. After all, she did hire you.

The rest of the meeting goes as smoothly as it could. Some dumb remarks were made by The Deep, but it could have been worse. You didn’t pay much attention during this meeting, as you were in your head about what this private session with Homelander would entail. Homelander senses your heartrate going up. He can practically hear the blood rushing through your veins. His hand quietly goes to grab and rub his bulge. He thinks of you on your knees, him grabbing your hair as you rub your face against his crotch with your hands on his thighs, looking up at him with adoration in your eyes. He brings his hands up and bangs the table.

“ Ok, I think we’re all done here,’’ He gives instructions to the Deep and Ashley to scout for the new Black Noir while A-Train shoots his movie. You write the details of the meeting in your notebook.

Everyone gets out of their chair and leaves, Ashley gives you a death stare. You feel faint, and your legs try to gather courage to walk toward Homelander.

“ Shut the door behind you, will you buddy” Deep closes the door, and you two are left alone at last.

Homelander slowly strides toward you with his hands behind his back. Like a deer in headlights , you were paraylzed with fear, you could not move. He softly grabs your chin. He sees the fear in your eyes.

“ Hey, you’re not in trouble. I can see the hairs on your arm standing up. It’s fine. You’re not in trouble.” He reassures you, eliminating the worst case scenario your brain. You breath a breathe of relief. You look at Homelander’s boots, still afraid to look him in the eye.

He gives a slight chuckle. “ I’m not going to laser you, ya know. Um, actually I asked you to stay because I realized something.” He places his hands on your shoulders, you finally look up. He is towering over you. You can see the absence of his pores on his face. He truly is perfect, which makes his presence even more intoxicating. Your head feels dizzy from both the fear and his course fingertips on your shoulders.

“ You’ve been here for a good while. I know that you think that you’ve gone unnoticed. But trust that that could not be further from the case.” He sighed. “ To be quite honest with you sweetheart, you’ve been too much of a distraction around here. Your short little skirts are killing me.” Homelander laughs. He imagined his hands hiking up your skirt all of the time. He toys with your hair as you cannot believe that this is happening. His hands travel to your neck as you can smell the mintiness of his breath. He places soft sweet kisses on the tip of your ear as you let out a whimper.

“ I know you wanted me like this.  Ya think I don’t know why you try so hard? You want to get my attention. Think of this as a reward, yeah?” Your knees buck. The pit of desire in your stomach is getting bigger, and you're aching for more of his touch.

“ I need you to look at me” He says in his stern voice. “ And I need you to respond when I’m talking to you, kay? Sit on the table for me.”

You nod your head. A light tap of his hand kisses your left cheek.

“ Use your words, doll.” Homelander whispers and looks at you tentatively.

“oh okay” you stutter and stammer.

He impatiently unbuttons your shirt, practically tearing it open, and quickly undoing the claps of your pretty pink bra ( which you wore everyday, holding onto hope he would one day see it) clumsily breaking a clasp in the process.

“ I’ll get you a new one, its fine” Your mouth opens in a slight gasp.

His tender, soft, touch full of need finds the softness of your breasts, as he bends down to delicately pinch your nipples, hard, from the building's chill and the unfamiliar feel of his leather gloves. He bites his lips, resisting the urge to come right then and there. He lightly sets you on your back, legs dangling off the table. He looms over your view. The blonde man begins to suckle on your breast, massaging the other. His lips leave soft marks all over your tits as he rotates his hands and his lips.

“ Oh god, you feel so fucking good, sweetheart, your tits feel amazing” You let out a mewl as your pussy clenches. Filthy sounds of Homelander lapping at your tits and soft cries escaping your mouth fill the room. He lightly nibbles your nipple. In a fleeting moment of bravery, you give Homelander a request.

"Mmm want you inside"

“Not yet honey. Needa prep you first, know you can’t handle it right now. ” He unzips your skirt and throws it across the room. Your tights were thigh high, so he didn’t have to take them off like he would have liked. He looks almost animalistic as he crouches down to level with your cunt. He rubs his gloved hands up and down your bare thighs, as he inhaled the scent of your clothed pussy. You run your hands through his soft, blonde hair, thinking about how how heaven feels.

He murmurs into your pussy, “ you’re fucking soaked and i barely touched you”

His nose brushes with your clit. Catching wind of your squirming and quiet mumbles, Homelander purposely moves his nose in a circle while he maintains eye contact with you. A strong hold of his hands is on your hips, trying to contain the buildup of your pleasure. His rhythmic movement works your way toward an orgasm, and as you get higher and higher, almost reaching your peak, he moves away, toward your mouth, embracing your tongue, biting your lip softly, as your lips sloppily crashed into each other. He sat you back up as his arms moved up and down your back. Anger quickly left your body as quickly it came, you couldn’t be mad at his denial when you inhaled his fresh linen and sandalwood scent.

He breaks away from your lips .“I want you to cum on my cock, so im just gonna make you nice and wet for now, sound good?” You look into his of course that sounded good, but something felt off.

“ mmkay homelander” you mumble, feeling a bit odd and disconnected suddenly. You don’t want to call him that, his nose was in your pussy, his tongue all over your chest, it felt wrong to call him homelander. Sensing this, he does the unthinkable.

“ call me john” he mutters under his breath, almost inaudible. you grin at him.

“ mmkay john!” God. your squeal and positive attitude made his cock even harder, which he didn’t think possible. You relax a bit more, as this was a sign of him opening up.

He slowly wiggles you out of your panties, as you giggle. Leaving you fully naked, Homelander basks in the sight of you, ready and pliant for him. 

“ Yeah, what’s so funny” Homelander smiles at you. 

“ hmm. Dunno. You’re just so…” you trail off at the end of your sentence.

As you’re responding to his question, Homelander slips a finger inside you. You let out a cry, slightly rolling your head back.

“ Im so what sweetheart, finish your sentence” He grabs you by your neck, demanding a deep sloppy kiss, whilst adding another finger in your pussy, plunging deep in and out of your slick folds. He curls two fingers up,

‘So..mmph..good, feels good, john” 

“ Mmm yeah I know honey, I know ”  He coos, mockingly in between kisses. He worked his fingers until your breaths became ragged, squirming and quivering under his touch. 

“ You’re so fucking wet, baby” He grunts while you moan as John scissors his fingers in and out of your slick pussy. He moves his fingers, moving them into circles on your clit.

“Im gonna cum, please!” You plea for him to keep going, faster.

“ Ah ah ah, no i don’t think so. going do it on my dick remember?” He pulls his fingers out of your wet warmth, drags his tongue up and down his fingers.

He moans as he sucks on his own fingers, you look up at john with utter adoration.

“you taste so good mmph” Your tongues intertwine, lapping filthy at one another. He bits your earlobes while his hands lazily fidget with your nipples.

He then brings the bottom of his suit to his knees, cock swinging out. It’s egregiously thick. His length swollen and aching, leaking out precum from his pretty tip.

“ I’m going put my cock in now, ok sweetheart?” He seems to take it easy on you, as he doesn’t mention your mouth salivating at the sight of his dick.

“need it bad, been waiting for it”

“ Oh I know, i’ve seen the way you look at me” he laughs sinisterly.

He uses one of his arms to spread your thighs wider apart as his other hands supports you up, grasping the whole of your back. You smile up at him

He positions himself nearer to you, his cock at your entrance.

“ it’s gonna be a big stretch ok, need you to breath, if you need support, hold onto my shoulder.” he senses your lack of experience, or at least your naivety. you had never experienced anything like this, and you never would again, he would make sure of it.

you nod your head and look up. You’re already cock drunk, you trust him with your life. He reassures you with a kiss to your forehead.

Homelander bullies his length through your warm walls, gently and slowly. you let out a cry, both of pleasure and pain. you feel so good full, He groans into your mouth, as you moan into his.

“ ok honey, it’s going in”

“mmmphh John, so big..”

“does it hurt?” he stops in his tracks.

“a little, but not a lot” you say almost in a whisper.

“ok, ill keep going really slow, sweetheart”

He thrusts real slow, as he caresses your face. you lose feeling in your legs as he pounds softly into you. He finds him rhythm quickly as he maintains his pace. You hold onto his back as he moves his hands all over you.

“ God, your tight pussy clenching my cock feels so good sweet girl”

You smile and giggle.

“ My dick needs to be in your sweet cunt forever, sweet cunt, sweet girl” He growls into your ear.

“mm Keep going daddy!” you squeal, not knowing the damage you have done but uttering those words. Homelander feels like could come right then and there. A primal switch flipped in his brain.

Tears begin to swell in your eyes. “ I’m so so so sorry i didn’t mean to say that” Homelander sees your eyebrows furrow and your eyes widen.

His thrusts begin to pick up the pace, the perfect rhythm becomes sloppy, as your juices spill out of your thigh. His fat cock ever so slightly touches your cervix as you let out a soft sob.

“you don’t know what you do to me don’t you? Jesus, this pussy was molded for my cock” He grabs you by your knees and throws your legs over his shoulders. His dick twitches inside of you, signaling he’s about to cum, and you’re about to follow him.

“Say it again. Call me what you just called me” He annunciatesin a low voice.

“ Fuck, daddy feels good, want your cum” You feel free of all embarrassment and shame in that moment as you bask in euphoria.

“ That’s a good girl. Good girls get to cum. Good girls get filled up with daddy’s cum” Homelander never knew that this nickname did it for him. Hell, he was more of a mommy kind of guy, but he would do anything for you. Any word that came out of your mouth would make him hard, because it was you. But submitting yourself to him in this way, it did more than getting his dick up. He was disgusted by this feeling. What was it? Why did it feel so weird?

“ Oh god I’m gonna cum, gonna cum in you, give you babies oh god” He sloppily kisses your face, as fat blobs of sticky cum drip out of your cunt. He keeps his cock in your pussy, as he holds you with your face pressed to his chest.

“i need to come daddy” you stutter and shake under him.

He allows you to come and you swear you see stars. John smears his cum across your pussy, then he bends down to kiss in between your lips highs.

He helps you into your skirt and what’s left of the rest of your clothes. You smile at him, and he smiles back. A genuine smile.

that got a little more emotional then i thought it was? idk should i make more of homelander x reader in mind? if you want to give feedback feel free to :) i’m doing this to be a better writer !

divider creds: @cafekitsune @bunnysrph @anitalenia

[bestlilithian]

Home is the first grave.

[ Moon-Pluto, Pluto in 4th house culture ]

tw for various mentions of abuse and death as well as mental problems, sh and su!cide, also needles (dont ask)

- may have experienced a lot of death in thr family or in the close neighborhood

- feel more connected to your dead relatives than your alive ones

- there mightve been a death in your family before you were born

- feeling peacful in graveyards

- may have fantasized about death/su!cide, might percieve death as something that brings peace (hence the fantasies, because really all you ever wanted was peace)

- wanting peace but knowing you cannot have it because of your nature; feeling like theres just something in your blood in your soul that is uncontrollable and overwhelming

- your household was always a house , never a home

- being raised by very old people, enjoying the presence of much older wiser people (like, literal elders not hot teachers 💀)

- enduring literal psychological warfare in your home (usual your mother waged war on you as soon as you were old enough to form a coherent critical thought)

- "I hate you, dont leave me" (might be the attitude of your mother towards you, or yours towards others you love)

- Your mother always knew when you were lying or hiding something. Especially if she had a scorpio moon or moon/pluto aspects herself. You grew up extremely fearful of her.

- moon pluto culture is hearing your mother talk lovingly about her own fucked up mother, she never accepted the severity of her own abuse, until of course she needs to use it in an argument against you "Im a great mother, my mother was so much worse"(basically Im good because I abuse you differently than I was abused 😍 same shit different package)

- not liking motherly women or women who try to be mother figures to you, feeling uncomofortable around them; youre uncomfortable with how much you crave motherly love and people who can provide you that become threats because of the power they could have over you if you opened up

- being betrayed by the women in your life, especially those who were much older and supposed to take care of you (teachers, tutors, family members, therapists, babysitters..)

- toxic female friends 😁🔫 bonus : really close but toxic female friendships in youth that feel like death when you end them even though you know it was necessary

- feeling pain so deeply you think you will drop dead or have a heart attack. (When I was little and depressed I wrote in a diary of mine "My body will kill me before I get to")

more on this : when you start crying because of immense emotional pain and suddenly your heart is burning and beating too fast and youre getting light headed and throwing up , and suddenly youre not crying because of the pain, youre crying because youre afraid youre about to have a heart attack and die

- fearing that your mother will k word herself or you if you try to leave her (harsh aspects mostly)

- learning what emotional violence is very early, how to wield it and defend against it

- turning your emotions off completely for a while and then having a nervous breakdown when it all rushes back

- reading up on psychology, psychiatry and works of psychotherapists so you can heal and never become your mother

- wanting to put a bullet in your head when you notice yourself thinking or behaving like your mother

- going home after you spent time somewhere where you felt good and safe is extremely dreadful

- your mother doesnt see you as a human being (harsh aspects especially), and may take you a while to figure this out

- extremely controlling behavior from your mother or other caretakers (for example my mother threatened to send people to stalk me when I moved to a diff city, to 'make sure Im not doing something bad')

- deeply grieving the loss of your childhood and your inner child

- almost choking while crying or passing out

- feeling like youre a horrible person and dont deserve your family [because youre in deep denial and are seeing the flaws of your family as your own and denying your own trauma]

- learning about sex early on, perhaps early sexual obsession but not like promiscuity more like craving for deep intimacy (also you were probably deeply ashamed of it)

- not telling your family (esp mother) anything because they will ruin it for you

- being accused of being a psychopath, uncaring, selfish for "not loving your family enough"

- not knowing how to feel about the members of your family that played a more passive role in your life because they didnt do anything wrong but they didnt do anything right either; surely they knew , why didnt they stop it? why didnt they save you? (Im talking about adults obviously)

- your parents mightve been much older when you were born, you might have siblings much older than you

- doing anything to avoid your intense emotions and then when you break down and feel everything you realize how freeing it is and how comfortable you actually are with the intensity

- gutteral reactions to songs you deeply relate to (I hear 10 seconds of 'Slipping through my fingers' and I am dead on the floor)

- being afraid of your mother or just of your family in general

- you could probably kill someone with your bare hands if you were angry and hurt enough

- scary as fuck when you actually show your anger

- if you cry in the midst of a fight (verbal or physical) ... someone tell that person to make peace w God . cause thats you crying because of what youre about to do, because thats you loosing the last crumb of humanity you had for them and that can only end one way.

- you would probably kill for your loved ones

- your friends feel like you would help them hide a body (and you probably would)

- recognizing people by footsteps and breathing patterns (especially family members)

- deep deep eyes, people can see war and death them, and they feel like you see their pain too (because you do)

- reading people easily

- enjoying? cruelty (to yourself or others), like getting impulses to do something that would cause you or someone else that ugly feeling of facing cruelty

- finding comfort in the cold and the dark

- insane nightmares since youth, growing to be used to them

- its very hard to shock you

- you know when someones lying

- you might dread certain types of pain yet feel pleasure from them (personally I hate having my blood taken for a test but then I end up immensely enjoying the feeling of a needle pricking my skin and going deep into my vein)

- feeling the need to "kill" some your habits; most likely to drop things cold turkey and be extremely strict in breaking bad habits

- might enjoy really dark, emotionally and morally complex media

- immediately recognizing other moon pluto people and trauma bonding

- extremely good pain endurance. not necessarily tolerance , but endurance. you feel the pain and do it anyway.

- might not react to physical pain at all from a young age

- fantasies about drowning or slipping away peacfully

- either loving deep waters or hating them

- randomly breaking down in the middle of the day because of some pain you buried 5 years ago

- might self harm a lot because of your complex relationship w pain, it genuinely helps sometimes

- home feels like literal prison

- seeing the value in suffering, you might reject the idea that suffering is bad and should be avoided and prevented at all costs

- you might become religious as you mature (but usually in your own way, not necessarily according to tradition)

- forced to eat or denied food in your home, this mightve fucked up your relationship with food

And lastly, I need you to engrave this in yourself :

Wrong love is not love.

[ikementally-deficient]

Advice On Writing

I have a couple of writing friends who keep asking me for advice (which is extremely flattering and I love to infodump, please don't stop), but I thought getting my thoughts down on the metaphorical paper and putting them out into the world might be helpful for others as well.

I mostly had fanfiction in mind when I wrote this, but honestly I think the vast majority of it will be applicable to any kind of creative writing.

I would love to get feedback or have conversations about this, so if you want to squawk at or with me, please don't hesitate!

The Bare Minimum

Write

Write as often and as much as you can. If you manage to do nothing else on this list, just writing consistently and continuously will eventually improve your skills, even if it takes a long time.

The Basics

2. Read

Find things you enjoy, and read them. Read as much as you have time for. Things that speak to you and make you feel things (words, turns of phrase, tropes) will all work their way into your subconscious and feed your own writing.

3. Read Critically

Re-read the things you enjoy, and consciously think about why you enjoy them. Why did this scene manage to express such a clear sense of desolation? What about this interaction between characters made me relate to them so much? How did this story give me such a sense of satisfaction and coming full circle? Highlight the phrases you really love. Look for and circle the small details that foreshadow later developments. Identify the things you don’t like as well (nothing is perfect). How would you have done this differently? Do you hate the purple prose, or is it killing you that these scenes aren’t more detailed? Look up the words you don’t understand - maybe the author chose their words poorly, or maybe you’re one of the lucky ten thousand who gets to learn a new vocabulary word today.

The Cringe Parts

4. Ask for constructive criticism

This part is really hard, but vital. While you will inevitably find some of the weaknesses of your own writing, you won’t find all of them. An outside perspective is invaluable. If you’re frightened of constructive criticism, start small. Ask one person to look at SPAG (spelling, punctuation, and grammar). Pick one paragraph or scene to show someone and ask them how it flows. Have someone review your outline for plotholes instead of giving them prose. Brace yourself for things you don’t want to hear. Sit with any and all criticism for a few days before reacting. It’s okay to decide that someone just didn’t get what you were going for, but make sure that’s actually true instead of just a knee-jerk reaction to hurt feelings or a bruised ego. Listen to what your reviewer or beta is actually saying - ‘this part confuses me’ doesn’t mean your writing is bad, it means that your head holds the entire picture and you just didn’t put enough of that down on paper so your reader can see it too.

5. Re-read your own work

Every once in a while, go back and see how what you wrote six months ago or last year holds up. You’ve been writing for a while, you’re a stronger writer, so give yourself the perspective of seeing how far you’ve come. And see if there are any weak areas that are still giving you trouble; you can focus more on those in your next piece of writing.

6. Edit for other people

Editing is a skill. No one falls out of the sky able to give useful and actionable feedback. The act of reading and criticising something you have a little cognitive distance from is far easier than criticising your own work, but it’s still a muscle you need to build. Start with basic proof reading (SPAG). Ask questions: “Why did you choose this word, it seems obscure?” Explain your feedback: “I can’t tell who’s speaking here, I think the dialogue went back and forth one too many times without a tag.” Instead of “I don’t like this,” explain why: “This description feels like something I’ve seen too many times already and feel cliché, but I bet you can change it up.” Learning to give that feedback in a kind and helpful way is something you can bring back to your own writing. Remember that if someone asks you to beta read or edit their work, they too are trying to get better. Don’t just blow sunshine up their ass, give them the respect of being honest about elements that aren’t working. Just don’t be an asshole about it. 

Some resources on being a good beta reader - these also are handy guides for writers on how to communicate their needs effectively to a beta reader:

How to Be a Great Beta Reader and Give Helpful Feedback (dianaurban.com)

What makes a good beta reader? (smallbluedog.com)

Tips on how to beta read, from a beta reader : FanFiction (reddit.com)

Advanced Class

7. Try new things

Try a different format. If you mostly write long, multi-chapter works, aim for a short story. Write some poetry. Change up your genre. Consciously try to imitate someone else’s style. Stretch out of your comfort zone. Feel like you write too much descriptive detail? Force yourself to write nothing but dialogue, like Isaac Asimov. Feel like your characters are always floating in empty space? Indulge in some Robert Jordan, down to every detail of what the characters are wearing. This is going to be difficult, and the results might not be something you want to share publicly, but it’s still worth the effort.

8. Read about writing

There are university courses on this stuff. Check your local library for a copy of the Little, Brown Handbook - it’s aimed at academic writing, but it’s a great resource on grammar and syntax and planning and revising your work. Look for fun ones like The Transitive Vampire and The Well-Tempered Sentence, or Eats, Shoots & Leaves. Centre for Fiction has a great list of books on creative writing by writers, and industry professionals (if publishing for profit is a goal of yours). 

Back to the Beginning

9. Keep writing

You might not be the next Stephen King, or Jude Devereaux, or Isaac Asimov. Cool, me neither. You don’t have to be. As long as writing is still giving you joy, keep doing it. 

[brucebocchi]

Summer 2024 anime roundup: ALL IN ONE

hey! i also post these reviews on my ko-fi. this is a labor of love so if you like the stuff i write, i'd really appreciate it if you'd throw a few bucks my way. thanks!

Well, I'm much busier now than I was in the first half of the year, so that means less time for anime and less time for writing about it. I managed to watch only (ONLY?) nine shows this season, so might as well put it all in one post.

As always, each show's OP is linked in the title.

Let's jump in.

Returning anime

NieR: Automata Ver. 1.1a, part 2

After a COVID-plagued production delayed the last few episodes of its first half last year, A-1 Pictures’ adaptation of Yoko Taro’s landmark action-RPG returns to deliver the real meat of the story. And as with the game, the first half of NieR: Automata Ver. 1.1a was something I’d classify as “pretty good!,” while the remainder is what makes the entire endeavor worthwhile.

I’m happy to report that not only did the studio not lose a step, but they improved on the presentation of Ver. 1.1a immensely. The action sequences are superb and expressive throughout, and the CGI integration is actually, y’know, integrated this time out. The score, both original and borrowed from Keiichi Okabe’s contributions to the NieR duology, remains as evocative as ever. They also ramped up the cheesecake more than a little bit, and let’s be real, that was the draw for a lot of people in the first place.

If there’s any one thing Ver. 1.1a can claim as an advantage over the game’s narrative, it’s that the former does a lot more work in building on A2 as a character. There’s just enough to chew on in the game, but having more of her backstory from the YoRHa stage play and manga adaptation integrated into the narrative makes for more of a meal. Having A2’s history and real personality pinned up as a backdrop as she struggles to suppress both really fleshes out her journey and eventual resolve as shit continues to hit the fan. She’s also just a big ol’ tsundere sometimes. And not for nothing, but they gave her an absolute DUMPY for no reason, but I can’t really pin that as a negative.

9S’ whole thing happens too. I really don’t have much to add to that.

When I reviewed this show’s first half at the end of 2023, I mentioned that the initial concern with the anime’s very existence is that it’s adapting a narrative that is functionally being told through the very fact that it’s a video game. The delivery of the game’s true ending, especially, is so innately A Video Game that it’s functionally impossible to adapt directly into a television show. I’m happy to say that although that function is lost, Ver. 1.1a’s ending is still plenty satisfying (and I’m told especially so for Drakengard fans, without giving too much away). Something is still very much lost in the transition, though. In his review of the penultimate episode, Anime News Network’s James Beckett wrote:

What the anime of NieR:Automata has not been able to capture in these critical final moments is the way that the game makes its players complicit in the tragedy in a way that they could never be if they simply sat down and passively watched these events unfold from behind the safe veil of the fourth wall. It would be like if we were each individually guided on stage to place our hands on Hamlet's shoulder and push him gently onwards to his final destination. It doesn't change anything about what happens in the story, but it changes everything about what it means to us.

These acts of “ludonarrative culpability,” as Beckett called it, are the reason why Yoko Taro is considered an auteur in the gaming sphere. Both NieR games are tragedies writ large, and Yoko’s genius lies in making you, the player, carry out the tragedy, often well before you realize what you’ve wrought. And to Beckett’s point from his review, NieR: Automata is a perfectly fine sci-fi story in its own right, but the game puts the blood squarely on the player’s hands and inserts them into the narrative in a way that simply watching cannot. The connection I felt to the story was only there because I’d already played the game myself; I can only imagine how it would feel if this was your introduction to NieR.

So to return to a question I suggested at the end of last year: Do I recommend this to people who haven’t played the game? Eh, not particularly. It’s a well-made show, to be sure, but there’s enough missing from what makes Automata such an exceptional game that I’m not sure I can recommend it wholeheartedly if you’re not already familiar. Then again, I wouldn’t really know how it reads from the other side. To those who know and love the game, Ver. 1.1a isn’t quite the “Rebuild of NieR” some were hoping it to be, but it’s an interesting companion piece that takes surprising strides to tie it even closer to the preceding franchise. If you’re a newcomer? YMMV. Either way, play the game.

Oshi no Ko, season 2

I spent far more time than was necessary in the Discourse Mines following Oshi no Ko’s thunderous debut last year and a controversial (but fortunately inconsequential) turn of events in the manga shortly after the season finale. Though I remain one of the series’ foremost glazers, I’ve had my moments where I worried that maybe I overrated it a bit in my head, that I carried too much water for writer Aka Akasaka, and that I’m still riding the high of the series’ premiere.

Oshi no Ko’s second season completely erased any lingering worry almost immediately and reminded me and the world that yes, it Really Is That Good. The “It’s So Over” switch flipped to “We Are So Back” as soon as best girl Kana Arima and co-lead Taiki Himekawa dazzled their co-stars and one another with literally colorful displays of their acting prowesses. My expectations continued to rise as an active reader of the source material, and studio Doga Kobo continued to surpass them. This adaptation is just that good.

Aqua’s quest for revenge and Akasaka’s continuing examination of Japan’s entertainment industry both lead us into the world of stage acting, specifically 2.5D adaptations of famous manga and anime. Aqua is cast alongside Kana and his sham girlfriend and former reality show co-star Akane in an adaptation of the fictional smash hit shonen manga Tokyo Blade, along with several members of a theater company to which Ai once belonged. While Aqua is more concerned with getting dirt on Ai’s background than he is with acting, Kana and Akane have much more personal stakes as they try to show one another up and still put on the best play they can. Kana can’t stand Akane’s absolutist, matter-of-fact approach to acting (nor the fact that she’s fake-dating the guy for whom Kana’s down abysmal), while Akane, who idolized Kana as a child and is disappointed to see her take a step back as an actress, is trying her damnedest to rekindle the spark that convinced her to pick up acting in the first place. On the fringes, rookie actor Melt Narushima is trying to make up for a heinous performance in the first season that earned him the scorn of his more experienced castmates as well as a mangaka’s permanent ire.

A good amount of this arc does feel like Akasaka was still sorting through his feelings about the Kaguya-sama live adaptation when he wrote it, but he also gave himself some room for reflection on his own side of the equation as a mangaka. Tokyo Blade’s creator, Abiko Samejima, holds her creation very dear and is not impressed with the script. Her friend and former boss, Yoriko Kichijouji, is entirely too familiar with how badly the process can go; her own manga, Sweet Today, was horribly botched in this show’s first season, and she wants to help Abiko-sensei keep a level head. Kichijouji-sensei is the voice of reason this time out as she points out all of the concessions creators may need to take in order to get their work adapted and the unimpeachable truth that mangaka are basically crazy people (and you can practically hear Akasaka screaming through her lines; four months after Kichijouji said this in the manga, Kaguya-sama published its final chapter, marking Akasaka’s retirement from illustrating serialized manga). At her urging, in addition to an all-nighter helping Abiko-sensei make a deadline, the play goes off without any more hitches.

I didn’t much care for the Tokyo Blade arc in the manga but I knew full well that it would translate well to anime just as well as the acting sequences in the first season had. Akasaka’s decision to have the actors treat the stage as a battleground felt a little silly on the page, but experiencing everything again in sound and motion reminded me that this was the same genre of psychological competition that made Kaguya-sama one of my all-time favorites. Doga Kobo is just stupidly good at adapting manga. God, the animation is incredible. Character animation is as deliberate and mesmerizing as always, and emotional moments are punctuated by interpretive splashes of watercolors. Melt’s breakout on stage was a standout moment in the manga, but the abstract, expressionistic depiction of his redemption was so perfectly conceived on screen that life imitated art: Kichijouji-sensei cried in the anime, and manga artist Mengo Yokoyari cried in real life.

I could go on and on and on, but if you’re already this deep into Oshi no Ko I really don’t need to tell you anything else. This season, for all its gorgeous visuals and onstage glory, does not hesitate to remind you at the worst possible moments that this is still ultimately a revenge story and pulls the rug from you just as gleefully as it dazzles. The first season was already exceptional, but the second cements Oshi no Ko as an all-time great adaptation. As a fan of the manga, this is as good of an anime as I could ask for, and then some.

Mixed Bags

My Deer Friend Nokotan

I’m just exhausted.

I’ll admit, I bit a little too hard on the marketing. The preview trailers promised madcap, nonsensical fun on the level of Nichijou or Asobi Asobase, the cast was exceptional, and the OP’s refrain was a total earworm (Shikanoko Nokonoko Koshitantan! Shikanoko Nokonoko Koshitantan! Shikanoko Nokonoko Koshitantan!). It even has the cast jumping in the air! And we all know the Ryo Yamada rule! This was going to set the bar for gag anime!

Oh, how little I knew. Y’know how sometimes you see a trailer for a middling comedy movie and you can tell they already gave away all of the movie’s best jokes? Turns out My Deer Friend Nokotan did just that. I did temper my expectations; it’s not like I thought this was going to be the second coming of Nichijou or anything, but I guess I was still expecting something, I dunno, funnier?

The premise seemed to lend itself to a good comedy either way: Torako Koshi, a former delinquent, has successfully expunged her prior reputation and worked her way up to becoming her school’s student council president. All of that is nearly thrown away when a bizarre new student, Noko Shikanoko, immediately clocks her and almost spills the beans. Also, Shikanoko (who prefers to be addressed as Nokotan) has antlers and can commune with deer. She may even be a deer herself. She hoodwinks Koshi into starting a Deer Club at school, where they recruit Koshi’s upsetting younger sister Anko and the languid, rice-obsessed Bashame. Allegedly, shenanigans ensue.

Take this with a grain of salt, as humor is very subjective, but this show just plain isn’t very funny. Nokotan’s gags hit at least as often as they miss, and a lot of them just feel unforgivably dull. One bad segment can feel like an entire episode. The only reliable gags are gross-out humor, outsized slow-motion violence, or Nausicaä references. Everything else is just Koshi barging into the lower third of the screen to shout about how wacky the joke was just then.

Look, I know that humor doesn’t always translate across cultures. The things I don’t understand about Japanese humor could fill several libraries. I do, at the very least, get the basics of the boke/tsukkomi dynamic (fool and straight-man, basically) and how the reaction to a silly thing is usually the real punchline. I’ve absorbed enough Japanese media to adapt to that momentum. That nearly goes out the window here, because Koshi’s role as the tsukkomi is a straight-up momentum killer. It’s rarely just a “wait, what?!” or a “yeah, that’s rich coming from you;” it’s usually more like “wait, that is so ridiculous! You couldn’t possibly have pulled that off! And what’s that you’re wearing all of a sudden?” The rhythm is just gone. Comic timing? Don’t know her. Even if I thought the joke was funny at first, you could probably see any semblance of a smirk fading off my face by the time she was done. And hey, maybe some of this stuff doesn’t translate. Maybe it’s not that funny in Japan either.

The other characters outside of our main two really don’t help. Anko’s whole “yandere siscon” act isn’t very funny to start with, and she brings nothing to the table otherwise. Bashame is such a nothing character that even Koshi was sick of her by the end of the season. And while I feel like a good narrator can add a good level of je ne sais quoi to a comedy anime (see: Kaguya-sama), an overly intrusive one can actively take away from the humor (see: the Kaguya-sama dub). Nokotan’s narrator comes at it with a sort of winking, nudging “HEY, WE’RE A GAG ANIME” energy that gets too grating, too quickly. What doesn’t help is that he eventually affects a fake-desperate “please watch this show and tell your friends!” bent that called to mind Ron Howard’s narration in Arrested Development’s third season as it was approaching cancellation. Meta humor, as in the latter, can absolutely elevate the level of comedy; 100 Girlfriends in particular wielded it like a machete. In Nokotan, on the other hand, it betrays a clear lack of confidence in the writing, and there’s nothing less funny than comedy that doesn’t even believe in itself.

It’s not all awful, I swear. There are genuinely some very good gags; Nokotan’s cat-and-mouse game with an anachronistic matagi was a blast from beginning to end, and the skin-suit gag got a bigger laugh out of me than almost anything else I saw this season. Any good anime, especially a comedy, lives and dies by its voice cast, and Megumi Han’s performance as the titular Nokotan is this show’s whirring, beeping life support. She makes the absolute most of her considerable range as the jokes call for it, while somehow never stepping on her own toes by dipping into her Kana Arima voice from Oshi no Ko. Koshi shares a VA with Hatsune goddamn Miku. Bashame is pretty much only tolerable thanks to the languid performance of relative newcomer Fuuka Izumi, whom I’m very glad to hear in something that isn’t Gushing Over Magical Girls.

And aside from the music (the OP, to be fair, is infectious), that’s about all there is to like about the production. Did Studio WIT really make this? It looks like it could’ve been made by anybody, and that’s not a compliment. The uncanny CGI deer were the only real visual standout, and even those lost their shine before long. Something attempting to be this audacious needs to have a look to match, and Nokotan falls flat. Again, maybe that’s on me for trying to hold it to the standard Nichijou set.

I’d honestly be surprised if this gets picked up for another season. I’d be hard-pressed to come back for more.

No Longer Allowed in Another World

(CONTENT WARNING for discussion of suicide)

Osamu Dazai was one of the most complex and fascinating figures in Japan’s modern literary canon, right up there with his ideological opposite and real-life rival, Yukio Mishima. Dazai was, frankly, a disaster. He was a serial womanizer, terrible with money, repeatedly disowned by his family, unemployable, a deadbeat dad, and hopelessly addicted to drugs and booze. His magnum opus, Ningen Shikkaku, or No Longer Human, is a stark semi-autobiography, just barely fictionalizing his repeated failures of dignity and self-preservation, including his several failed attempts at double-suicide with his many illicit lovers. The same year it was published, however, Dazai was successful in his final attempt, drowning himself alongside his mistress in 1948.

But like, what if he got hit by the isekai truck instead?

Isekai Shikkaku, or No Longer Allowed in Another World, fully Goes There. The series begins with the legally distinct, unnamed Sensei and his lover Sacchan blindsided by an anachronistic truck along the riverbed. Sensei comes to, alone, in a monastery inspired by the JRPGs from well after his time. He doesn’t know what’s going on and he doesn’t care. All that matters is that he’s still alive, and that sucks for him. Sensei is greeted by Annette, an elf priestess in a virgin killer sweater, who is shocked to discover that not only has he not gained a single stat boost by coming to this world, but he’d also rather kill himself than take her up on the standard offer of an OP cheat skill (and he’d also just rather kill himself in general). So he bounces to go find Sacchan. His refreshing outlook on the new world, as opposed to the other excitable losers who got isekai’d before him, completely melts Annette’s brain to the point of falling in love with him on the spot, so she dons her sluttiest Persona 3 battle armor to chase after him.

Sensei hates this shit. Contemporary western fantasy hadn’t made its way to Japan yet in his time, so he has zero point of reference in this world, and he sure as shit has no clue what a JRPG is. The level-up jingles give him migraines. He has no self-preservation instincts and the only solace he has in this strange new world is a jar of toxic sleeping pills that he munches like M&Ms. He has no interest in or aptitude for fighting, so when he encounters a big-tiddy catgirl being squeezed half to death by a walking tree’s branches, Sensei sees the perfect opportunity to get himself killed. Unfortunately, his blood has become so toxic from said pills that piercing his skin instantly kills the tree, saving the young lady he incorrectly names Tama. Much to Annette’s consternation, she joins the party, and they set out on Sensei’s quest to find his lover and finally die in peace.

As you can guess, that’s not what happens. For some time, we see Sensei throwing himself in harm’s way, floridly imploring various fantasy monsters to kill him in one shot with their big bats, to the point where they get creeped out. His vaguely-threatening exhortations for death make for a fine formula, but one that can wear thin quickly. Before it gets that chance, though, the seed planted in Annette’s introduction bears fruit: The visitors to this world from our own aren’t here in isolation, and they have succeeded in completing the usual isekai goal of overthrowing the demon king. There’s now a massive power vacuum, and nature abhors that shit, so a cabal of erstwhile isekai protags dub themselves the Fallen Angels and decide to take over.

This turn was, to put it bluntly, the main thing that kept me watching. There’s a fine bit of commentary inherent to this framing that the type of wet-noodle, borderline faceless self-insert isekai protags tend to appeal to antisocial losers who would rather give into their basest impulses than see an opportunity to actually better themselves. This is not at all lost on Sensei; his keen eye for the human condition leads him to interrogate the Fallen Angels his party encounters so that he can write about their own failures as humans, as well as the gaping voids in their previous lives that led to them acting like petty tyrants as soon as they gained a bit of power and treating a brand new world like their own personal playground. Sensei’s writings reveal that he did indeed gain a power when he came over to this world; if he sees fit, a finished book will surround its subject and reanimate them back in their original world and afford them a second chance to right their wrongs or, in one particularly moving case, start over on the right foot.

For as audacious as No Longer Allowed’s premise is and as impeccable its comic timing and voice cast (you will find some absolute heaters completely buried on the call list), I just didn’t find it all that compelling. Isekai as a genre is so oversaturated that it was old hat to call it oversaturated even five years ago, so while I do try to pan for gold, sometimes I just come up with a neat-looking river stone. Hell, I can’t even say this one’s all that neat-looking; there’s nothing that looks all that great about it to begin with. The character designs and backdrops are pretty standard JRPG-style stuff that you’re just as likely to find in the likes of Helck, with lackluster animation to match. Didn’t care too much for most of the characters either. Even for its commentary on the isekai genre and the type of person it caters to, No Longer Allowed just ends up shaking out like another isekai series. 

There’s clearly more at play here, and I might just go ahead and read the manga because I didn’t really find myself looking forward to watching the anime. Maybe it just didn’t translate well. No Longer Allowed in Another World does clearly have something to say under its silly premise, but its method of getting that message across is, ironically, buried underneath the usual trappings of the genre it’s trying to say something about. 

Wistoria: Wand and Sword

I’m gonna preface this by saying that Wistoria is probably the best anime I watched this year that I’ve classified as a “Mixed Bag,” save for Jellyfish Can’t Swim in the Night. I’m generally of the mind that excellent production can make up for a middling story (my enjoyment of the likes of Solo Leveling and Wind Breaker this year was pretty emblematic of that), and that is the case here for the most part. Wistoria, story-wise, is nothing special; it’s your standard power fantasy set in a magical school, but the entire presentation is just almost fascinating enough to overcome that hurdle.

Hell, it’s almost not even worth going over the plot. Unassuming boy named Will goes to a magic academy, he doesn’t have any magical aptitude, so he makes up for it by honing his hand-to-hand combat prowess in the school’s designated dungeon. It’s Mashle meets Solo Leveling. Will gets picked on (like, a LOT), but he doesn’t care, because he made a promise long ago to reach the pinnacle of magical society to reach his childhood friend, who happens to be a genius mage. There are duels, there’s a tournament, there’s monsters, you know how this goes.

Will has allies in the school, namely a female friend who’s madly in love with him as well as a professor who covers for his shortcomings in magic-related subjects, but remember that this is a self-insert fantasy: There are also increasingly menacing bullies for him to put in their place. Will is challenged by a Snape-like instructor, a classmate who just hates him so much for not having magic aptitude, and a top performer at the school who’s just flat-out evil (and racist to boot!). And of course the latter two also have goon squads of snickering hangers-on. Will always succeeds, of course, because despite his shortcomings, he’s the strongest and most specialest boy. It’s almost like an isekai without the isekai. Too bad we find out that Will is hilariously shredded, which kinda blows a hole in the self-insert aspect.

Goofy shonen-isms aside, there’s still plenty to enjoy here. Varying types of magic, artifacts, and fantasy races abound, and lore is sprinkled throughout the show in character biographies in the commercial break eyecatches. The story does get gradually less stupid as the season goes on and characters are better fleshed out. And hey, there’s nothing wrong with watching a really strong dude beat the shit out of monsters and assholes.

The only thing that really kept me coming back to Wistoria was that, plainly, it looks and sounds fucking awesome. It’s not the best-looking anime I watched this season (that would either be Oshi no Ko or one of the next two anime on this list), but Wistoria takes such a surprisingly cinematic approach to such an uninspiring story that I couldn’t help but keep watching. The lighting effects are lush, combat animation is bonkers in its best moments, and the score is pretty darn good too. It definitely takes some big swings at simulating camera movements and perspective shots that don’t always accomplish what they set out to do, but I can appreciate the ambition bleeding through. I can see the vision, and that’s what counts.

The actual content is pretty paint-by-numbers, but Wistoria is well-made enough that it’s worth a shaky recommendation. Maybe just turn your brain off until the action picks up. I've heard the manga gets pretty good from here on out, so I'll probably stick it out for another season.

The Gems

The Elusive Samurai

If you’re not already familiar with this series, do me a favor and watch the OP linked right above. Pretty good character animation, right? Expressive, weighty, plenty of personality. The colors pop like crazy too! A lot of the time, an anime series will heavily stylize its OP to attract eyeballs and YouTube metrics, oftentimes bringing in outside animators and directors for a unique feel. In the case of The Elusive Samurai, I cannot stress enough that all that animation is the standard.

Yes, this show looks exceptional. Even putting aside the fact that it’s historical fiction, this show has a truly timeless look to it that I still struggle to put into words. The Elusive Samurai is clearly a modern production but bears all of the hallmarks of what great animation has always looked like when a studio is willing to invest in it: Colors are so bold and saturated that I want to take a damn bite out of them, backgrounds are painstakingly hand-painted even for brief cuts, and there even seems to be a film grain overlay to really sell the classic feel. It’s not perfect (I’ll get into that later), but holy shit is it a feast for the eyes.

Adapted from the pages of Weekly Shonen Jump, The Elusive Samurai is a heavily fictionalized retelling of the fallout of the Siege of Kamakura in the 14th Century. Tokiyuki Hojo, left without a family in a bloody coup of the shogunate, is prevented from committing suicide by enigmatic priest Yorishige Suwa and then thrown right back into the fire of the battlefield. Yorishige, who has prophetic visions of the future, foresaw Tokiyuki’s ascent to leadership and wants to see how he fares in battle. Tokiyuki didn’t bother with his training as a young master, instead playing elaborate games of hide-and-seek with the Hojo clan’s advisors, so in the face of certain danger, he’s left with no choice but to do what he does best and run the fuck away. And as with evading his training, Tokiyuki realizes that it’s way more fun than actual combat, and the future is suddenly even more clear to Yorishige: Evasion, not bloodthirst, will guide Tokiyuki’s path to revenge.

At Yorishige’s increasingly unnerving behest, Tokiyuki goes into hiding at Suwa Shrine and begins building a squad to take down the usurper, Takauji Ashikaga. Along with Yorishige’s daughter, Shizuku, he teams up with young warriors Kojiro and Ayako, and in their travels pick up the crass, kitsune-masked thief Genba and the food-obsessed swordsboy Fubuki. It’s fine as extended casts go, though we don’t get much from a few of them past their introductory arcs. Tokiyuki is an absolute delight, though. He’s a sweet and joyful kid despite his circumstances; real shonen protag material. And most importantly, he’s completely over Yorishige’s shit.

I’m a sucker for magical realism, and The Elusive Samurai delivers. Yorishige really does appear to be a prophet, to the point where he can even predict Dragon Ball Z (yes, really), and he and Shizuku are capable of pulling off acts that any actual person would consider a literal miracle. Mythical beasts roam the land and those that were slain appear to reside on a different realm accessible to the Suwas. All of Takauji’s top soldiers have senses and abilities far beyond anything human or animal, and Takauji himself seems to have borrowed some of his prowess from the devil himself. With this show’s commitment to top-tier visuals and animation, the sky's the limit for what we can see, and it kept me glued to my TV every episode. It almost made me want to watch Demon Slayer. Almost.

The cast has some solid performances from familiar names and voices: Yuichi Nakamura is his usual blusteringly silly self as Yorishige, Aoi Yuuki is a riot as Genba, and Katsuyuki Konishi (Kamina himself!) infuses Takauji with appropriate menace. There’s some Chainsaw Man and Bocchi sprinkled into Tokiyuki’s clan of rookie warriors as well. Good stuff, but what really caught my attention was a surprisingly familiar voice giving life to the bug-eyed villain Sadamune Ogasawara: None other than Yutaka Aoyama, the narrator of Kaguya-sama: Love is War. Nobody could have more perfectly infused Sadamune with the appropriate level of self-serious goofiness than the guy who narrated Kaguya-sama’s balloon game like it was an NFL Film. Perfect casting.

As incredible as this show looks most of the time, the remainder does have a critical issue: CloverWorks didn’t seem too invested in hand-animating horses or any of the show’s characters riding them, so it opted instead for CGI. Very poorly-implemented CGI. I really try to take stuff like this as it comes, but the modeling looks way too video-gamey for the style the rest of the show is going for, to the point where I’m taken out of it. There’s really no excuse for something this uncanny with the high bar The Elusive Samurai set for itself early on (and yes, Uzumaki is airing as I write this, and I’ll talk about the similar problem that show has at the end of the year).

I know I just said this about Wind Breaker last year, but this may be CloverWorks’ other Big Shonen Hit. It certainly has the juice, between the wacky gags and shockingly brutal violence, and CGI issues aside, the studio has clearly invested in it. A second season is already on the way, and I’d say it’s paid off. If the studio can iron out the kinks, this could end up becoming an all-timer.

Makeine: Too Many Losing Heroines!

If I haven’t made it clear enough, my anime journey has turned me into a bit of a romcom guy. Couldn’t tell you why. Maybe it’s because Tenchi Muyo was a formative anime for me, or maybe it’s because I got on Kaguya-sama relatively early in my return-to-weebdom trek and I’ve been chasing that high ever since. I could go on and on about the ones I’ve watched and which particularly stood out, but we’d be here all day. At the same time, though, a burgeoning market for the genre, particularly among the shonen demographic, means that there’s gonna be some real slop out there. Plenty of anime, manga, and especially light novels are targeted at the “lonely boy who wishes cute girls would attach themselves to him just because he’s A Nice Guy” type, and while there are some genuinely excellent series that cater plenty to that kind, there’s a well-defined line between the good and the trash.

Makeine is well aware of that line and elects to skip rope with it. Genre subversion is at its best when the work in question shows a genuine care for the milieu it’s satirizing, and Too Many Losing Heroines is to trashy light novel romcoms what The Eminence in Shadow is to edgy isekai and Bang Brave Bang Bravern is to vaguely homoerotic mech warfare. It’ll slap you in the face with every dumb threadbare cliche you’ve come to expect from the genre, and it’ll do so with a smile.

These stories are usually fronted by a total wet noodle and Kazuhiko Nukumizu is the soggiest soba you’ve ever seen. His main interests are water fountains and hey, wouldn’t you know it, light novel romcoms. As far as he’s concerned, he’s a background character with the personality to match. He’s thrust to the forefront, though, when he’s caught staring at his classmate, Anna Yanami, embarrassingly picking up the pieces from being brutally rejected at a cafe. She forces herself into Nukumizu’s booth and helps herself to several courses’ worth of stress-eating on his dime, which he never agreed to. As recompense, Anna decides to cook him lunch until her debt is more or less repaid, and would you look at that, Nukumizu just made a friend!

As the title would suggest, Anna’s not the only lovelorn maiden finding her way into Nukumizu’s school life. He’s exhorted into joining the school’s literature club, where he meets the track runner, Lemon Yakishio, and the lit club’s stammering stalwart, Chika Komari. He also has to bear witness to each of their own crushes backfiring and deal with the fallout. And amidst this chaos, there’s plenty of botched confessions, getting locked in storage closets, boob faceplants, and all the other nonsense you’d expect from the genre. And it’s terrific! And in the midst of all this, even as Nukumizu seems to be a passenger in this journey, you see him ever-so-slowly realize that he has some agency and grow closer to these girls. Makeine is plenty silly and more than a little stupid, but there’s plenty of heart in here as well.

The offbeat character dynamics and clever dialogue are what really make this. Everyone is just refreshingly weird in their own ways. Anna is a complete menace and totally convinced she’s the protagonist of life, and she may not even be wrong. I almost don’t care whether she and Nukumizu get together or not; they’re such a fun “serious guy/goblin mode girl” pairing that I’m not that interested in their dynamic changing. Komari and the lit club VP Koto are a dynamic fujoshi duo, ensuring that the club’s shenanigans aren’t too shonen-centric (and funny enough, Koto has her own idea for an Osamu Dazai isekai). Everyone in the student council has something demonstrably Wrong With Them, the homeroom teacher is a disaster, and the school nurse probably belongs in prison. I love every single one of them. I could’ve done without Nukumizu’s offputtingly-clingy little sister (and learning about her analogue in this season’s other romcom LN adaptation, Alya Sometimes Hides Her Feelings in Russian, was enough to put me off of watching it), but it looks like one of her own female classmates is in love with her, so that could be gold in later seasons.

A-1 Pictures, to borrow an industry term, put its entire pussy into this production. As with last year’s Heavenly Delusion, there was so much love put into the lighting effects, background art, and character animation that I felt like I was watching a Makoto Shinkai film at times. All of those elements working in tandem massaged my brain in such a way that when every episode ended, I was left confused because hey, where the hell is the rest of the movie? Makeine is also loaded with killer visual gags, and I give A-1 a ton of credit for letting those jokes land without calling too much attention to them, unlike a certain other show I watched this season. The opening and endings were real treats, with three different EDs as the season progressed, each depicting one of the titular heroines’ personal journeys (and performed by each respective girl’s VA, no less). This is some real investment on the studio’s part and it absolutely paid off.

I promise that every time I compare a romcom to Kaguya-sama, it comes at a great inner struggle to prevent myself from doing so, but if that anime is truly over and this is where A-1 is focusing its resources, Makeine may very well be a worthy successor. I really can’t say for sure whether this or The Elusive Samurai was the best new anime of the summer season, and it doesn’t help that they aired on the same day and I’d always watch them back-to-back. Just know that they’re easily two of the better anime I’ve seen this year.

Mayonaka Punch

If “mega-cancelled YouTuber starts up a new channel with a bunch of disaster lesbian vampires” isn’t enough of a hook for you, I really don’t know what else to tell you.

Masaki got kicked off her popular NewTube channel after punching one of her co-hosts, and the internet is letting her hear it. Maybe barging in on the “we’re firing Masaki” live stream and tackling one of them didn’t help either. Rather than film the bog-standard apology video, she figures she can just wing it and start up a solo channel. Masaki decides to start by playing the hits and drunkenly recreate her first channel’s breakout video in a spooky abandoned hospital, and finds more than she bargained for in a vampire named Live (pronounced like it’d be short for Olivia) who really, really wants to drink her blood in particular. Masaki nearly falls to her death in a panic, only for Live to save her and reveal that she has the very filmable ability to fly, so Masaki cuts a deal: If Live can help her get a new channel off the ground, Masaki will let her drink her blood.

This is tremendous content, so Masaki moves in with Live at Banpai Manor along with her vampire roomies to produce a new channel, co-starring the eternal 10-year-old day trader (night trader?) Ichiko, the soft-spoken fujoshi musician Fu, and the heavy-vaping gambling addict Tokage. They name the channel Mayonaka Punch (because mayonaka means “midnight” and because Masaki punched the shit out of her former co-host) and quickly get to work trying to beat Masaki’s former channel to their goal of a million subscribers (and a delicious lunch for Live). Even though they try to pass off their vampire shenanigans as Very Good CGI, they run afoul of a vampiric authority figure for exposing their identities, so they have to get internet famous the old fashioned way: Cute Girls Doing Cute Things.

I can’t quite put into words what a blast this show is. Mayonaka Punch frequently barrels along at a madcap pace, often punctuated by an electro-swing score, as its cast of loud idiots (and Fu) carom off of one another to chaotic effect. The voice cast really sells it, too: Ikumi Hasegawa (Kita in Bocchi the Rock!, Vladilena in 86, Übel in Frieren) owns every ounce of Masaki’s mounting exasperation as she deals with all the vampire nonsense while continuing to avoid the consequences of her own actions. Fairouz Ai continues her MVP-caliber resume for 2024 in style as Live, infusing her with a kind of desperate manic energy as she scratches and claws for Masaki’s approval. This was easily my favorite of her many roles so far this year, and two years removed from Chainsaw Man’s debut, it’s been a treat to hear her once again voicing a feral, bloodsucking loser.

As silly as Mayonaka Punch gets, though, it delivers some serious emotional blows when you least expect them. The fourth episode, centering on Fu’s history, is one of the best of any anime I watched this season. There’s also some very interesting history between Live and the head vampire’s go-between, Yuki, that was told through (though partially buried by) a series of video game facsimiles, and I hope there’s more there someday. And, of course, there’s Masaki’s evolving relationship with Live, with romantic undertones so tantalizing they might as well be overtones. I really thought there wasn’t enough time left in the season to reach a satisfying conclusion, and though it might not have fully reeled in the yuri bait, I was pleasantly surprised at how well everything tied together.

Mayonaka Punch’s ending is open enough that I can only hope it gets a second season, but I’m not about to hold my breath. That’s a tall order for original anime that don’t set the world on fire, but this one has all the right pieces for a future cult classic. Liked and subscribed. 

Suicide Squad Isekai

When this was announced, the only reaction it really got out of me was “Sure dude, why not.” As far as what this show is, it does what it says on the tin. It’s an isekai featuring a motley crew of anti-heroes plucked directly from the David Ayers and James Gunn Suicide Squad films. You already know what you’re in for.

Sure enough, this is a straight up Suicide Squad story from the jump: Harley Quinn and the Joker (the latter sporting yet another heinous makeover) try to pull off a heist, it goes sideways, Harley gets arrested and forced into Amanda Waller’s scheme to mine rare resources in another world alongside Deadshot, Clayface, Peacemaker, and King Shark. It’s your standard JRPG-style isekai fantasy world, except the previous Suicide Squad of Enchantress, the Thinker, Ratcatcher, and Killer Croc seem to have run roughshod over tensions between races and kingdoms, leaving Rick Flag alone to pick up the pieces.

And what ensues is pretty much what you’d expect. Everyone looks appropriately anime; Psycho-Pass character designer Akira Amano did especially good work with Harley, to the point where I’m shocked that a billion-yen idea like “anime Harley Quinn” was slept on for so long. All of this makes it even funnier that Peacemaker is still very much just John Cena. Character designs aside, Suicide Squad Isekai only seems to look good when it wants to; most of the moment-to-moment stuff looks a bit muted but absolutely pops off when business picks up. There’s even a flashback sequence of Deadshot and Ratcatcher that has a sort of loose, crumbly Masaaki Yuasa look to it. Despite the genericism of the setting and inconsistency of the aesthetic, though, Suicide Squad Isekai still carries plenty of style with it. The intro and outro are both blasts; I didn’t realize until the season ended that the “Tank!”-style OP was by Tomoyasu Hotei, the composer of the most iconic piece of music from Kill Bill. The ED (content warning: Mori Calliope) heavily features Amanda Waller getting down in ways I can only hope to one day see Viola Davis recreate. 

The fusion of American and Japanese styles is definitely awkward at times; the occasional references to other Warner Bros properties like Lord of the Rings and Tom and Jerry feel particularly shoehorned in considering this is a Japanese production, but the voice cast makes up for a lot of faults. Anna Nagase captures Harley’s freewheeling energy perfectly, and her penchant for nicknames is extra cute in Japanese when she’s calling the Joker “Purin-chan” or King Shark “Nana-chan.” Jun Fukuyama is a real standout as Clayface, channeling the flashy spirit of Joker (not this one, the Persona 5 one) to animate Basil Karlo’s irritating showmanship. Takehito Koyasu as Peacemaker doesn’t quite have the self-serious goofy energy we’ve come to expect from the live action version, but it’s such funny casting on its face that I don’t really mind. Can this tradeoff go both ways? I want John Cena as DIO yesterday.

For a Studio WIT production and a story by Re:Zero’s writers, Suicide Squad Isekai may occasionally feel like less than the sum of its parts (par for the course for the property’s recent adaptations, unfortunately, save for the Gunn film), but if you don’t come at it expecting too much you’ll have a good time. Far from my favorite this year, but it’s a crowd pleaser, and those, I like.

[rileyslibrary]

i don't know if you've already gotten this but if you haven't can you please make a part 3 to the ghost and Lt fic? it was so, so good, you had me on the edge of my seat the entire time. jealous ghost is everything i never knew i needed and more. your writing is just too good that i have to know what happens next. thanks! 🫶

Hey reader! Glad you liked it! I wrote something quick for ya but I’m afraid there’s a more sensible Ghost in this one. It’s how I’d like to finish the “new Lt.” Saga. Oh well, hope you like this one as much as the last one! 🍫

Synopsis: Captain Price’s decision to put you with Ghost and Lt. Wilson in the same room serves more as a punishment to you than to them. You have Price’s number on speed dial, ready to pull the trigger.

Relationship: Simon “Ghost” Riley x F!Reader

Word Count: 1,033

Notes:

This is the final part of the story. Here’s Part 1, and Part 2.

Warning: The usual swearing.

Want more?

———————————————————————

Captain Price came into your office the day of the conflict and “made a few arrangements,” as he—very politely—said. These “arrangements” weren’t a big deal to an outsider, but enough for the three of you to be on edge.

And that tension didn’t come in the form of profanities or fist punches and yells. It was a lingering tension. Like the smell of fresh coffee in the morning as you walk down the stairs to the hotel’s breakfast area. Only it wasn’t coffee you smelled in this room; it was a combination of some leftover bitterness and unresolved conflict, mixed with the smell of iodine that both regularly applied on their—physical—wounds. Because the other type of wounding that Captain Price inflicted on them was pretty hard to be fixed with mere antiseptics and bandages. It seems like the Captain’s decision really hurt their ego.

See, Captain Price had this fantastic ability to make you feel small and insignificant just by smiling at you. He wasn’t direct like Ghost was. No. He was very subtle with his scolding if he ever did such a thing. He was the kind of person who would deliver criticism in the form of tropes, planting seeds in your mind so you would discover later on that they flourished and became trees filled with ripe fruit. A strong supporter of fixing something rather than scrapping and starting from the beginning, he decided not only to allocate Lt. Wilson in the same office as you and Ghost but to sit them next to each other, elbow-to-elbow.

Have you ever seen two kids whose parents have just scolded them? Sure you have; you’re looking at them right now as they sit before you.

One still wears his balaclava, with one black eye peaking out. He’s resting his head on the one hand, reading through some papers. He seems defensive but also embarrassed. Can you blame him? He not only jeopardised and almost risked his position in such an exuberant way, but having his arch nemesis as a “work buddy” was enough for him to build up his walls.

The other is bruised around the eyes due to him suffering a kick straight to the nose. He seems angry, but you’d be too if a giant beast jumped you from across the table. He moves frantically, pushing buttons on the laptop’s keyboard like a passionate pianist delivering his solo to an audience. His demeanour had changed dramatically as well. There was no more flirting, no unnecessary winking or pointing finger guns. He acted like a… soldier, for once.

And you? You were a wallflower. Trying to make as little noise as possible, closing drawers quietly, as if a newborn is sleeping next to you, not asking much, and peaking over your computer’s screen to monitor their behaviour, just like Captain Price ordered you.

“Are you trying to punch through the desk with your fingers, man?” Ghost asks Wilson, and you immediately tense up.

“‘This piece of shit doesn’t save my document,” Wilson replies while repeatedly pushing the same key.

You grab your phone. Captain Price gave you his number and advised you to call him immediately if things were about to take a wrong turn.

“I don’t care what you’re trying to achieve on that thing,” Ghost says, “but you’re pretty successful in pissing me off right now.”

Your heart jumps to your throat, and you unlock your phone.

“I’m not doing it on purpose, man!” Wilson exclaims, “though can’t say I’m not chuffed for doing that to you.” He continues smirking.

“What a fucking prick,” Ghost says and slides his chair to Wilson’s desk. “Let me show you.”

You shoot yourself up and show them your phone with Captain Price’s phone ready on speed dial.

“ONE MORE MOVE, AND I CALL PRICE.” You shout, and they both turn to look at you dumbfounded.

“What the fuck is wrong with you, doll?” Wilson yells back, “Lt. Is trying to help.”

“The hell, love?” Ghost agrees and raises his hands in the air in a stance of innocence, “here, look,” he says, putting one hand on the mouse and the other on Wilson’s keyboard.

“Tsk, tsk, tsk.” Wilson mutters and turns to Ghost, “is this how we’re gonna have them every day?”

“Beats me, man.” Ghost replies, “can’t make a move anymore.”

You look at Wilson, then turn to Ghost, then back to Wilson. Neither is paying attention to you. Ghost is explaining to Wilson that he removed the “.docx” extension, and that’s why he couldn’t save the document. Wilson thanks him, and Ghost nods. He slides his chair back to his desk.

“You play football, by the way?” Wilson asks Ghost.

“I do,” Ghost nods, “how’d you know?”

“That kick,” Wilson explains, “was like you shot a penalty.”

Ghost briefly chuckles, “don’t make me laugh,” he says, “my tooth hurts.”

“From the punch?” Wilson asks, laughing, and Ghost nods. “I can give you my dentist’s contact details,” Wilson suggests, “he’s brilliant at fixing teeth.”

Ghost gives him a thumbs up and immediately lifts his index finger to form a gun, “appreciate it, mate,” he says.

He appreciates it? Wh- mate? F- finger guns? It just occurred to you that you’re still standing, holding that phone close to your chest.

“Right, I’ll go make us all some tea!” Wilson says as he stands up and claps his hands.

You both look at him exiting the room, then turn at each other.

I know what you’re about to say,” Ghost begins, “but let me explain first.”

You furrow your eyebrows and place your phone on your desk. “Please do, Simon.” You say and cross your arms over your chest.

“There’re two options here,” he says, tilting his head to the side. “I either attempt to put some sense to the guy for continuing to call you doll, which will result in Captain kicking me out for good”, he explains. “Or,” he continues, tilting his head to the other side, “I bite the bullet and bare his nonsense just so I can continue being here.”

You blush and smile at him. “Here?” You ask.

“Yes, here,” he replies and meets your gaze, “with you.”

———————————————————————

[cheolsblackgf]

office encounters [l.jh]

⇒ woozi x reader

⇒ word count: 3.8k (including the bonus)

⇒ warnings: just some insults but nothing too crazy

⇒ content: office romance; rivals to lovers; some kissing yadda yadda; little bit of girl bossing

⇒ note: hello pls don’t @ me about how long it’s been i already know.. didn’t think this would mark my return bc i wrote this almost a year ago but lowkey i kinda cooked with this one so i thought i’d share.. also side note PLEASE come to my inbox if you find an error bc i literally proofread like 14 times looking for this one error i saw before but it just disappeared or smth idk so if you find it i’ll give you a brownie!!! anyways 시작해볼까요

“You look pretty today.”

Jihoon from corporate communication usually has a sarcastic quip for you when you cross paths in the copy room. Where humor comes easy for him, annoyance comes easy for you the same. You both seem to get on each other’s nerves in all the right ways; never enough to report the other to HR, but enough that you’d steer clear of him the entire day if he said something that got under your skin. Something like, “Why’s marketing’s posters suck so bad?” He’ll ask, and subsequently answer himself with, “Oh, that’s right. ‘Cause you’re the one making them.” Either he doesn’t know you spend so much time figuring out which design looks best, or he knows and purposely wants to get you riled up. It works, because you’re an emotional person and if someone criticizes your work, it feels like a personal attack.

This time, though, you’re making flyers for the office yard sale slash fundraiser, and he’s making copies of coupons for the local stores. Since there are about forty floors in your building, you’ll easily be occupied for at least two hours, hanging multiple flyers on each floor. Jihoon has his hands full as well, he makes one hundred copies for each store, with there being four stores total in the area. Luckily, you go to the copier first, so when he walks in, you quickly rest with a smug smile on your face.

“Hey,” he says casually. You’re waiting for him to tell you to hurry your ass up on the copier but he doesn’t. Hey?

Instead, you respond, “Hi,” and turn back to the copier to see how many sheets are left. Still sixty five.

“You look pretty today.” He tries next. You almost hit cancel on the print job right then and there. How can he say something like that. You look pretty today? Try again, Lee! It’s not gonna work!

You don’t immediately thank him for his compliment. You just think that somehow, he’ll add in a “—pretty ugly!” and then laugh it off. That’s the Jihoon you know. Not this “hey” man. Usually when you walk into the copy room, he groans and rolls his eyes. He always has a dig ready, too. “Didn’t realise it was loser day at the copy machine.” He’d say. You always have something to come back at him with. “Must be why you’re here.” It doesn’t seem like he’ll bicker with you today at all.

The display on the machine says there’s still forty sheets left. That means you can either pretend you left something at your desk and quickly exit the room until it’s done, or you can brave it and see what this guy is up to.

The second one. “I look pretty today? What are you up to?” You narrow your eyes at him, assuming there’s either a catch or some sort of joke hidden in his praise.

“No gimmicks,” he shrugs. “I just call it like I see it.” Oh, okay.

He’s standing on one side of the machine with you at the other. The polite smile stained on his face drives you up a wall. You feel like if you reciprocate it, it’ll be overkill. Him complimenting you doesn’t change the fact that you are office enemies. His team and your team often clash, as they’re the ones that share your team’s ideas with the higher ups, only after an intense filtering which often strips your ideas down to nothing. It always sucks because he acts so smug about it when your ideas don’t get pitched how you envisioned them. “Get some better ideas then,” he’d say. Of course, you can’t go out like that, so you tell him “Tell your team to think of one idea to begin with. You get your rocks off by stealing ours, your department would be helpless without us.” It’s mostly true, but sometimes, Jihoon has good ideas. When you two are having a good day, you’ll show each other ideas and give helpful feedback. But that usually doesn’t happen if either one of you has a quip locked and loaded already.

“Didn’t realise your mouth was able to produce compliments when it comes to me.” Twenty two sheets left. He reaches over you for the mini scotch tape. “You know, usually when someone compliments you, you just say thank you and forget about it in five minutes.” While he focuses on his task with the tape, you stare at the display on the copier and watch the number of sheets remaining go down, just so you don’t have to look at him.

He’s never called you pretty before. You need everyone to understand this. The only times he compliments you are rare and they’re always work related. Nice job during that tug of war. Those prints look great. These tchotchke designs would surely sell well. The dessert you brought to the potluck was delicious.

New to the list: you look pretty today.

You’re not sure how to feel internally, but externally, your mind is already made up. You’re annoyed. How could he say something like that with such a serious face and not be joking? Why couldn’t he be joking?

“I would say thank you, but I don’t know what this is.” He raises his eyebrows at your comment. “This? I don’t know what it is either because I can’t figure out what you’re talking about.”

The copier chimes to tell you the print job is finished. You log out of the machine and move aside to collect your sheets. You’ll definitely have to make a second trip—and perhaps with a box of some sort to hold all of the sheets—but you just want to leave this room.

Jihoon starts to grab a stack of the sheets as well. “Where are these going?” He asks, sounding nothing but sincere.

“Don’t know yet. I have to put them on each floor, though. I’ll find something to put them in in a little bit.”

“D’you need help?”

You set the sheets down. “Okay, listen. I was fine playing that game three minutes ago, but I don’t get it. Every day you look at me like the bane of your existence. You tell me my designs suck, you only fill my tea mug halfway when I ask for some, and you hog the copy machine whenever I need to use it. What gives?”

It would be hard to refute the fact that Jihoon is very handsome, and you have imagined an alternate universe where he was nice to you and even flirted with you, but nothing past that. You’ve never thought of what it would be like to be his girlfriend, to wake up in the morning beside him, to have him fill your tea mug up until it’s full, to meet in the copy room to steal a few extra kisses—okay, maybe a couple times you’ve thought of this. But it almost always gets overshadowed by his behaviour towards you. He is rude to you. He doesn’t like you enough to give up the act, but he also doesn’t hate you enough to ignore you completely. He has some sort of balance that only works with you. He playfully fights with other coworkers, but only as a stand-alone. Your feud is cemented into the very foundations of the building you each show up to every morning at seven o’clock on the dot. It’s ritualistic. It’s familiar. It sucks.

Jihoon leans against the wall and crosses his arms. “What gives? I just think you look pretty today. Can’t a man compliment his pretty coworker once? It’s really not that unheard of, but if you think something else is going on, you’re right. I like you. I never said it before because I assumed you also liked me which is why we do what we do, but I’m getting the feeling you don’t feel the same way which is fine. We can just go back to how we were and forget this ever happened.”

You take the stack of copies you were holding before and quickly leave the room. Once they’re placed on your desk, you awkwardly make your way back to the copy room and get the next set of sheets. Jihoon hasn’t moved from his position against the wall even after you’ve signed off of the machine and relocated the copies out of the way.

Truthfully, you just didn’t know what to say. Him confessing this way was not only unexpected, but also a bit annoying. To think, he’s liked you all this time but consistently and routinely found enjoyment in belittling you. Granted, you also took part in it against him, but only as retaliation and defense for yourself. The whole reason this rivalry started was because he made a comment against you. Why would you be mean to someone you like?

The week goes by slowly without Jihoon’s teasing. He comes by your cubicle once to offer you a mini cupcake from the convenience store on the fifth floor. You decline. He doesn’t come back again.

You thought of pulling him aside to really unpack and discuss everything, but then you consider how much worse it could get if you do that. Things are already pretty bad if neither of you have spoken or even just said hi to each other.

By Friday of the next week, though, you’ve had it with the silence. Your cubicle conveniently is in view of the copy room so you slyly watch the door waiting for Jihoon to go in there. He always prints to-do sheets on Friday for everyone in his department for the following week. At eleven on the dot, you see him disappear in there and you make your move immediately, booking it for the room.

You casually walk in and shut the door, but not before making sure no one was coming. No one really likes it when the door to the copy room is shut because people have been caught doing … things in there, but this shouldn’t take you long. Definitely not enough time to do … things with anyone.

“Hey,” You try, in the same tone as he used with you last week. He looks up from the machine and gives you a confused yet tired look. “What are you doing?” He sighs.

“You look pretty today.” You smile, hopping up on the counter and swinging your legs. He finishes signing in on the printer and runs his print job. He turns around to face you fully. “If you’re here to make fun of me for being nice to you, I think it’s best you stop now because I don’t find it amusing.”

You grin at him. “The opposite actually. I think it’s cute that you like me, but I really wish you would’ve asked me on a date first. And maybe just been nicer to begin with?” Both your eyes dart to the door as a polite knock is heard from the outside. You jump down from the counter and place your hands on Jihoon’s shoulders from behind. Your head rounds the side of his face. “Walk me to my car later?” And he agrees.

You go to let the person in and see yourself out. It feels a bit elementary, that proposal. Walk me to my car? gives the same energy as walk me home from the bus stop? and if you weren’t already getting some twisted wave of déjà vu, you definitely are now.

You didn’t know Jihoon until last year when he started working for this company. The previous person in his position suffered an extreme illness that forced them to resign so he promptly had to fill their position. He wasn’t trained that well, but he’s done the best he could thus far. You don’t know what you would do if he wasn’t in the office. Of course, some of your coworkers are also people you get drinks with from time to time, but Jihoon feels the most… familiar. Despite having never met with him outside of the office, he feels like the most grounding person since he doesn’t put on any front or act with you. You wouldn’t let him either. That’s why his confession feels so out of left field on the one hand, but normal on the other. He doesn’t hide how he feels from you, but he must have if he’s liked you and hasn’t said it until now.

Later comes. It’s 3:42 PM when you finally wrap it up for the day. Jihoon usually leaves earlier than you, but it appears he waited to clock out so you two would leave at the same time.

Okay, you’ll admit that’s sweet. You don’t think you’d do the same for him, but only because you don’t like your job enough to stay any later.

He meets you at your cubicle. “All done?” He asks, moving into your space to help you with your things. “Yep. If you could just carry this bag for me, that would be great, thank you.” He takes the bag from you with no qualms and waits patiently as you gather the rest of your belongings.

You were sadly unable to finish all the work you meant to get done today, so you’re leaving with a bit of homework—namely designing some flyers for part two of the yard sale slash fundraiser. The first fundraiser didn’t go as planned, so the upper level management suggested a second instalment.

Jihoon probably has the same amount of work too, so you wonder how he’s leaving the office empty handed.

On the elevator ride down, neither of you say anything. All you do is stare at the bright red floor descent display and wait until it gets to 1. Upon this happening, Jihoon lets you off first and you lead the way to the parking garage.

“I take it you didn’t get a lot done today?” He wonders, surveying the various items you’re carrying. “Sadly. Honestly, if Claudette hadn’t announced the second fundraiser, I’d be as carefree and empty handed as you.” You meant to come off as nonchalant, but judging by the way Jihoon completely stopped in his tracks upon your completion of the sentence, it was everything but that. “Carefree and empty handed?” He parrots in disbelief.

“CC is scrambling to get Q3 numbers up before having to report to corporate and nothing is working. Honestly, if Claudette didn’t conjure up another fundraiser, you would’ve had to find another sad sap to carry your things to your car because I wouldn’t be here right now.” He explains, which makes you laugh a bit but otherwise frown. You didn’t realise the company’s numbers were so far down that the fundraiser is essentially a double edged sword, but you figured it couldn’t have been for no reason.

Jihoon has always been very efficient with his work, even if about two months ago (maybe even less) you would’ve scoffed and said otherwise. “You’ll figure it out. You always do.” You say, meaning to be encouraging but not entirely sure if it came off that way. “Thanks. You too.”

With your hands full, you couldn’t grab your keys to unlock your car so you have Jihoon do it for you. “Where is this bag going?” He holds it up just in case you forgot which bag it is. “Uh, you can just throw it in the backseat. Well, don’t literally throw it but um—”

“I got it.” He chuckles at your disorganised thoughts.

Once all of your things are settled in the car, you close everything up and stand face to face with Jihoon. “Thank you for the help, I really appreciate it.” You say. “Anytime. I hope you get all your work done.” You reflect the wish back to him. Sadly, you guys just awkwardly stand there for a bit before realising this conversation is not going anywhere else.

“Well, I guess I’ll see you tomorrow, hm? You have my number, right?” He nods and bids you goodbye. You get into your car but don’t start it. Instead, you watch through your rearview mirror as Jihoon turns the corner to the staircase. Had you known his car was on a different level, you would’ve offered to drop him off since the parking garage’s elevator is out of commission. However, in hindsight, the conversation was already awkward enough.

Later that night, you two text back and forth for multiple hours. All the way until 2AM you guys were exchanging messages. He’s really a sweet guy even over text.

At 2:19, he texts you goodnight and says he’ll see you in the morning.

In the morning, like you expected, you see Jihoon milling about the office floor. He sends you a wave, but his hands are full so it’s nothing more than that. You try to catch him to offer your help, but he disappears in an instant.

The flyers you were supposed to make were only half done because most of your time last night was spent talking to Jihoon. You’re extremely guilty, and you feel horrible because you know all the work you have will carry into the weekend, but you made your bed.

Eventually, Jihoon visits you at your cubicle and apologises for keeping you up last night. “It’s not your fault. I wanted to talk to you.” He smiles at this and gives your shoulder a supportive pat. “You’ll get it done.”

For the rest of the day, he leaves you alone—other than bringing you a mug of tea—and honestly, that was for the best. You do manage to catch up on and finish all the work so you text Jihoon the good news. He suggests ice cream after work to celebrate and you agree.

Your manager stops by your cubicle to compliment your hard work. “And I saw you being extra smiley with Jihoon. Good luck.” Before you can refute her statement with any type of defense, she disappears.

Extra smiley. Hm.

At the end of the day, Jihoon meets you at your cubicle once again and this time, you don’t have anything for him to carry except your comically large tote bag that you bring into the office everyday. Before you two leave, you grab your heels from under your desk that you change out of everyday upon arrival to the office. You attempt to put them in your bag, but Jihoon shakes his head. “Put those on.”

“Why?”

“We’re going out to dinner. As a date.” He reveals. You drop the heels back on the floor. “You really are a sad sap.” You remark, sliding one of your sneakers off. “Not for everyone.”

“So you’re saying I’m special?”

“Something like that, yeah.” He speaks nonchalantly. Coming from him, though, these words mean a lot to you. Ever since his initial confession, you can tell not all of his confidence is there. But it’s your goal to show him that he doesn’t have to try as hard, he’s already got you.

As you struggle with getting your sock off, Jihoon groans. “Hurry up, the reservation is for six o’clock.”

You raise an eyebrow. “Reservation? Wow, you must really like me.” He watches as you slip the other heel on. “You know that already. Come on.” He grabs your hand and leads you to the elevator. You press the down button and wait for the elevator to come up. In that time, Jihoon takes your bag from you and fixes the wrinkles in your dress.

The two of you step into the elevator and after hitting 1, the doors close and it begins its descent. In the reflective doors, Jihoon stares at you. “You’re so pretty.” He says. “Am I?” You respond. He nods. “Thank you, my sad sap.” You add, pausing for dramatic effect.

“Okay, you were pretty until about five seconds ago.” He clarifies, but holds your hand tighter all the while. He thinks maybe you’re right, he is a sad sap. But only when it comes to you.

[the end]

SIKEEEEE

BONUS

You’re almost giggling on your way to the copy room. As soon as you saw Jihoon go in there, you knew it was your cue. It wasn’t any type of plan or anything, but lately, you guys have only been able to meet in the copy room because everyone has gotten extremely suspicious of you guys and you didn’t wanna say anything.

As soon as you make it to the room, you shut the door and see your boyfriend already working on the machine. You hop up and make your place on the counter while Jihoon does his thing. “Clear?” He asks with his back to you. “Clear. For now. Come here.” You hold your arms out just as he turns to you and he makes his way over. “Missed you last night.” You whisper. He leans in to your embrace and presses a kiss to your lips. “Me too. Let’s get dinner tonight.” All your plans with Jihoon have been spontaneous because the workload has been unpredictable lately. If you both end the day with no incomplete assignments, you’ll go out and do something together, but if not, you save it for another day.

His print job ends and he reluctantly breaks away from you to go grab his copies. There’s only maybe twenty in the stack, but he asks you if you have any to make. You hand him the sheet you’re copying and he starts it up for you while you wait patiently on the counter. You zone out to the sound of Jihoon clicking around on the printer settings, so much so that you don’t hear him when he asks you how many copies you need. He asks again, “How many copies, baby?”

“Oh! Sorry, thirty-six please.” He’s not annoyed you weren’t listening. In fact, he smiles a little bit and is amused.

He inputs the amount you need and waits for the machine to start printing before making his way back to you. “What do you feel like for dinner?” He asks, caging you in with his arms. “Not sure, but not seafood.”

He pouts. “But baby, I love seafood.”

“Then you can go get seafood and I’ll stay home and watch Queen of Tears.” He gasps at this idea. Even though you’re not serious, he fakes being upset for a second.

A moment later, the door opens and your manager Claudette walks in. She doesn’t see you two right away, but once she does, she says “Oh brother,” and walks right out. She leaves the door open and you can hear her call out to someone else and say, “You owe me twenty dollars!”

You and Jihoon exchange a look. “Who do you think she’s talking to?” You ask him. He pauses for a second and moves away from you. “Me.”

“What?” But he’s already on his way out of the room. “See you later!” He doesn’t realise that he’s forgotten his copies so you’ll definitely be seeing him again soon.

The office will definitely be on fire by tomorrow with this news, you’re already aware. On the bright side, though, you can finally celebrate your first public couple activity: getting bullied by the entire office.

[the end (real)]

masterlist

[dragonsoulage]

Fighting with his beloved nurse...

feat. Giyuu Tomioka

Giyuu is not used to people that like him and that are concerned for him. He does not even understand why you were angry when he got hurt a little too bad for your taste. Afraid he would need to split apart from his favourite nurse. So you two ended up arguing

Hello world I am still sick but I wrote a little Giyuu stuff here. Idk why I feel like he always would think he is not good enough, poor boy so we need to show him that he is precious ✨ anyways I still suck in proof reading but have fun. That's just the first time I wrote something for Demon Slayer 💖

Wordcount: 2,0 k

Warnings: fluff, fighting, a little suggestive in the end

The situation was kinda frustrating. He just came back from a mission a few days ago.

You were a nurse around from the butterfly estate. Stunning, gorgeous, breathtaking...all these words that popped in Giyuus head when you appeared in his sight. But not only that, you were indeed a kind soul. Always gifting him with the sweetest smiles of all when he returned.

Slowly over the years you build a connection with him. He was a cold man, not really social, so it was not that easy. But you were kind from the bottom of your heart. Not even could harm a fly.

Patients you card for all said the same, you were an angel walking on earth.

But even angels can be mad, right?

You and Giyuu, never really named what this was between you two.

All you knew was that when he came back from a mission, and you saw him, you came walking toward him in a quick pace. Hugging him so tight to make sure he was really there. And Giyuu? He always breathed in your scent. One hand on your face needing to look in the depth of your orbs to make sure, you were there and wouldn't leave, like everyone else.

He grew attached, more than that he loved you. He cared deeply, and yet saying it out loud felt so dangerous.

That poor boy was afraid you would slip away when he wasn't careful enough. Although you would never fade, for what reason?

He may be quiet, but he listened to you, he loved when you were yapping around. Or even the deep talk you two had sometimes in the middle of the night, when you slipped into his room after your late night shift was done.   

But right now? Oh, you were mad. And why? He did his job, as a Hashira eliminated a demon.

But when he had been coming back it was so close that he could've died, you were freaking out...because you were afraid. "Don't act like that would've been nothing. Look at you." you scolded him, as he stood in front of you. You looked everywhere except his eyes.

"I did my job, you are fully aware that I am a demon slayer, what is the trouble. That's not the first time I come back and not be unharmed." he asked, his voice sounded nonchalant.

He wasn't sure how to respond to your subtle anger, especially not when he was wounded.

Probably he didn't even understand the fact that you liked him so much, that you were actually worried. You sighted trying to make the bandage sit a little better.

"Are you mad?" he asked you then, he sat there shirtless as you personally took care of his wounds. Just a little more to the left and his wound would have been critical. You didn't just see Giyyu as a demon slayer or Hashira anymore. You were afraid that someday, he wouldn't come back. Furthermore, you never doubted his talent, but you were worried.

"Do I look happy?" you asked him back, shortly narrowing your eyes. Now he sighted, he thought he did something wrong. Disappointing? Fighting not hard enough? Being not good enough because he was harmed?

These were his thoughts, although it was quite the opposite.

"You don't." he replied curtly, with a heavy voice, his head was making scenarios.

"Right I am not, when that demon would have hit you just a little more left....you would have been dangerously wounded." you meant while you reached around his torso for the bandage. 

  "I endured worse things. I don't understand why you are making a fuss." probably this was not the answer you wanted to hear. Or that anyone want to hear. You loved him, cared so deep for him. It was not a fuss, at least not for you. You saw a lot of demon slayers die in your job, and you didn't want to have him on the list. You were done with the bandage and looked at him, sad eyes coupled with angry ones.

"A fuss? Is that what you think I do when you get back?" You asked him, your voice carried a hint of annoyance. Both of you kinda talking, not straight to the topic. You were worried, and he thought he was not good enough.

"(Y/N)...you patch me up. You come looking for me, I don't mean that you don't do your duty as nurse I..." Giyuu was lost for words. Well, what happened when he came back?

Yeah, it was you, you took your sweet time patching him up carefully. Listened to his dangerous adventure and after that? Showering him with praise and kisses, just to see how badly wounded he is and when it was not, that exhausting, you gifted him with passionate nights.

He grew accustomed to this routine, always wanting to be good for you. Not a lot of people liked him or took even interest in him. Not at all. He was just so afraid he would lose you, before he had the chance to acknowledge his feelings.

"We both know I do more than that...it's not what I meant." you said, and you were done patching him up at least as good as it could get now, because after this he stood up, ignored the pain in his ribs just to take his haori and put it on.

Giyuus face had a slight scowl in his brows, his black long ponytail just slightly disheveled from the journey back and the exhaustion. The bandage around his lower torso, his strong chest showing off even when the haori was already over his shoulders. He made his way to the door.

"I know that we...we are having a thing. That you do more than every other nurse in this estate would do. I just don't understand what is different now then before...." maybe he even mumbled that to himself. With a sigh he opened the door ready to go outside, he was not good dealing with arguments. Not that he couldn't say anything, but with you, it was different. He didn't want to say the wrong thing. He couldn't even bear the face you made. This was when it hit you, he was not going because he was angry too, he was going because he was afraid he fucked up and didn't even know why. Your steps then went fast over to him, and you grabbed the door with your hand before you stopped him from leaving. Gently closing it. "What do you think will happen when we fight, Tomioka?" you asked him, clearly a whole different topic than before. You looked a little strict but your features softer now.   

  Should he be honest? That he was simply afraid he did something truly wrong and lost you? Well, this was at least what he was thinking. Losing that pretty nurse, that made him feel...loved.

"We split, isn't it like that? Not that it would be a surprise." he spoke then, looking everywhere, but not in your face.

"Look at me, when you talk to me. I taught you manners." you meant, it was sounding a little sharp but with that edge...you were softer now. You saw what his problem had been, he didn't got the fact that you were concerned for him, afraid he could die. You liked him too...maybe even more than like. Then Giyuu looked up, poor boy, he was so distance and cold until he met you. He loved your warmth, the way you made him feel prickly in his chest. The way you smiled, the way you brushed strands of his raven hair out of his face. The way your waist felt in his hands, when he pulled you close. The way you smelled when he nuzzled his face in your neck.

"Giyuu..." you started and used his first name, your sweet voice filled with a little regret that you didn't see it that he was insecure, afraid to even.

"Just because I am mad don't mean we split... I am sorry when I made you feel unwanted. It was not-" before you could even finish, he stepped closer, his one hand reaching out cupping your cheek. It was even enough for him to hear that you don't split. You were his only person he wanted to have close now, where he allowed himself to be close.

"You didn't make me feel unwanted. It was just...the way you scolded me, making me...fear I did something that upset you so much you would change your mind about me." he said to you, his voice was now lower. "And I don't want to upset you. I just can't change the fact that fighting demons is my job, and apparently I am quite good at it." he added.

You laid your hand over his. It was a tender gesture. Nearly like all the tension flew away suddenly.   

  "I was just afraid... I don't want to lose you. You know? I see demon slayers die every day... I like you, you know. You don't complain about my yapping, the way you hold me close. I like all these things, and I was just concerned. Sorry that it overwhelm me and that I was being too hard to you." alone the fact that you apologized because you maybe reacted a little over in such a moment. The fact you spoke out you didn't want to lose him, that you liked him. Giyuu was anything than good at expressing his feelings. He pulled you just a little closer to give you such a loving kiss on your forehead. Before his forehead rested against yours. He took a deep breath.

"Actually (Y/N), I like you more than just...like. That is why I fear you wouldn't keep me around when I wasn't good enough." it was a little plain, not the passionate confessing others dreamed off. But it was his confession. The way he told you he loved you.

"You are a Hashira, you are one of the best, the best. My best." you answered him before you then reached out and placed a kiss on his lips. It was sweet at first, all the feeling you two had poured into this kiss. All at once. Then your hands slid up his bare chest. You felt his muscles tensing slightly, the way he shivered when your cold fingertips went over his skin. Before you laid your hands around the back of his neck.

"So we are going back to the usual routine when you patch me up?" he then asked, with flushed cheeks his one hand had grabbed gently your waist pulling you closer. He was still injured, and in pain, at least with certain movements. He just spoke in between the kiss, loving the way your lips felt against his.

"Depends on how much are you hurt?" you asked in between before gently guiding him back to the bed for patients. Where he sat down. Looking up at you with such ocean eyes. It was always so cute when he blushed because he was excited. "Not that much...you could be on top." He suggested with a tone kinda desperate for you. He would lie when he said he wouldn't love the fact that after you patched him up that you gave him such a delightful treatment. You guided him to lay down and straddled his lap, your cute nurse skirt rising up a little, and his hands went to the new exposed creamy skin he found. Rough hands caressing you. You then tilted your head just a little. Maybe one round he could take before he really should rest. "Oh, is that so? Not so much? Well while I will try to make you feel better, you can just continue to tell me how much you like me, that's a deal right?" Your voice was sweet when you said that, the whole argument forgotten, but of course not the fact that he admitted he liked you more than just a bit. And you would use this now to your advantage and gifting him with his beloved patching up routine...  

[fleshwerks]

Thank you for your rant posts on DAV. They’ve been cathartic to read as they echo so many of my own issues with the game and how it treats its own lore and insults its fanbase. I feel stupid for caring about the oppression of mages and elves given how they sanitized and wrote out these cornerstones of the Thedas setting and it sucks! Im glad I’m not alone.

I had very little hope for this game given its mess of a dev cycle and how the company has bled talent, I thought it would be a very messy narrative as a result. And it is! But it’s worse, because it’s not just messy, it commits the greatest cardinal sin of writing: it’s boring.

I think you nailed it. I'm at the same point as you, especially as someone who's huge into DA lore and the intrauniverse sociopolitics, as well as the expected (foolishly) aspect of your deeds mattering, either positively or negatively.

I have a whole ass Inquisitor who can now stop feeling bad in his steppe-sky burial about his indecisiveness during his tenure as an Inquisitor: BECAUSE NONE OF IT MATTERED ANYWAY. 'Oh, you delayed some suffering for like, what, 7 years? 7 years is nothing when you're doomed anyway. I can already hear the argument "but what you do even in short term matters, too."

Yes, in real life. But I don't do RPGs for real life. I play RPGs to be able to fantasise about doing a bit more than I can do in real life.

On top of it just about everybody being so blasé about what's going on. This is the worst blight ever, two actual gods are loose, but here we are at the dinner table, arguing about Taash' mom being a strict, traditional jerkass and Bellara joining the list of people who hate themselves for having ADHD, and holding her hand through it. Boring.

Veilguard commits another sin: everybody blames themselves for everything, but it either gets fixed for them, or they're feeling sorry and do the thing they feel so sorry about anyway.

My kingdom for a character who can go 'it is what it is, I'm not perfect, but I'm not sorry for existing and having an impact on this world, especially if the impact is caused by something I couldn't really control; all that matters is what we do next.' Which would open up the world at wide: tackling things that make your personal issues microbial in comparison. These people don't have the luxury of crying into their chicken soup. Not to say these things can't be addressed, but in Dragon Age, characters are supposed to support the overarching plot and the worldbuilding. Instead, the world puts itself on hold until you've solved Lucanis' granny issues or whatever.

If you've ever watched campaign 3 of Critical Role, that series has the same issue. The cast is made up of people who by and large have no real connection to the world or the overarching plot, and a large part of the viewerbase has come down onto the same idea: if the characters don't really care and only keep reacting, and reacting with quippiness and laughs and occasional 'oh no, that's bad, right? Anyway,'... why should we care?

Why should I care? Because everything I cared about as a player has been deleted, and the cast of Veilguard is mostly just dicking around until the plot reminds them that hey: we have the worst apocalypse going on since Solas deleted Elvhenan. Can we like... react more to it? We can do the therapy sessions later when people have stopped dying.

Disclaimer: I fully acknowledge that I'm going off on a tangent and I'm most likely projecting and reading into it too much/not reading into it enough. But that's the problem. Most players will play it once. You can't rely on subsequent playthroughs to make someone care.

Worst part is, companions aren't even boring. They're just miscast for this particular plot, exacerbated by what BW did to all the established lore. The tonality of the game itself and its place in DA canon is just wack.

I'm likely being incredibly unfair, but there's something to investigate here, because if you've failed to bring players into the lore and invest themselves in such numbers, it isn't just Mari here talking shit, it's a wider problem. Lest we forget, your fiction, your work stops being 'only yours' the moment you publish it and allow people play with your toys. The author is king, but the author is only the king of their own version of their story. The moment it's read and played by many, it's not just your story anymore, it's everybody's, who's engaging with it.

God dammit my English literature and language degree is catching up with me, I've turned into That Guy. Uck.

[tarysande]

Yesterday, I was at a writing festival—as an attendee, a presenter, and a representative of the two organizations (one writing, one editing) of which I’m on the board/executive.

I spoke to a lot of people. People with hopes and aspirations and niggling little voices in the backs of their heads saying “Hey, maybe you could do this, be this, try this.” For a little while, anyway, these people were able to let the positive “hey maybe” voice override the “IMPOSTER ALERT” voice, but so often I could practically SEE that inner critic trying to get out.

Hell, I have an “IMPOSTER ALERT” voice, too. We all do. Especially those of us brave enough to be writers and artists and creators, to put these pieces of our souls and hearts and guts out there for others to see and judge.

Yesterday reminded me that sometimes all a person needs to turn things around, to SEE themselves as artists, is a friendly, welcoming, kind face saying “There’s no maybe about it—you belong here. Of course you belong here. You wrote some words? You’re a writer. You’re playing with a new literary form? You’re brave. And you’re a writer! You’re nervous or scared or doubting—so are we!”

Yesterday, I talked to a bunch of strangers about some of those hopes and dreams they’re carrying around, and I got to see their eyes light up when I acknowledged their creativity and bravery and tenacity. I got to gently correct a few people who ducked their heads while saying “I’m not a REAL writer,” by reminding them that they ARE. They write. They’re writers. They’re at a writing festival! They’re writers. Maybe they’re at the beginning of their journeys, but they’ve taken so many steps already! Sometimes we just need someone else to remind us of that.

I’ve always known that enthusiasm is my superpower. Yesterday I got to use that power for so so so much good and, god, did it feel amazing. I kinda can’t wait to see what happens next. ❤️

[everythingacotarbxm1012]

Do That Again

Summary - You meet a certain fellow after your roommate starts dating some guy.

Content Warnings - Language, heavy drinking, characters getting drunk, underaged drinking (please tell me if I missed anything)

A/N - I wrote this mostly because there are definitely a lack of Cassian x Reader fics out there and as much as I love Cass and Nesta, this felt necessary. *Do not repost my work without my express permission.* *Do not copy my work.*

1k words

✨ 💫

You and Cassian. Cassian and you. Attached at the hip in every sense of the phrase. If someone was looking for one of you, they’d find the other. The only time you weren’t together is if you didn’t have a class together or if one of you was going to the bathroom and even then if one of you was drunk enough… you might be in a close proximity.

You met Cassian through your friend and roommate, Feyre. Feyre, after a shitty high school boyfriend, met Rhysand at a party. Rhys was… well he was something. It was one of those situations where someone falls first and the other falls harder. Feyre fell hard. Like inches of cement hard. You’d be grinning with smug intent while Feyre’s face was absolutely red after getting back from an evening out with Rhys. Somewhere in the madness of first year the two crazy kids finally were official. You ensured you would meet him before summer break. You did. 

As Feyre’s friend, and body-guard , you were of course critical of the man. He certainly had an ego. But below it all he felt right for your friend. He treated her like an individual, a partner—not a possession. The same night you met Cassian at a party. Admittedly you were a little drunk. Okay, you were more than a little drunk. Okay, fine! You were very drunk. Like hookup-with-your-friend drunk. Thankfully he was drunk too, less drunk, but still drunk. Somewhere between the drinks, bad music, and watching Feyre and Rhys be sickeningly smitten with each other you and Cassian found a connection. It was like in kindergarten when your eyes land on any random person in the room and think, you’re cool and we’re friends now. 

You woke up the following morning with a hang-over on a couch to Feyre and Rhys stifling laughter. Your friend informed you it was the suite Rhysand and his friends shared on campus. How a group of first-years got that was beyond you, but you didn’t complain. You were still wearing your clothes and thanked the heavens you saw no vomit either. You managed yourself awake to see Cassian sprawled on the floor. You met Azriel that morning. 

“For the headache,” he said, as he offered you a glass of water and Aspirin. 

The three of you suffered while Feyre and Rhys remained wrapped up in each other all morning. 

The connection with Cassian only grew faster. You kept in contact over the summer, both constantly joking about the disgust you felt for the budding relationship between your friends. In truth you both were happy for Rhys and Feyre. Upon your return for your Sophomore year of university, the friendship solidified itself. You were constantly together. Staying up late to get work done, eating, studying, getting stupid drunk at parties. Despite the humor and jokes, you also found a deep comfort from each other. 

Cassian adored physical contact, which was perfect because you did too. Something you discovered when you woke up on the couch in the suite to your dear friend have a nightmare. 

“Just a nightmare, Cass. Just a nightmare,” you reassured him. He had clung to you, falling back asleep soon after. 

By the end of Sophomore year, you were literally inseparable, constantly draping over the other whenever you hung out as a group. A group you drunkenly named, Rhysand’s IC , because he was constantly parenting the rest of you alongside Feyre. IC standing for Idiot Children . 

One particularly very early morning, around 1am, you and Cass were draped over each other on the couch in the suite. The conversation topic was stupid things you did as children, and Cassian was letting out a particularly loud laugh when a cold-faced looking Az stepped out of his room, asking you to “pipe down”. 

Your junior year, Cassian managed a suite that could fit you and Feyre and you all lived together. Often times the night would end with Feyre and Rhys finding themselves together with you and Cassian sitting together having a drink while you braided Cass’s shoulder-length hair, talking about trivial matters. 

Your final year, Feyre and Rhys chose to live off campus because they wanted a place to themselves leaving you, Cass, and Az to fend for yourselves. Az wound up with a single while you and Cassian chose to share a room to be closer to the center of campus. Azriel was a floor above you. You spent night after together, sitting in the corner of your room, watching a movie together, or talking, or sitting in silence enjoying the other’s company. In hindsight it was crazy how quickly college had gone by. 

Cassian had become your dearest friend through it all. His humor you adored, but it was his caring and passionate nature which had you feeling more deeply for him. And suddenly you were stumbling back from an We’re Almost Graduated party Rhys and Feyre hosted.

✨💫

“There’s a spider on your shoulder!!” You shout as you stumble into your dorm room with Cass. You cackle as Cass squeals, squeezing his eyes shut. 

You step forward to flick the spider off his shoulder and he screams making you laugh and nearly keel over. He catches you before you do, a hand landing on your hip. An electric buzz bolts through you. For all the times you’d been in contact this felt different. Maybe it’s the alcohol, the fact that his hand has never been on your hip before, or the the excitement of graduation. 

“Cass?” You ask him, his hand still resting against your hip. Your breath hitches in your throat.

“Y/N?” His question is met with a moment of silence. And then suddenly Cassian’s hands are cupping your cheeks and he’s kissing you. 

Your eyes flutter shut before he’s pulling away. The kiss somehow intoxicating and sobering. There’s a stupid grin on your best friends face. “You know how long I’ve wanted to do that?”

He’s met with silence for a while. You are unable to move. Finally you manage words. “Do that again.”

There is a mild question in his eyes. 

“Do that again,” you repeat. 

Cassian doesn’t need to be told a third time.

[longing-for-rain]

What's the context as to what's going on exactly?

I assume you mean the people sending me death threats over a fanfictions I wrote (which is like... the 3rd? 4th? time this has happened now), but to summarize:

Ironically, I initially made this blog with the intention to just be very lowkey and post headcanons/silly posts/art and not engage in discourse.

At some point, I got an anon angry at me for mentioning how I viewed some of Aang's behavior towards Katara as toxic masculinity and answered it.

A kataang shipper reblogged the (properly tagged) post to whine at me even more, so I replied back with sources and maybe a little too much humor than she could handle, so she cried that I was a meanie and blocked me.

Had a few more experiences with Zutara haters reblogging my posts, making me increasingly annoyed.

I started writing more Zutara metas and criticizing canon more openly.

My posts got popular, popular enough that angry kataang stans started sharing screenshots of them around on here and Twitter.

I made fun of one particularly insane kataang stan who went on a few of my posts, and even into my DMs to screech at me for being every type of -phobic under the sun because I don't like Aang/Kataang. She still periodically blocks and unblocks me so she can shoot more of her brain vomit my way, and accuses me of harassing her for reposting screenshots of her unhinged comments to laugh at. She also accidentally followed me while trying to send an anon one time (I assume, since those buttons are close together) which was hilarious for someone who claims I bully and stalk her.

Recently, a bunch of kataang shippers got butthurt over a post I made referencing how Katara is drawn differently (it was a response to an Anon mentioning a much older post measuring the size of Katara's eyes and jawline) to make her appear younger during "romantic" moments with Aang. I commented on how I found it a creepy contrast and like how much more natural and human she seems while not with Aang, or with Zuko.

Another whiny brat kataang reblogged the (again, properly tagged) post calling me a pedophile, colonizer, racist, and whatever else his little rotten brain could come up with, and posted (without any trigger/content warnings!) out-of-context screenshots of a fanfiction I wrote exploring themes of sexual violence. This was apparently supposed to be "evidence" that I have a "fetish" or something, which needless to say, is an absolutely disgusting thing to say to a survivor talking about her experiences of sexual abuse, especially when you're a man who has never experienced that.

That brings us to why everyone is discoursing over the fic: Claws of Ice. Keep in mind, the majority of these people haven't read it, don't understand any of the context, and felt it was appropriate to leverage my trauma against me in the name of a ship war. The man in question is still crying about how he's the real victim here because I was apparently too mean to him when I responded to his accusations that I'm a pedophile and that my story of assault is a fetish to him, which is exactly the kind of male entitlement you'd expect.

So yeah! That's why they're all so obsessed with me, and throwing around every possible Bad Person accusation they can think of about me, but I really don't take it too seriously with that in mind. I was very nervous about posting this story in the first place because it was so heavy and personal and I was unsure of putting these themes out there, but the backlash has been oddly reassuring. The two biggest haters are that manbaby I mentioned, and that obsessive stalker who keeps spamming the atla-confessions blog with anons that are very obviously her while pretending she's trying to "calm down" the fandom, neither of whom can seem to formulate a coherent sentence. Like if that is the opposition, pretty sure I'm in the right here.

[scummy-writes]

I don't want any more toxic writing habits in fandom. I am so tired of it.

We don't need to be so insanely focused on notes that it dictates what we write or not. We don't need to be so focused on 'networking' to where we only talk to others solely to get our work reblogged. We don't need to put up an act to just. Exist. Here.

Has like everyone forgotten that fandom is supposed to be for fun? Im not talking about people sharing posts about world crisis' or anything dont you dare fucking twist this, that shit is important to share and you can fuck off of you think I'm going to criticize people for sharing posts about people dying.

I'm talking about just. Fandom should not dictate who we do or do not talk to. I dont want to come into groups of writing friends and be told i shouldnt write xyz because it 'wont get enough notes'.

I don't want to be told I write too many words on a fanfic, or too little. I don't want 'well so and so isnt popular enough so youre wasting your time'. I don't want 'well [blogger] writes x character suuuuper well so im never going to touch that character'

Why does this get so fucking confusing to people. Why are interactions based on what you GAIN from it from a note standpoint. Why is there so much focus on toxic fake rules about having FUN. My god. I know i sound fucking annoying when I come in with a 'who cares if you dont get notes/[similar], would you have fun if you wrote it? Then write it!!! Do it!!'

I know I come off like a fucking ditzy cheerleader but my brother in christ if I have to deal with one more person only talking to me because they think they'll get 'notes' out of me, or because they think im on some fucking invisible social ladder, or they think im fucking chill with putting arbitrary limitations on just having FUN over pixels on a screen, I'm going to go fucking batshit insane.