#i'm just addicted to the shitshow

[captain-lovelace]

compilation

[milksockets]

why scan?

scanning is something i've done for probably about 12 years now (i'm ancient, for this site), with varying degrees of regularity, intensity, etc. it has ratcheted up since the dawn of 2023, though, which begs the question: why? why put so much time into what could not-wrongly be considered a passive activity, hunched over a piece of clunky machinery with the express purpose of preserving others' creations? the answers are several, and fascinating (not really).

i am a [sober] drug addict. anything i pursue, consume, create--more often than not--ends up taking on addictive qualities. i'll eat the same specific food item for a month, then never want to see, let alone taste it, again. i'll listen to one song on repeat for days until i'd rather hear nails on a chalkboard than have it shuffle on and assault my ears. one of the reasons that my scanning has increased in volume recently is that i acquired library cards to the 3 nyc library systems: nypl, brooklyn, and queens. as soon as i was able to, i pillaged + plundered those fine centers of learning, leaving any given library with as many hefty scan-worthy books as i could [barely] carry. here, finally, was a *free* way of obtaining more + more + more visual media to consume.

2023 saw me get my first legal, full-time job. as such, my adjusting to that hellish reality resulted in a steep decline in my own personal creative output. collaging, writing, and rapping all fell to the wayside as i slowly acclimated to a life of work that almost everyone else my age has known for over a decade is generally unbearable + detrimental to the maintenance of outside pursuits. in times of famine within my own artistic harvest, scanning, archiving, and sharing others' work is a means of feeling as though i am still contributing to the global oeuvre.

there’s an element of losing my mental self in a series of physical motions that becomes almost automatic after some time. “zoning out” is not something endemic to my daily life; if anything, i’m almost always too zoned in. relief is necessary.  especially considering the shitshow this past year has been in terms of my personal life.

i am a product of capitalism’s cultivating a craving for constant consumption. 

it seems that visual content is only going to continue to get more + more uninspired. has everything been done? did social media ruin it all? in any case, i feel a need to document the past. to a degree, it’s my version of doomsday prepping. (god forbid books go extinct altogether.) 

i have always gravitated towards solitary activities. this topic could be a thesis in its own right.

i thrive on external validation. this reliance is something i’ve improved upon over the past several years, but it hasn’t been altogether extinguished. even though the materials i scan are not of my own creation, i nevertheless feel a vague pride in showcasing them. occasional appreciation thereof satisfies this fixation on others’ attention, albeit in a diluted form. 

i am fortunate to live in a city bursting to the gills with cultural institutions. i am also lucky enough to have some disposable income that can be directed toward fulfilling my ravenous desire for visual media. 

((i keep getting messages about the specifics of my scanner + "process":

i have a cheap ass hp envy 6055e and i just use the software it comes with.

there's nothing special or fancy happening here, and i could definitely invest in a better and/or a large format scanner, etc. but i really just don't care enough and it's not like i'm getting paid for this lmao))

[always-andromeda]

˚₊‧꒰ა 𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐨𝐬 𝐚𝐧𝐠𝐞𝐥 ໒꒱‧₊˚

𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠 ⟡ Dieter Bravo x F!Reader

𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭 ⟡ 5064

𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲 ⟡ It's Emmy night. And your infamous ex-boyfriend is stirring up all kinds of trouble for you.

𝐚𝐮𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐫’𝐬 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞 ⟡ Hi ho, everyone!! This piece is for Gin's ( @wannab-urs ) Dom That Middle Aged Man Campaign 2025!! I'm cutting it incredibly close but I actually ended up having a lot of fun with this one. It started as a smaller oneshot but quickly grew bigger and bigger until hey, whaddya know, Roman Roy is making a little cameo. Blame @strang3lov3 for that lol. Her writing for Roman has made that brain rot really settle in and I needed an asshole boyfriend for this one soooo uhhhh yeah. He is in there!! Anyhoo, here is the full masterlist for the event!! Hope y'all enjoy!!

𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 ⟡ smut (minors, do not interact), minimally edited lol, a tiny bit of angst, no reader description given aside from reader wearing makeup and being able-bodied, one minor suicide joke, toxic relationships, shaky descriptions of the goings on of award shows (sorry, I do not keep up with them well enough to know everything <3), mentions of addiction, infidelity (reader is in a PR relationship, shoutout to Roman Roy lmao), oral, heavy mommy kink lol, pegging, some fluffy aftercare, reader is a fucking mess, dieter is a fucking mess, it's all chaos, nothing else I can think of but feel free to let me know if anything else should be added!!

“Sure you’re going to be ready in time?”

“Of course. Why wouldn’t I be?”

Roman pops his head into the hotel bathroom. “I dunno, isn’t that a woman thing?”

“It is if you’re a misogynist.” You say before blotting your lipstick.

“Or a realist. Veeeery fine line, babe.”

You roll your eyes. Part of you wishes Roman had never been nominated.

Outstanding Lead Actor In A Drama.

When you were younger, awards shows always seemed so exciting and glamorous. Sometimes they still are. But as you built up your career and were invited to more of them you had come to realize that they were little more than glorified circle jerks. Sadly, being Roman Roy’s costar and girlfriend obligated you to attend.

You wish your publicist had booked a separate room for you so Roman wouldn’t wind you up. At this point though, you were counting the days until you no longer had to be joined at the hip. Once awards season was over you could move on from this chapter of life. Maybe you’d hide away for a while. The thought keeps you from going completely insane.

The car ride to the theater is quiet. Roman scrolls through his mentions on Twitter the whole way. A few times you assure him that it’ll be alright, that he worked so hard that he’s sure to win. None of that reassurance matters.

He’s been glued to his phone since the nominations dropped. For almost two whole months it’s been a shitshow. One minute he’s stressing about what he should say for his acceptance speech and the next he doesn’t give a shit. A few times he floated the idea of skipping the event altogether. That usually only happened when the D word came into the conversation.

Dieter fucking Bravo as Roman liked to call him.

Roman hates a lot of things. But god, he really hates Dieter. Roman’s young. He’s talented. And Dieter is…well…Dieter.

“How the fuck did that washed up prick get a nom? Asshole finally managed to find someone in the academy desperate enough to fuck him.” Roman said when he first learned that he’d be competing with Dieter. You’d ignored the pointed insult in that outburst. It wasn’t the comparison of talent or rap sheets that heated Roman up so much as the fact that you and Dieter weren’t strangers. Before he turned it all to shit, you and Dieter had dated for one tumultuous year.

Roman cares for you about as much as you care for him, that much you’re sure of. It’s the optics that bother him. It’s the fact that for almost two months, almost every Twitter user talking about him makes the assumption that Roman Roy is just a stepping stone. That you’d soaked up every bit of clout dating Dieter Bravo could give you. And that now you’d jumped to the next big thing in line.

While some folks called you a slut and a number of other awful names, some raised you to the status of feminist icon.

“‘Sucking and fucking her way through the Emmy nominees.’” Roman read to you one night in disgust. “”What a girlboss.’ Are you seeing this shit? They’re saying you’re probably going after Jeff Bridges next. You better not fuck Jeff Bridges. If you fuck Jeff Bridges, I’ll fucking hang myself.”

You try not to care too much. If being with Dieter had taught you anything it was that the media thrived off of acknowledgement. If you responded to the accusations, every outlet would release an article about it. And then another one about the backlash. And then another one about the backlash to the backlash. Then they’d roll shitty banner ads over the whole thing and call it journalism.

Not even you, yourself, gave that much of a shit about your own sex life. You’d much rather mind your own business than feed into their interest, thank you very much. 

It’s why you couldn’t wait to get the carpet walk over and done with. It’s the closest thing to a goddamn parade and Roman’s desire to cut your prep time short has you feeling less than your best.

You’re in your own head, watching Roman get his picture taken by the paparazzi flash mob, and dreading your turn to join in when you’re rudely interrupted.

“He looks like he’s enjoying himself.”

You almost agree until you turn to look at who had just spoken to you.

Dieter fucking Bravo. And he looks fucking gorgeous.

You can hardly remember the last time he looked so put together. His wavy hair is gelled back, accentuating the stray silvers that he finally seems to be letting grow out. He wears a white shirt that’s buttoned up to the neck. The solid white collar is framed by a black sweater. And for once he’s not wearing pants that are too tight or too baggy; these ones are just right. The look is simple but graceful, perfect for a star settling into middle age. If things were different, you’d kiss his stylist with tongue and maybe give them a handjob for blessing you with such a glorious sight. Pressing your nails into the palms of your hands, there are a number of things you think to say.

What are you doing here? How dare you? What the fuck is wrong with you?

But none of them sound right. None are befitting of such a glamorous night either.

So you settle for replying coldly, “Are you not?”

Dieter snorts and you melt upon seeing the crinkles by his eyes in full force. “Are you kidding? I’m shocked they even invited me. Who’s dying to wheel out the washed up old guys for shit like this?”

“Thank god we’re in Hollywood; the mecca for washed up old men,” you scoff.

If Dieter acknowledges the joke, you don’t hear or see it. Your eyes are glued to Roman, afraid that if you look back at Dieter again they might just pop out of your head.

Roman 

Out of the blue he asks, “He isn’t even nice to you, is he?”

It’s a question that makes you scoff and roll your eyes. How dare he? He goes away for a few months and after two years of image fixing he thinks he has any right to ask that? The old urge to swing around and give him a piece of your mind strikes you again. As the cameras flash, you become very aware that even at your place at the periphery of the carpet, a snapshot of you arguing with your ex would make a great TMZ article.

You mumble, “What he is is none of your business.”

“I was nice to you,” Dieter says, then repeats to himself, “I was nice.”

You retort with a laugh, “When you weren’t high off your ass.”

“Don’t pretend you weren’t either.”

Like you need to be reminded of how hellish it was trying to be with him and subsequently get over him. You remember taking old gifts he’d given you to the secondhand store. You remember deleting almost every trace of him from your phone. You remember the nights you struggled to stop yourself from making contact again. It had been a long, uphill battle to wash away the single most chaotic year of your life and you weren’t sliding down it again.

“We’re not having this conversation again. I hated myself when I was with you. And I’m not going back to that place. I’ve worked too hard for you to come crashing in and ruining that.” You say it more to yourself than him. 

With that, you’re ushered over to Roman where you pose with him. And you almost manage to give a genuine smile to the masses.

When you’re finally seated in the theater, the night rolls on with the typical fanfare. You give your prescribed reactions; cheer when your show is called for an award and smile when you notice a camera near you. A few times Roman leans over to mumble some snotty joke about whoever’s on stage and that deep, cynical part of you manages to laugh at them.

At the very least, it makes him less nervous. That’s how you justify it to yourself.

He’s in the middle of another wisecrack when the woman at the microphone pulls Roman’s attention away. “I’m proud to announce the nominees for Lead Actor In A Drama Series.”

You don’t bother watching the giant screen as clips of the nominees play. You already know damn good and well who’s up on the platter for this one. Instead, much to your dismay, your gaze is trained on Dieter. 

He’s a row ahead of you and about a dozen seats to the right so you only get a sliver of his profile. From the bits and pieces you get of his bobbing head, his jaw looks tense. In the silence that precedes the announcement you notice just how age has settled upon Dieter. With his hair a little longer and head held high he looks just like the man you once saw within him. It suits him well.

“And the Emmy goes to…”

Some small piece of you peers out from the shadows of cynicism and your lips curl into a soft smile. As uncomfortable as he seemed to be amongst this crowd, Dieter finally looked well; he looked hopeful.

“Roman Roy!”

Turning back towards Roman you expect a kiss, a squeeze of your hand, some sort of acknowledgement that you’re right there beside him. Anything. But he’s standing and walking towards the stage before you can even say a word.

Normally you treasure your alone time. This time though, the empty air truly feels depressing.

Part of you wishes Roman had come back to the hotel with you. But another part of you is grateful you won’t have to listen to his gloating. Or his “celebration”, as he called it. 

You can’t stop replaying the moment over and over again. The way your breath seemed stuck in your throat as you watched him deliver his bullshit acceptance speech. He shed a genuine tear when thanking his mother; you’d known him long enough to recognize his shreds of sincerity.

For the most part, however, he’s performing. After all, that’s what got him the award to begin with.

Knowing that there’s a camera capturing your reaction you plaster on a toothy grin. While Roman plays the part of the humble award winner, you play the proud girlfriend though you feel more like a prop than his costar.

None of it matters either way. At the end of the night, you knew that Roman’s speech would be clipped and reposted thousands of times online. Maybe then he’d get the validation he seems to have been craving his entire life.

That’s why he decided to stay at the afterparty, you figured. Maybe it’s also why you were already seeing clips of him at said afterparty proclaiming with a smug grin, “Suck it, Bravo.” Validation from his peers. The why of it all didn’t matter either. You’d had enough of pathologizing the men around you for one night. 

Well. Almost enough.

The thought of Roman’s absence departs and Dieter’s presence worms its way back into your mind.

You’d never had a proper sendoff for your relationship with him. Instead you got stood up on a night he was supposed to meet you for dinner. That night you vowed you would no longer drag him out from a drug induced haze. You went nuclear; blocked him, stopped going to his house, revoked his access to your apartment building.

Through the grapevine you heard that he’d finally crashed out a few months afterwards and got shipped off to rehab. Then from there it was close to silence. The post-Dieter life was calm, if a bit predictable.

You pick up your phone from the nightstand and go through your blocked contacts until you find his name. And after nearly two years of being Dieter free you invite him right back into your life.

You half expect the message to go ignored. He might not even have the same number anymore anyways. Right as you’re about to block him again out of pure embarrassment, you see those three telltale dots pop up on the left side of the screen. They ripple for a few seconds before a reply appears.

If he were in front of you, you would’ve rolled your eyes. You quickly type out a response.

You can practically hear the shock Dieter must’ve experienced in how the message stays read for a solid two minutes before he answers again.

Of course, you wanted to scream. I missed you so bad that I binged the entire series and then looked up fanfiction of your character afterwards.

Just like before, the message stays read for a few minutes. But this time the typing dots on his end disappear and come back a few times. You end up laying your phone facedown on the bed so you wouldn’t throw it across the room. Eventually your ringtone chimes and you pick it up again.

Your stomach drops about a thousand miles down an awful pit of guilt until your memory slows it down. As much as his big brown eyes might suggest it, Dieter isn’t some helpless puppy dog. How many times had he fucked you over before? How many times did he force you to take care of his messes? And how many times did you grin and bear it because you loved him? Maybe it was nostalgia. Maybe it was the need for some sort of closure. Or maybe it was the fact that you weren’t going to go through another night ignored and alone. But you impulsively type and send another message.

And much to your surprise, Dieter replies immediately.

From the second you pull Dieter into your hotel room you feel alive again. His lips are against yours and your stomach soars at the way he lets you deprive him of oxygen. You missed him more than you had even fathomed. You missed his eagerness. You missed the way his hands went straight to your ass. You missed his tongue. God, you could suck on his tongue right then and there and die happy.

The muffled groan he lets out when you tug on his hair reminds you the hotel room door is still partially opened. It hits you for a split second that someone easily could’ve followed him here. By morning the media could be all over whatever happens in this room tonight.

Dieter pulls away for air. As he cups your cheek and gives you that classic mischievous smirk he says, “Hi there.”

And suddenly…you don’t give a shit. Not about Roman or the media or your publicist. You’ll deal with the consequences later. Probably. But for now, it’s all Dieter fucking Bravo. And for once, that was a good thing.

Breathlessly, you command, “Get on the bed. Now.”

Dieter hadn’t felt this antsy since his last stint in rehab. With the way he was practically crawling under his skin he was surprised he made it to your hotel in one piece.

It would’ve been quite a headline if he had. Oscar Winner, Dieter Bravo, Dead at 45 After Losing Emmy. If only those leeches could see him now. The headline would probably read Oscar Winner, Dieter Bravo, Naked and Ass Up On Ex-Girlfriend’s Bed.

It hits him that he has no idea where your boyfriend is. For all he knows this is some sick joke you and him devised just so you could kick him while he’s down. Did you still despise him that much? Taking a mental inventory of everything he did when you were together…it was a possibility.

You didn’t even ask if he was busy. For all you know, he could’ve been out drowning his disappointment with as many prescription pills he could get his hands on. That’s what the old Dieter would’ve done. Old Dieter would have answered your texts between lines in the bathroom before speeding to your hotel room. New Dieter was watching reruns of X-Files in his bathrobe when you rang. Yet he still came running anyway.

He realizes that he probably always would.

Dieter’s swirling mind is soothed by your lips leaving kisses along his shoulder blades. Your fingers dance down his spine, creating waves of shivers in their wake. He stifles a contented hum. Can’t show his cards yet; can’t let you know that he’s just as pliable as he used to be for you.

He suspects you know it anyways when you purr, “You remember your place so well.”

Quiet. He stays so quiet he can hear a pin drop. Hell, he can practically hear your lips twitch as you observe him.

As he got older, Dieter found less and less joy in being watched all the time. Those greedy eyes only see him as prey. And tonight was another one of those reminders that no matter how much he tried he’d never again be the promising young actor the world had once adored.

But you liked him. You saw him for exactly what he was and you liked him. Even more, you rewarded him.

“Do you want to be good for me?” You ask tentatively.

He’s heard you say similar things more than a hundred times. Now they sound less like an invitation and more like a test. You’re testing the waters. As if him being naked on your bed wasn’t enough confirmation that he wanted you. Then again, you’ve always been that forgiving; always given him second, third, and fourth chances.

He lifts his head just enough so you can hear him clearly when he confirms, “Yes, please.”

With that, the weight of your body over his is gone. When you order him to flip over a minute later you stand before him with a familiar instrument. Judging by the size and color, he knows it isn’t the same strap you used to use on him, but it’s a welcome sight nonetheless. It’s a soft pink color with ridges that shine in the warm lamplight. He guesses that it’s likely between six and seven inches. But it’s the subtle curve of the cock that has his mouth practically watering just looking at it. Already he can’t help but imagine it inside him, reaching that spot only you were able to.

“You’re lucky I happened to pick this up the other day. Otherwise you would’ve been stuck with my fingers.” You say with a pout.

Dieter thinks for a second that you’ve got an odd idea of what qualifies as a souvenir but brushes the thought away. He blinks hard and swallows thickly. “I would’ve been fine with that,” he mumbles.

You climb back onto the bed and settle between his legs. Then you inch forward so close that he could kiss you again. Your breath is warm on his face when you whisper, “Bullshit.”

You plant a kiss on his cheek before continuing slowly, “Don’t think I forgot how much you love getting stuffed to the brim. You used to love sucking on my cock before I fucked that perfect ass of yours. Do you want that again, baby?”

He nods quickly.

“Then sit up a bit for me.”

Dieter does as he’s told and you straddle his chest. His hands find purchase around the soft flesh of your thighs. You shake your hips and the dick wobbles ever so slightly. The bulbous tip teases his lips.

“She’s pretty, isn’t she?”

“So fucking pretty…” he breathes.

Stifling the urge to take it all at once, he settles with some experimental licks. His tongue runs down the ridges along the underside. It’s firm but not rock solid; it feels almost like the real thing. A shudder runs through him imagining the thing inside him. He feels his own cock twitch.

“C’mon, you can do better than that. Get me all wet, baby,” you encourage.

Dieter’s lips part tentatively, allowing you to shift your hips forward and nudge your cock in. You moan as if you can feel the relief of his warm mouth around you. Something in his stomach fizzles at the thought of you getting off on watching him be like this.

“That’s it, take it…take it…” 

He looks up, wide-eyed, and sees you gazing back with similarly entranced eyes. Your chest heaves gently as you breathe, drinking in the picture of him beneath you with your cock almost halfway in his mouth.

Dieter ventures further, pushing your hips towards him, allowing him to take another inch. You take that as a sign to slowly start thrusting.

“Good boy,” your voice is velvet as you fuck his mouth. You set a reverent, rolling rhythm, trying not to overwhelm him with the length. Despite the normally submissive position, he feels held, loved, though he tries not to get his hopes up.

He remembers this all too well; the sway of your hips and the small sighs you let out. Judging by those sounds, he guesses that you’re probably a mess yourself. His vivid imagination pictures the slick folds between your legs just begging to be squeezing him. God, how he used to make you whine and sob. But you could make him do the exact same.

“Think it’s as wet as it’ll get, huh?”

His agreement is muffled by the instrument itself and you giggle before removing it from him.

“Yes, ma’am,” he replies.

He folds and spreads his legs instinctively, though from a combination of age and lack of practice, the movement is a little strained. To ease his muscles he plants his feet on the mattress and grasps the sheets in his balled fists. In other words, he’s prepared to hold on for dear life if need be.

The seductive tone in your voice turns a bit more serious. “I’m gonna start slow. And if it hurts or you want to stop at all, you better let me know, okay?”

Dieter nods.

“Hey, I’m not playing around. I don’t want to hurt you. I need to hear you acknowledge that if this is too much you’ll tell me. Alright?”

This time he clears his throat, looks you dead in the eye, and responds, “I will. I promise. I trust you.”

You let out a shuddering breath. And it makes him realize that even with the confident demeanor, you’re likely nervous too. It strikes him that you probably haven’t done this in a while either. It makes sense that Roman wasn’t brave enough to take a cock like yours. Lucky for him, Dieter was all too willing to take the bullet in this instance. Suck it, Roy.

You prod at his hole with your tip, dipping it in and out about an inch to test the waters. As relaxed as Dieter is, he knows he’s out of practice. Fucking himself after you left had always felt a bit awkward. He desired the connection more than the feeling; your low voice coaxing him along the path to pleasure and cradling him in your arms when the journey was done. Doing it to himself always left him feeling a little emptier than before so he tended to avoid it.

Though it’s slimmer than the ones he was used to you using, it still takes a minute for him to become acquainted with the fullness of your cock again while you start to slide further in. There’s never really been anyone else he’s trusted without fear that they’d run to their social media with all the details.

You’re the only one who knows just how he likes it. With a few slow, deep thrusts you know exactly how to draw a few sharp gasps from him. You know it’ll make him whine when you dig your fingers into his hips and praise, “You take my cock so well, baby.” 

Once the stretch of you feels a bit more tolerable he gurgles something akin to encouragement.

“You’re just aching for my cock aren’t ya’, sweetheart?” you tease, your confidence slowly returning.

“Pleas– please fuck me,” he moans.

“What’s my name?”

That’s the easiest question of them all. “Mommy,” Dieter blurts, “Please, mommy.”

The name seems to activate you, 

“C’mon,” you pant, “I want the neighbors to hear how good you’re getting fucked. Let them hear you, baby.”

He has no trouble with that. If there is indeed someone in the room next door, he knows that they’re getting the performance of their fucking lives. Strings of his incoherent babble paired with the bang of the headboard against the wall. 

“You wanna touch yourself now? Can mommy see you touch that pretty cock of yours, huh?”

Without another word, Dieter’s hand flies to his neglected dick. Even the slightest bit of pressure from his fist around the base nearly makes him sob. He’s so desperate to relieve the throbbing need in his belly that he begins pumping at an almost brutal pace. Mere seconds before he feels like the cord is about to break, you lay your own hand over his and stop him abruptly.

He lets out a sharp breath through his nose in defiance and is about to protest when you chide,  “Ah, don’t get greedy, baby. Go nice and slow so mommy can really watch you.” You let go of him and continue, “It’s been so long since mommy has seen you come hard. And we’re going to make that happen, we have to be patient. Can you do that? Be patient for mommy?”

He nods feverishly.

“Say it.”

“Yes, mommy.”

Dieter tries his best to pace himself. He tries to time each drag of his fist with the drag of your cock inside of him. His body sways with the movement and if he didn’t feel so on edge, he thinks he could probably fall asleep like this; being fucked into oblivion by you.

He can’t even remember the last time he’d felt so warm and wet and safe. Probably since the last time you were on top of him.

His lidded eyes meet your expression. A few drops of sweat have formed on your forehead. You bite your bottom lip and you stare down at where your cock disappears inside of him. True to your word, you watch him slowly milk his own cock. And he swears that between small grunts he can hear you moan softly.

A bit of pride bubbles in Dieter’s chest knowing that you still crave this the same way he does. You’re just as fucked as he is; just as far gone. And he finds himself starting to slip farther and farther down the pit too.

“F-fu-u-ck– I’m so fucking…sofuckingclose–” he pants. That familiar rush of pleasure in his abdomen threatens to spill over. He knows he’s only got a few seconds until he lets go entirely. He doesn’t wait to be told to ask first. He begs, “Please, please, please, let me cum…holy fuck–”

You’re breathing so hard and so focused on hitting him just right that it takes a moment for you to gather yourself enough to respond. But you do. And Dieter is on the brink of sobbing when you whine, “Go ahead, baby. Make a fucking mess of yourself.”

Those words are the green light for him to fuck his fist a little faster, urging forward that long awaited release. Dieter’s back arches. And with your cock still sliding in and out of him, the slightly altered path makes him see the fucking heavens. God bless the Emmys. God bless the Television Academy. God bless Roman Roy. God bless whoever invented that beautiful, curved, pink cock. And God bless you, his favorite angel, for fucking him onto paradise’s doorstep with it.

Ropes of his thick spend shoot across his stomach. As your thrusts and his movements slow, each spurt begins to slowly spill over his fist. He milks every last drop of cum that he can from his softening cock; you wanted a mess, after all.

Dieter groans when you eventually pull out of him. Closing his heavy eyes, he allows himself to feel just how completely spent he is. Every one of his limbs are jelly. Exhausted but contented jelly.

Soon afterwards you pad away to the bathroom, likely going to retrieve a towel and straighten yourself up a little. When you return and begin to clean up the last hour’s work, he can’t help but notice your expression.

Your jaw is slackened and soft. You part your lips as if in pride at the result of this impulsive act. Though you’d been firm before, you were still so gentle with him. Your melodious hum fills the room with a comforting atmosphere. He missed this. He missed you.

When you both finally settled in bed, it felt as though little time had passed between this tryst and the last. There’s a comfortable silence as you brush a few strands of his hair away from his face and tuck it behind his ear. Your hand lingers for a moment on the side of his head. You hum and press your lips to his for a soft kiss.

Amongst the tangle of limbs, one of his legs is nestled between yours. For a second he wonders if you two hadn’t cleaned up as well as you thought until it hits him that the wetness on his thigh is from you.

He breaks away with urgency and you give him a confused expression. “I’m sorry. Do you want me to-? I think I can get hard again. Just give me a minute to-”

You sigh and hold him, keeping him still. “Dee, it’s okay. You don’t need to do anything.”

“Are you sure? I can go down on you if you want.”

“Hey, what did I say about being greedy, huh?” You laugh. “I’m too tired anyways.”

Dieter’s heart sinks until you continue, “We can do that tomorrow. Before breakfast? How’s that sound?”

He pulls you closer to his chest and chuckles, “I can do that.”

“You sure can pencil that into the schedule?” You tease.

“Oh, I’m not missing that appointment. Trust me.” With a hard swallow he admits, “Been waiting for that opening for a long time.”

Your voice reverberates against his ribcage when you reply, “Me too, Dee. Me too.”

Please consider commenting and/or reblogging if you enjoyed!! Love ya!! 💛

[respectthepetty]

Addicted Heroin (Th) Colors & Chaos - Special Episode

Did the special episode for Addicted Heroin offer any answers about the time jump we got in the first episode? No! Did it explain why we were shown Hero in the hospital screaming in the trailer? No! Did we get the infamous car accident even though we were shown the car had faulty brakes (thanks to a creepy brother)? Also no! But I got color-coded boys in love, and that's all that really matters!

Plus I got way more of my side couple in this episode than I did the entirety of the actual season, so who am I to be upset at this show for making no sense?

I don't need logic when I have a Green Guy and Blue Boy running away from a crazy father to an island just in time for the pandemic to cause everything to be locked down.

If it gets me more of my Pink Person and Yellow Yal, then I'm willing to sacrifice logic!

Because even though everything is locked down, the kids are still going to school without masks.

While the two little runaways are masked up on the island and buying color-coded swords.

So they can get drunk and play with them later as they fantasize about being in a wuxia, but not in a gay way. No! They were actually playing with the swords.

Because the director was determined to make sure that he only alluded to them having sex because heaven forbid they actually kiss on the lips!

The Chinese version wasn't even this censored!

But, once again, I'm here for colors, not for a rationale plot or reasonable merch!

So what if Hero gets shot with rubber bullets at the market because his dad sent an entire ARMY to bring him back dead or alive?!

What does it matter that a gorgeous woman showed up for three whole minutes and rescued him out of nowhere, only to creepily spray her perfume on him as if marking her territory?

Is it important that Hero knows his brother is a creep who keeps trying to sexually assault Pop?!

No! Because the whole entire military is after two gay kids during a pandemic!

AND THE KIDS HAVE TO OUTSMART THEM!

Hero and his creepy brother really just told these men to lie to their dad, and they did! I know this is the plot to a Disney Channel original movie. It has to be!

But it makes perfect sense that the military is pro-homo since this is their training.

Is it homoerotic?

Or just homo?

Doesn't matter to me because as long as I keep getting my side couple, I don't give two shits how this story is falling apart like a Temu sweater.

I'm getting color-coded boys in love with implied sex, who just pulled the gay version of speaking-to-the-manager to get out of returning home, so not one second of this Disney Channel original movie needs to make a lick of sense for me to enjoy it!

Although Poppy is very upset that they are not in school, screwing up their chances of going to college, isolated on an island away from his family during a pandemic, and just chilling with the creepy brother, he still loves Hero as he wears his color, so if he is good with this shitshow, then I'm Gucci.

And even though we both know the cars that Hero's creepy brother gave them are death traps since the brakes didn't work when Pop tried to drive away, I'm ignoring that just like the characters did because this special episode was made from scenes that were meant for a second season that is never happening, so . . . fuck it! We ball!

The boys go camping on the beach because that's what one does when the plot isn't making even one iota of sense.

But the camping trip is color coded, so I'm happy!

And the special episode ends with Hero's dad calling them to say they can come home because Pop's mom has been crying that the kids could die from COVID (yet not from the dad sending an army to kill them!).

But the kids don't come home because it's a pandemic, and they are in lockdown.

The End

***********

And this is why I need people to watch trash because some of you need to be humbled. Y'all are watching perfectly good shows and ripping them apart over trivial aspects while THIS CLUSTERFUCK IN A SILK SHIRT EXISTS!

AND I STILL LOVED IT!

Bless

[demigod-jack-hearth]

Diary of Jack Hearth

chapter one - Let's start with the basics

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

Hey, I dunno why your reading my diary but what the fuck, hi, I'm male today (I'm fucking gender fluid so stfu)

My name is Jack Hearth, I'm 17 years old, the adopted son of Hestia and the champion of many gods and goddesses (we'll get into that in the future, don't worry). I'm also one of the oldest none fully

Let's talk about me, that's why you're here isn't it? I'll only give you a brief summary for now. We can get more into detail later

I don't really remember much about my mortal parents; they died when I was 5 years old from a car accident which I caused (will also get into this in the future) and I take complete blame for the accident no matter what anyone tells me.

After that shitshow of a car crash, Hestia found me, raised me for a few years and then she took me to CHB (camp half-blood), where I became the keeper of the Hearth at camp, which at the time for me personally was a very important job (now not so much).

I stayed at camp for around 6 years, until after the second giant war, where I went to CJ (camp Jupiter) and served for a few years.

After I was released from duty in the cohort, I returned to CHB which is where I usually spend most my time now, although I occasionally visit CJ to visit old friends, such as RaRa (Reyna Avila Ramírez-Arellano)

Once I returned to CHB, I spent as much time as I could (probably too much) baking, as its one if not my favourite past time.

As well as baking, I began spending a lot more time with the younger and newer campers, and especially the ones who didn't necessarily come from a good background.

In spending time with these campers, it made me realise so much more how absolutely FUCKED demigod lives are.

So many of the younger campers came from families who either abused or neglected them because they were demigods and they were seen as a "freak" by their own families.

This revelation caused me to become very protective over the new and younger campers. (the younger ones more) I basically became a parental figure or an older sibling figure to almost every camper.

After a few years of that, I was involved in some time traveling shenanigans where I ended up adopting my first child, Rosalie, and one of my strange... I guess you could call it an addiction, began... I started having this strange urge to adopt as many children as I could and protect them from the world, or at least give them a caring parental figure, and I currently have 22 adopted children and one biological child.

And now you've caught up, that dear reader is just a brief summary of my life.... I'll bring you more soon

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

WOOO, finally done chapter 1, took me 2 hours to write

Can you guys like review this and tell me where I can improve

(tag list for fanfic, tell me if you want to be added)

@love-lightning-forethought @the-gods-strange-children @if-chaos-was-a-boy @silena-daughterofaphrodite @nicoswill2live @unhinged-waterlilly @chaos-pers0nified @lizzzzzzzzzzzzzz---lol @reyna4ever @luck-is-crucial @zoe-aura-of-d3ath @pink-koi-lovejoy @bast-the-best26 @kaiaalwayswins

[desi-girll]

TW: don't read if you don't want to know about self harm, but again, this is a positive post because it's about recovery, so nothing very explicit... but again, please don't read if you might get triggered <3

Page 261 of 366

Dear diary 🧸,

so, today is a big day for me. and when i say big, i mean it in a really really proud way.

because

today, 17th September 2024, marks one year of me being clean from self harm ♡

and i feel like the credit for this one goes entirely to me. last year and before that, my mental health was a shitshow. i was in a toxic friend group, very very insecure of my body, and thought that maybe I'm doomed to be be "ugly" girl. then, of course, the pressure of being a 11th grade science student. i'm sure most of the ones who have been, can relate? parents not understanding, marks not upto our expectations, exams, assignments and what not. so much pressure. but maybe it was just me who couldn't deal with the pressure and got more addicted to something I'd already been doing for 2 years prior to that.

on september 17th, 2023, getting a 4 out of 30 in physics? let's cut again, in the bathroom. believe me, i was addicted to the feel of the sharp compass needle against my skin. to this day, although healed, i still regret the feel of the scars on my thighs. i wish i hadn't ruined God's gift like that. i really do. but maybe it'll go away with time.

so, anyways, on that day suddenly i decided i don't wanna be like this anymore. i wanna heal myself and my relationship with my body. so i just kinda stopped. and trust me, it wasn't easy. so many times, i just randomly started thinking about how good it used to feel, sometimes my emotions were so strong that it was really hard to not start again but now i know how to restrain myself. i know a little bit of self control.

moreover, what really helped in boosting my self esteem was working out. i never that the solution to a positive body image for me maybe to move around and yknow, exercise a lil. and now, what motivates me the most is when i hear compliments from the same people who used to pass comments about my body before. i actually love my body now, or am trying my best to, because unlike one year prior, i'm really fucking fit and healthy now <3

so yes, that's the story and i hope this 1 year can progress to 2, then 3, then 4 and then slowly be a thing i struggled with, in my teenage years but then taught myself a way out of it.

for those of yall out there, struggling with any kind of self destructive behavior, be safe please. i promise you, there are so many ways to heal and recovery is one hundred percent possible ♡

love,

me

[compassionatereminders]

I'm sorry about the shitshow but as a fellow addict I just wanna send solidarity. Psychological addiction is real and while physical addiction can be a killer, psychological addiction takes you off guards with your pants down

Thanks, I appreciate you ❤️

[battersweet]

WHAT THE FUCK İS GOİNG ON İN TÜRKİYE?!🥰🥰❤️❤️❤️🎀🎀🎀

Wait lemme chill out

The banned apps currently;

Wattpad

İnstagram

Roblox

Wikipedia(i'm not sure)

So, they Banned Wattpad, Wikipedia(i think ekşi sözlük too but i'm not sure), roblox, Instagram, and now they're planning on banning Tiktok??? WHAT THE FUCK ARE YOU GUYS DOİNG???

İ said if they will ban another platform for some dumbass reason again AND İ AM LOSİNG MY SHİT RİGHT NOW🥰🥰❤️🎀🎀✨✨💕💞💓💝💗💘💞💖

(also they can ban Youtube again but i hope they won't cause i have to study for LGS man😭)

"Our people wants it that way😫-" WHAT PEOPLE???? Please come here and show me a person that says they wants that and ı'll give you a thousand dollars.(⁠≧⁠▽⁠≦⁠)

They say it's because about security problems and violation of moral values.(WHAT?) They stated that TikTok contains content that harms social values and "many users are disturbed by this situation.🥺"

WHO??? İn this situations there's always a 'people' and "users" but what people? İs this people are made up in their mind or something?

Okay we know Tiktok has problematic, weird videos etc but it's something that every platform has and you CAN'T change that mate. Did you banned Instagram? They will move to Tiktok. Did you banned Tiktok? They will move to Facebook or tumblr etc. Or did you straight up banned the internet? They will continue on outside and public than it will be another problem.

YOU CAN'T FUCKİNG STOP THİS MAN İT'S İN PEOPLE'S İNGREDİENTS.

this culture always existed in every platform and you legitly can't stop that. İ hope i'm not looking like a internet addicted creep but Social Media is not just for fun it's also for information, communicating and socializing.

And moral values? MY ASS.

Guys c'mon we're not living in a cave get it together. Not to mention that they Banned Youtube for 2 years once.

They also Banned Wikipedia too actually- BROTHER THAT'S A FUCKİNG SİTE FOR EDUCATİNG AND İNFORMATİON WHAT????

what's next now, are we gonna have to breathe with VPN too? GUYS THİS SHİT COSTS MONEY WHEN YOU USE İT FOR LONG PERİODS OF TİME AND FUCK NO İ'M NOT PAYİNG THAT.

AND İF İT WİLL GET BANNED AT LEAST GİVE İNSTAGRAM BACK AMK DAWG😭

Like @osuruktan-tayyare said, a literal shitshow.

VPN' ninize sağlık ne diyeyim yani🥰🥰🥰

Currently Türkiye rn:

@wildwolf-fandoms @pienaur

[regretevator-confessions]

My computer is at 3 percent, it's 1 AM, and I'm tired, so this is gonna be pretty disorganized but here we go

I was raised on YouTube and Google and that was all. I had no social media, all I had was animations and comic dubs of my fandom and google images to see fanart, and lemme tell you-- seeing the state that some of those fandoms were in when I actually got social media was crazy. The shitshow that fandoms tend to be is unfortunate, but i don't think there's a single fandom that DOESN'T have toxic and unnecessarily rude fans. We just all have them in our own way-- half of the confessions about the whiny, annoying people on here could apply to most fandoms.

This fandom is a comfort to a lot of others though, so to those people I say-- find the fans that you want to surround yourself in! There's a block button for a reason! Follow the tags of what you want to see, block what you don't want to see(blocking isn't the action you take only when they're the most vile person on Earth, you can block people just because you're not interested in their content!) and hey-- if worse comes to worst, maybe just take a break from social media and only use google images to look at fanart or smth. I think that's the secret to a long hyperfixation because I was hyperfixated on FNaF for 6 years and I didn't have any social media, once I gained social media my hyperfixations were only up to 9 months at most.

TL;DR - All fandoms have toxic people, social media is meant to cater towards the user(that's what makes it so addicting after all) so you can filter out what you don't wanna see, and taking a break from social media/only engaging in the smaller, harmless ways is good for you.

.

[chaifootsteps]

Hey, idk how long you were in the Hazbin fandom before leaving, but the more I learn about the capital-S-Shitshow that is the current state of the series, honestly I'm kinda curious about some of the retconned stuff from like 2013-2015 that's been wiped from the internet. like, I know Vaggie and Angel used to be dating and stuff, but a lot of the original "lore" stuff about the demonology is reallllly hard to find. From the very few vague posts I've found, there were "beacons" and stuff and ways to summon demons, but idk much about that system/how they interacted with humans, so if you were a lurker back then do you remember anything, or any weird lore tidbits? Just curious. :)

Unfortunately, I jumped aboard with Addict, so I'm actually pretty useless when it comes to pre-quarantine Viv stuff. Believe me, I wish I'd been around for it too...so much drama and content you just had to be there for.

[skullsmuldon]

You're killing me! I'm such an idiot. On 2nd read, I *just* understood something you said in your last post re: DD's ring finger tattoo having meaning -- it represented "At Your Side Forever."

And this time, he just did the bare minimum!

Oh mannn! Get thee to a courthouse ASAP, Mo! Almost there, hon!

Exactly 😂 sorry I should have made it more clear 🙈

But yeah she either needs to get married or get herself pregnant. A tattoo to DD does mean I’m at yo ur side forever but if I feel like dipping my wiener in someone else that is okay too and if you have a problem with that it’s not his fault…

I’m at a point where I can’t take DD seriously anymore. He is a child in a men’s body. He has no accountability for his faults and seems to always blames the women in his life for his fuck ups. His mom is to blame for his sex addiction but not the dad who left his mom with 3 kids. Tea left him and that messed him up etc. and west who so is against the patriarchy is supporting the worst example ( her dad) of said patriarchy by validating his Malibu shitshow.

But nowadays morals seem to only hold up as long as no money is involved in testing those morals.

All that is left for me to say is I’m happy I have the XF to watch and I hope there never will be new XF episodes so we don’t have to see CC and DD putting their real life shit into the show and destroying what Mulder is/was. Because at this point I wouldn’t put it past them to make Mulder hook up with a young female agent and then claim it had some deeper meaning…

[pluckyredhead]

Red Hood and the Outlaws #4 (2011)

Back on Lobdell's bullshit!

There had been vague references to Roy being a "screwup" in the first three issues of the book, but this issue confirms that he is, as he was pre-Flashpoint, an addict in recovery. There are two major differences, though: one, his sobriety seems a lot shakier than it was pre-Flashpoint (at least, before Lian's death), and two, he is now an alcoholic, rather than a narcotics addict. Pre-Flashpoint, Roy was regularly shown drinking casually and sometimes even actively drunk (Ollie's bachelor party), and it was never depicted as a problem for him, though Kyle at one point gently teases him about staying away from booze. (Interestingly, Ollie is occasionally depicted as having an unhealthy relationship with alcohol himself, but no line is ever drawn between his potential addiction and Roy's, in any continuity.)

I'm of two minds about the change. On the one hand, though I have a strong attachment to the original "Snowbirds Don't Fly," it was very much commenting on a specific cultural moment, as well as being very deliberately designed to open up conversation about drugs and drug addiction in comic books (prior to "Snowbirds," the depiction of drug use was banned by the Comics Code Authority). There's no reason to stick specifically to heroin, other than tradition. I hate to praise Tom King, and I have quibbles with him giving Roy an addiction to prescription drugs in Heroes in Crisis (if injuries in the field led to Roy's reliance on and then addiction to prescription painkillers, why is he the only superhero to develop an addiction? it should be like a third of them!), but it's a choice that feels very current, the way that heroin felt very current in 1971. (People obviously still do heroin, but you know what I mean.)

Making Roy an alcoholic instead of a heroin addict provides an interesting opportunity to compare the two addictions. Alcoholism is much more culturally accepted (and, you know, legal), easier to hide, and carries far less stigma, both when using and when in recovery. And yet RHATO depicts a Roy who appears to be in greater disgrace with the superhero community than pre-Flashpoint Roy ever was. It would have been interesting to explore the difference in how the two addictions are received, in getting and staying sober, in the dangers of using any substance to excess, even legal and widely accepted ones. A thoughtful writer could have told a really moving story with this change.

Of course, we're talking about Lobdell here, so the change feels completely arbitrary and downright lazy, especially since Lobdell (and King) has a habit of doing zero research and changing things at random. Both the alcoholism and the prescription drug addiction wind up coming across like all addictions are interchangeable, which is...shitty.

But, you know. It could have been good.

On the other hand, here we have the debut of the single best thing about all of RHATO: the Jaybird nickname. Drink it in, friends.

Meanwhile, Kori gets attacked by this guy, Crux:

She's TAMARANEAN. In fact, the word "Tamaranean" is used later on the same page. What a shitshow.

Crux is a human whose parents were killed when a random Tamaranean spaceship hit their car (why were Tamaraneans just cruising by Earth? no idea), so he devoted his life to destroying aliens in general and Tamaraneans in particular, including using alien DNA so he can turn himself into a giant bat-lizard at will.

Meanwhile, the hot lady sheriff turns out to be an Untitled, and she and Jason frisk each other sexily before she turns into a monster and attacks. It's boring.

The issue ends with Roy going to help Kori, who is losing her fight, and Jason facing off against the Untitled. So to sum of the events of the issue, two fights start and Roy calls Jason "Jaybird" for the first time. It's amazing how little story you can tell in when you average like two panels per page!

[sizzlingpatrolfox]

"you are no longer an artist but a washed out yes man." How can JK go back to the group and be proud of being the only one not to try writing songs for himself or put out his own material? how? He didn't even try. At least V tried, it wasn't the best but he tried. suga did good, know you aren't a fan but he did well. RM did okay but not much to say hope he actually come out of that ME ready to work and tell the world what he really thinks (but if we get more butters I swear to god@#$$@) Jhope did okay too. Jimin hit it out of the park. Best chapter 2: Jimin, Suga, Jhope, RM, V, JK (jin doesn't get placement cause he didn't even get a ch2 yet). goodbye for the next 18months

Jungkook doesn't give a fuck as long as he gets his "fame" and his money and everything that comes with it. People still expecting him to have any integrity or artistry at all is beyond me.

I don't like Yoongi's personality but I'm okay with his songs. I just think him releasing music was pointless and boring because it's literally the same album he's released twice before. And even worse.

I listened to indigo a few times because I liked it.

Oh, it's going to be ALL about more butters, yet to come, ptd, life goes on, sevens, 3ds. It's going to be all about performances on seats and music in English and washed out, cigarette addicted, alcohol belly, boy group choreographies. A lot of music in English. The Jungkook shitshow wasn't just a little project. They were literally laying the foundation for what's to come.

[csmeanerr]

It’s so funny cause I see people say to spend money on non-digital things rather than CS and I just can’t take that as a good suggestion. One of my aunts, my dad, and his mom all have pretty bad hoarding tendencies, and when I buy real things I just hold onto them and don’t use them. I tried Pokémon cards (I have thousands), I was in the squishmallow craze (I have at least 20), and I buy legos (over $2k I’m sure) but they just take up space and that’s it. You could argue the same for my CS or really any OCs but at least that’s digital storage that does not affect my real life. Could I save? Yeah but I don’t have anything else in my life to distract me from the heap of useless money. No friends to hang out with, no hobbies, nowhere to go, nothing to do, it’s all an event of spending money either way. If I have to spend my money, I’d rather it be to support creators and on things that won’t fill up my house.

If it works for others good on them though fr

want to give this one a proper response because it's a good perspective to see through and understand. empathy and all that, and if i were in the same position yeah i'd prefer the stuff that doesn't take up space too

at the same time it's not all black and white and i can tell this is being typed from a pretty dark place and hope the best for you going forward. i've been in a pretty similar position, especially the pokemon cards. CS gives an easy entry to a community, especially if you have something others want. they are basically an art community centered around a common theme, the species itself

and while im all about supporting creators and making the most of your life, i want to add in some counterpoints to your words because i don't want others to fall into that defeatist attitude. shit might get personal but i do appreciate your message

cs is already a hobby. idk what you do in them but from how it's worded it seems you use your money to help pass the time with, be it buying an adopt or legos to do something with. spend your money however you want but i'll just say it doesn't need to be spent on material goods. just treating yourself to a yummy meal can still be worth its weight and not leave behind any 'waste' beyond the physical clean up

if you want to support creators too then support the other people in the CS community beyond the owner or staff. im all about creators getting compensated for their work while also understanding CS owners artificially inflate their work's value by arbitrary rules such as limited traits or artificial scarcity. if you want to support that then it's not like i can change your mind about it, all i'm saying is you can also use your money to commission the other artists who often have to sell their work for fake in-game currency or pennies in comparison

ngl you sound defeatist and bitter and are only rallying behind cs practices because you have a parasocial relationship and cope hard with it. im not gonna discredit that, i did the same exact stuff and put thousands into buying adopts be it because of FOMO, because I did like the owner, because i liked the design, or even just having something to do by checking market channels, talking in the chat, or designing their backstories. it's easy to stick with that or latch on, because if you have the money (and even if you don't) it's just the same as any other anchor to the shitshow of life

do i have a solution? not really it's not a fix-all and i'm not a therapist, i'm just going to say i can't abide by your explanation nor can i recommend it to others because that is the exact same mindset that people with addictive personalities have and makes them so susceptible to CS's terrible practices. hopefully you can find another way to cope and i do wish you the best

[thatgirl4815]

hi elle! first of all, i loooove your analyses and i've been checking your blog religiously after ep7 so i can calm down about the shitshow that is raymew...

now that i'm calmer, i have a few thoughts as a film major with a screenwriting obsession: according to one of the most well-known and accepted versions of the three-act narrative structure, we can say that the thatcar.mp3 blowing up was the halfway point of the story (ep6 of 12) where shit starts hitting the fan for real.

and the fallout of it is raymew: the false victory/defeat that usually occurs before we build up the actual climax. which will probably blow up in 11 because this is a thai bl and spill into 12 bc of what first said abt khao's intense scene in 12. and also you can't just have a whole-hour ep as an epilogue, especially in a series as messy (affectionate) as this.

i'm kinda done theorizing plotlines bc raymew fucking blindsided me, i didn't think they would actually go there. but looking at it as a false defeat (for sand and top) and a false victory (for ray and mew) it makes such perfect sense that as upset as i still am, i'm also kinda amazed at how brilliant the writers were for this...

so i have no idea what the actual climax is going to be, or how we'll get there, but i'm pretty confident about a sandray endgame from a narrative standpoint. i don't think that endgame is gonna be particularly healthy or happy, but i think it's gonna be pretty hopeful, if still somewhat ambigious.

(also on that note: i kinda love that jojo et al. are using the fixed pair concept to move the narrative along without spending a lot of time establishing the ships in the series (as angry as i am about the lack of sandray scenes lately...). we know that forcebook (topmew) and firstkhao (sandray) are likely ending up together, so they can introduce as much mess as they can into the story without fucking them up for good. i think it's a pretty genius way of subverting but also honoring the genre tropes we've come to know and love.

anyway, i'm done now klsdmgk keep up the brilliant work!!!

Hi Fen! That is so sweet of you! Honestly made my day. I’m trying to stay hopeful, mostly because so many people in the fandom seem to be in a very hopeless state right now over SandRay, but I still firmly believe it can work out between them. The way forward is rocky, but there is a way forward nonetheless.

I know Thai BLs have a tendency to let shit hit the fan in Ep11 and then clean it up in Ep12, and while I also fully expect that to be the case here, I hope that doesn’t mean they’ll rush through the resolution. I mean I would take an hour-long episode of SandRay: Adventures in Chiang Mai, but realistically I don’t think we’ll see much future stuff.

I’m thinking the climax for each couple will be much more personal—as in, within the pairs themselves rather than outside of them. So for SandRay this could be Ray’s addiction and commitment issues, etc. (It could have to do with Sand’s ex, but I think the bulk of that conflict will pass before Ep12). For TopMew, this could be about trust, with Top possibly making some grand gesture to win Mew back over, or Top demonstrating his love for Mew by saving Mew from himself (similar to next ep?)? For BostonNick, it could be Boston realizing his feelings for Nick and trying to win him back over, only to realize that Nick helped Mew get the sex tapes from Gap? Or that Nick really has moved on. Idk, I’m just brainstorming at this point, because yeah, after RayMew happened, I genuinely have no idea what to expect.

Side note, but I have a hunch Khao’s best scene in Ep12 is some sort of a mental breakdown? Maybe something similar to what we saw in Ep4. It’s got to be highly emotional to compete with the funeral scene in MLC. Maybe it’s Ray confronting his mother’s death again, but this time it’s Sand who pulls him out of his despair? Who knows.

Interesting point about how Jojo is using the established pairs…I really hope it is the case that FK and FB’s pairings make it out alive and all of this RayMew stuff is just for dramatics and will soon pass. That is the one negative to watching shows as they air (aside from the grueling wait between eps): I wish I knew how the couples will turn out so I don’t get my hopes up for nothing.

Also, because I know this is a hard time for all of us, I wanna say that my DMs and Ask box are always open! If we’re going to suffer, at least we can all do it together lol. <3

[lucysinatizzy]

grace van dien literally ruined herself. go on twitter and youtube and all you see is the faze drama. she's not coming back from this. she's done

tw: brief mentions of drug use and OD.

Honestly, it just sounds like you want her to be done.

If you were on twitter and youtube, you'd see a lot of people are also on her side or at least taking up for her. Hasan, Asmongold, Henis, Zander, H3H3, and other creators have too. It's not all just misogynistic hissy fits. There's legit support for her, even from outside of the community.

Grace made mistakes like every other person does. Turns out, it's a very human thing to do. She went in there with good intentions and FaZe did what FaZe does best. Make bad business decisions, hurt their own reputation, and treat women like shit. Surprise, surprise. This has been the most attention that orgs had in years and it's for all the wrong reasons.

This idea that Grace 'ruined herself' is a bunch of bs. I'm tired of women being expected to act like perfect little angels and the moment they don't or screw up, it's over for them. Little to no room to grow, learn, or make things right. They're just supposed to be kind and keep their composure, even while being attacked, and are vilified if they strike back. Men are rarely ever held to those same standards.

People were going at her for talking about Rain's OD, yet Asmongold went way harder and said 'who put the pill in your mouth', called him a pussy, blamed him for his drug addiction/almost dying, and referred to all of FaZe as a bunch of crackheads. No one's ganging up on AG for that or saying he ruined his career for good. None of the other dudes who also went in on Rain are getting the same kind of flack Grace did. I don't see people demanding them to apologize or picking apart their on-camera body language either. I wonder why...

For this weekend, lots of people traveled and spent their hard-earned money just to meet her. She'll be going back to streaming. Also, the internet has a short attention span. It's all over sm right now because it just happened lol. By next week, people will probably have already moved on to the next shitshow to be outraged over and entertained with. Sure, she won't have the love of some gamer bros, 15-year-old boys, and weird ass pick me's, but that was never going to happen anyway so who cares?

She'll be fine. The people who don't like that are just going to have to get over it and maybe find a hobby that doesn't involve eagerly waiting for a woman's life and career to be completely destroyed.