#i'm not faulting anyone for tagging these characters that way

[i-am-a-secret-ssshhh]

I find it really funny when I'm trying to find stuff about one character and I find stuff about another but neither are technically wrong.

Like:

This is Spike:

And this is Spike:

And technically, this is also Spike:

(I am literally never referencing the last one, just added him for fun)

Same thing if it's the nickname for another character.

Like, this is Kaku:

And this is Kakucho, but the fandom calls him Kaku:

And it's hilarious because none of these are wrong! I'm not faulting the writers or posters for using the tags because they're using them right, it's just something I've noticed for these characters. And I'm sure there's more.

[ectonurites]

almost 4am can't stop thinking about the meaning of the idiom 'to have blood on [someone's] hands'—to be responsible for a person's death—combined with the fact that Zach is the one we are specifically shown with Daryl's actual blood on his hands (once for real and once in a dream)... Not Josh who had been holding the sword Daryl fell onto, but Zach who took the sword out.

[astrxealis]

i was about to rb this really pretty shb art and then remembered i'm trying to avoid rbing spoilers <//3 anyways i love shb sm. love that it's an mmorpg but shb is literally one of the best jrpg experiences i (and many others) have had

[lucienne-thee-librarian]

@pandawriterstuff how could you leave this in the tags

LITERALLY this. And even stuff that is at most vaguely based on mistakes they actually make is always blown way out of proportion when male characters can do and say far worse and get just...all kinds of excuses made.

A female character can't have so much as a moment where she makes a poor decision due to previously established character flaws or the mere stress of a situation, or where she snaps at someone under stress, or a moment where she - heaven forBID - focuses on her needs and misses an area man's stress or sadness in the moment without being labeled as selfish and uncaring and all but responsible for his mental breakdown later (real one I recently saw) ...people talk a big game about wanting "more realistic flawed female characters who aren't perfect all the time" but half the time I KNOW they don't really mean it as much as they think they do. Cause when they actually get a woman who has human things like flaws, or a bad temper or just. Human frailties like the other characters people all but call her a selfish bitch who's a leech off of the obviously more important and NEVER in any way selfish (or if he is its EARNED dontchaknow) male characters around her, even if that's clearly not an even slightly fair or accurate read of her character or the situation. She's not allowed to be too human or she's flanderized and turned into a parody of her former self.

i hate the way that “female characters are just not as well written as male characters” persists even after years and years of people pointing out that is simply a bad excuse, that people will rehabilitate a poorly written man and flatten a well written woman time and time again. i hate the way that no one can take this criticism, this simple truth that they are biased against women, and work to slowly dismantle this part of themselves. instead it’s just, there are no good women

[hauntedhowlett-writes]

title: my tears ricochet | part i

pairing: husband's best friend!joel miller x female reader

rating: chapter - t; full work - explicit (18+ MDNI)

word count: 7k

summary: after moving from new york to texas with your fiance, you expect to jump right into wedding planning with his help. when he claims to be too busy, he suggests asking his best friend, joel miller, to help you instead.

you weren't supposed to fall in love with him.

author's note: this story is a three part fic inspired by the song "my tears ricochet" by taylor swift. this first part is reader's POV, part two will be joel's POV, and the third part will be dual POV. if you enjoy, please consider reblogging or commenting!

chapter tags: modern au, infidelity, emotional abuse, the fiance is shitty, no use of y/n, single POV (reader), wedding dress shopping and other wedding planning activities, angst, arguing, alcohol consumption/mention, kissing, no smut. please let me know if i've missed any!

major work tags: modern au, infidelity, explicit sexual content, character death

You stare out at the manicured yard, watching as guests move about the grounds and waiters in black uniforms carry trays of food and drinks through the crowd. Your boyfriend -- wait, no, fiancé -- Alex laughs boisterously with your father, a hand on his back in easy familiarity. You know you should be down there with him given that this is your engagement party, but you were starting to feel overwhelmed by the constant smiling and greeting strangers and showing off your shiny new engagement ring that you needed a break.

The door opens and a man you don't recognize steps into the room, pale blue dress shirt stretched tight across his broad chest and a pair of wrinkled dress pants. He runs a hand through his messy dark curls.

"Sorry, I didn't think anyone would be in here," he says. As he looks you over, his brown eyes go wide with surprise. "Shit, you're the bride!"

You smile at him. "That's me," you reply. You hold a hand out towards him as you give him your name, his rough palm sliding against yours as he grips it firmly.

"I'm Joel Miller," he tells you. You know the name well, being that he's your fiancé's best friend. "Didn't mean to make our first time meetin' so awkward."

"No, no, it's not your fault. I've just been feeling a little overwhelmed with all the," you wave your hand towards the window, "festivities. It's great to finally meet you."

"I don't blame ya. They can get pretty stuffy down there. Congrats, by the way."

"Thank you." He lets go of your hand. "So, why are you hiding?"

He laughs, deep and full bellied. "Alex's mom doesn't like me much. I'm sure she was hopin' that we would stop bein' friends when he went to school on the other side of the country, but I’m like a stubborn tick."

"How could she not like you, Alex told me that the two of you have been best friends since kindergarten!"

"There may have been a few mishaps in high school," he says. "You ever tried eggin' your principal's house?"

"Can't say that I have," you reply.

"Well, it doesn't end well if you get caught." He looks out the window with a smile on his face. "We got arrested. Alex's dad had to bail us out. Probably had to throw some hush money around so that it wouldn't show up on his record when he applied to school."

"He's never told me that!" You say, laughing hard enough around the words that your stomach hurts.

The door opens and this time, Alex himself steps into the room. His serious expression morphs into a smile when he sees you and Joel.

"There you are," he says, crossing the room to kiss your cheek. He greets Joel with a hug, patting his back roughly. "What are you two doing in here?"

"I just needed a minute alone," you tell him.

"And I crashed her minute alone. Told her about the time we got arrested in high school," Joel adds. Alex's jaw tenses, his smile tight as his eyes flick to you, like he's worried about your reaction. "She laughed. It's all good."

"Right. Well, I came to find you because its time for the toast and dinner," Alex says. "Let's get back down to our guests."

A hand at the small of your back urges you towards the door before you can reply.

"Alex, are you listening to me?" You ask. Your fiancé looks up from his phone.

"I'm sorry, baby, I was finishing an e-mail," he says. He sets his phone down on the table, dark screen facing up, and gives you his full attention. "What were you saying?"

"I wanted to schedule the cake tasting. Do you have any free time this week?"

He grimaces. "I don't think I do, sweetheart. Your dad's got my schedule pretty packed."

"I can just ask him to--"

"No," he says sternly. "You know I have to make a good impression with the rest of the firm."

"But--"

"Babe, no. I can't do this week. Why don't you ask my mom? Or Joel?"

While your future mother-in-law is kind enough, you don't have much patience for the way she tries to take control of your wedding planning. Joel, however, might be a good idea. He knows Alex well enough to be a stand in for a decision like cake and icing flavors.

"Could you give me Joel's number?"

Alex smiles, seemingly pleased that he's off the hook as he takes his phone in hand and sends you his best friend's phone number.

You meet Joel at the bakery that week. To your surprise he's there before you, dressed in worn jeans and a t-shirt and he smiles brightly at you as you approach.

"Hey," he says. "Ready to eat some cake?"

"I think this will be my favorite part of planning this whole wedding," you reply. He laughs as he pulls the door open for you to step inside, following in behind you.

"Welcome to Buttercup Bakery! Can I help y'all with anything?" A young woman with a name tag reading BEVERLY asks from behind the counter, pink and white apron tied around her waist.

"I have a cake tasting appointment," you reply, giving her your name for the reservation.

"Excellent! If you want to go ahead and take a seat anywhere you'd like, I'll bring out the tasting options and we'll get you squared away in no time!"

She disappears through swinging doors as you and Joel take a seat at a pink acrylic table with matching chairs. He looks around the shop with interest.

"What made you pick this place?" He asks.

"Had the best reviews," you say with a shrug. His brow furrows.

"Alex didn't suggest it? He helpin' you at all with this weddin'?"

He says it with a laugh, but the question makes you dig your fingernails into your palm. "He's just really busy with work. I've been doing a lot of the planning."

“What about your uh, what are they called? Bridesmaids?”

“They’re all back in New York. It’s just me.”

“I thought your parents were here, too? Isn’t Alex workin’ with your dad now?”

“It’s just my dad, he’s back in New York. His partner opened a firm in Austin and Alex is working with that office. He’s hoping to make partner soon, too.”

Joel nods, eyes scanning your face but you keep your expression as neutral as possible. The swinging doors open and Beverly returns with a marble tray, bites of cake artfully arranged on the surface. She sets it on the table between you and Joel.

“Okay! These are our six most popular flavor combinations for you to start with and if there’s something more custom you have in mind, we can totally make that happen,” she says. “Starting at the top, we have classic vanilla with vanilla buttercream, chocolate cake with chocolate ganache and chocolate buttercream, our signature champagne cake with strawberry buttercream, lemon cake with lavender buttercream, caramel cake with caramel mocha buttercream, and white chocolate cake with raspberry jam and white chocolate raspberry buttercream.”

Joel grins at you. “This might be the best thing anyone has ever asked me to help with.”

“I’ll leave you guys to it,” Beverly says with a wink, walking back to the counter.

“I don’t know which to start with,” you say, eyes scanning the selections.

“That chocolate one is callin’ my name,” Joel replies, spearing one of the chocolate cake bites with a fork and taking a bite. He hums appreciatively. “Oh yeah, that one is a winner.”

You choose the vanilla to start, taking a bite of the moist cake with buttercream that tastes strongly of vanilla bean with a hint of cinnamon. The simplicity makes it good, but overall the flavor doesn't stand out to you. Joel continues to take bites seemingly at random while you opt to go around the tray in the order that Beverly introduced the flavors.

"Any of them stickin' out to you?" Joel asks when you've reached the half-way point.

"They're all delicious," you reply. "I think Alex would probably like the vanilla best, though."

"I didn't ask what Alex would like, I asked if there were any that you liked." He spears the remaining piece of white chocolate raspberry with his fork and holds it up to you. "Here, try this one next."

You eye the fork dubiously. "I don't think--"

Joel slips the bite of cake into your mouth despite your interrupted disagreement, smiling at you triumphantly. You chew the bite begrudgingly.

"I think that one and the chocolate one are my favorite," Joel says as you swallow.

Beverly returns at that moment, a notepad in hand as she pulls up a third chair to the tiny bistro table.

“So? What are your thoughts?”

“I think I’m going to get the vanilla,” you tell her. Joel’s jaw ticks, almost like he’s upset you’ve chosen the flavor that you said Alex would like. “But, could I get alternating tiers of the white chocolate raspberry, too?”

Joel’s lips quirk up in a small smile and you try to ignore the way it makes your stomach flip.

Joel: Have you picked flowers yet?

Not yet.

Joel: I know a place. You busy today?

You stare the at the message in surprise. You weren’t expecting to hear from Joel again, but his name on your screen has you fighting back a smile.

I’m not busy. When did you want to go?

Joel: They open at noon. Here’s the address.

“Baby, have you seen my blue tie?” Alex calls from upstairs. You drop your phone to the counter like you’ve been caught doing something wrong.

“Which one?” You reply, pressing a hand to your chest.

“The plaid one!”

“Should be in your tie drawer!”

“It’s not here!”

You pinch your nose, making your way to the stairs to join him in your shared bedroom. He’s standing in front of his tie drawer, hands on his hips as he stares at the contents. You peek over his shoulder and reach into the back, pulling out the neatly folded blue and green patterned tie.

He takes it from your hand. “That one should be towards the front. Can you remember that next time you put away dry cleaning?”

“Sure.” You bite your lip to hold back the sigh that threatens to spill. “You want me to tie it for you?”

“No, thanks, I need it to be perfect. Big meeting,” he says, his lips tilted in a smile that feels condescending. He leans into you, pressing a kiss to your cheek. “Love you.”

“Love you, too,” you murmur, watching his back as he enters the bathroom and shuts the door behind him.

Joel is waiting outside of a dark green storefront when you arrive at the address he’d sent you. He smiles when he sees you, a true one that makes the corners of his eyes crinkle slightly, and it gives you this strange feeling of emptiness because you can’t remember the last time Alex smiled at you like that.

When you’re close enough, he pulls you into a hug that envelops you in strong arms and the scent of woods at nightfall with a hint of citrus. Your eyes flutter shut as you hug him back and breathe him in.

He releases you and immediately you feel a chill in losing his warmth despite the oppressive Texas heat. You look at the shop as he steps back, taking in the gorgeous floral arrangements in the window and cursive script painted on the glass that says PETAL TO THE METAL.

Joel opens the door to the shop, a brass bell ringing to announce your entrance. A man at the counter in the center of the store looks up and grins at you both.

“Joel! Nice to see you,” the man says. You watch as they shake hands with familiarity, the man behind the counter smiling kindly. “You must be the bride. I’m Frank.”

You give Joel a look of surprise before introducing yourself and shaking Frank’s hand. “It’s nice to meet you. Do you two know each other?”

“Joel’s an old friend of ours.”

“Ours?”

A back door bangs open, someone emerging with their arms so full of potted plants you can’t see their face. A deep voice let’s out a series of curses.

“This is my partner, Bill,” Frank says. “He’s not much of a people person. Great with plants, though.”

“A little help would be nice,” Bill grunts. Frank rolls his eyes but leaves the counter to take a couple pots from Bill’s hands, revealing a man with long brown hair and a grizzled expression hidden amongst a thick beard. Frank leans in and kisses his cheek.

“You need only ask,” Frank says. Bill’s cheeks turn pink beneath his thick facial hair. Despite the annoyed expression on his face, his eyes are soft as he watches Frank. “Let me grab you the event portfolio and we can talk about your wedding. Have a look around.”

As Frank leaves and Bill busies himself arranging the new plants, you and Joel wander the shop and take in aisles and shelves of different flowers with little gold name cards in their pots or on their buckets.

“So,” Joel says, “How are you liking Austin?”

“It’s…hot,” you reply. “Really, really hot.”

“That’s the south for ya, sweetheart.”

Your face grows hot at the endearment and how it seemed to just roll off his tongue. “Have you lived in Austin your whole life?”

“Texas born n’ bred,” he says proudly, puffing his chest out.

“You never wanted to live anywhere else?”

“I’ve always thought Wyoming sounded nice. A farm that I built, some sheep, no neighbors for miles,” he says wistfully. “Maybe someday.”

“Building a farm, huh? You good with your hands, Joel?”

He blinks at you. “Y-yeah. I mean, I’m a contractor. I gotta be.”

“That’s impressive,” you tell him, biting your lip to hold back your laughter at his flustered response.

Frank approaches, lifting a heavy book in his hands. “You ready to pick some flowers?”

Joel holds the door open for you as the two of you leave the flower shop an hour later. He waves goodbye to Bill and Frank with a promise to visit them for dinner soon before following you down the sidewalk.

“You wanna get lunch?” Joel offers. “My treat.”

You pull your phone from your pocket to check your messages and finding none from Alex, you think to yourself, why not?

“Sure,” you agree.

That's how you find yourself sitting on a bench in the park with Joel Miller, your husband's best friend, talking to him about everything and nothing as you eat street tacos from a food truck nearby. He makes you laugh so hard you choke on birria, the sauce dripping down your chin. He reaches out, wiping the mess with a brown napkin while he smiles so bright it puts the sun to shame.

Later that night, while you're in bed, you can't help but think today was the best day you've had in a long time.

And you're not sure what that means.

You begin texting Joel regularly. You ask him for his opinion on things that Alex can’t be bothered with — the suit colors for the groomsmen (navy blue), the invitation stationary (the linen finish), and favors (miniature bottles of hot sauce - Joel assures you this will be a hit with the Texas crowd). In between those conversations, he sends you pictures from his construction sites or asks you how your day has been and whether you had gotten the chance to check out that show he recommended.

When you tell Alex about the wedding decisions you've made, leaving out the extent of Joel's help, he hums and nods at the appropriate intervals, feigning attentiveness while his thumb moves rapidly across his phone screen. It should bother you, you think, that your future husband is so uninvolved with planning his own wedding, but then your own phone lights up with Joel’s name and a goofy photo he sent from a construction site, his hard hat askew on his head and his eyes crossed, and your annoyance with Alex fades into background noise.

There’s one last item on your checklist that you’re more nervous to ask Joel for help with than the others — dress shopping. You could probably fly back to New York and be with your friends for the momentous occasion but you’re certain that Alex wouldn’t appreciate your absence for something he considers so frivolous.

Not that you say anything when he’s gone for his golfing trips.

You’re staring at Joel’s contact screen, working up the nerve to call him and ask him if he’d be willing to come dress shopping with you, when it lights up with an incoming call, his name at the top of the screen like just your thoughts summoned him. You answer on the third ring.

“Hey, I was just about to call you,” you tell him.

“So that’s why my ears were itchin’,” he laughs. “You need somethin’?”

You take a steadying breath. “I just have one more thing I need help with and then you won’t have to deal with me.”

“I don’t mind helpin’ you, sweetheart.” You stomach flutters at the nickname and he clears his throat to fill the loaded silence that follows his words. “Now, tell me what you need.”

“Could you come dress shopping with me?”

“That all? Just tell me where and when,” he says. You breathe a sigh of relief, giving him the details of the appointment you made at a local boutique. He promises to meet you there this weekend before hanging up.

The word sweetheart in Joel’s deep voice echoes through your mind for the rest of the day.

Joel looks hilariously out of place on the pristine white couch located in the middle of the dress boutique, a dainty glass of champagne held in his large hand. You sit beside him, your legs touching as you watch the sales associate flit around the store, pulling hangers of dresses from the racks.

“That’s a lot of dresses,” Joel comments, taking a sip of champagne.

“You not up for the challenge?” You tease. He laughs, the corners of his eyes crinkling with his wide smile.

“Trust me, I’m up for the challenge. We’re goin’ to find you the best damn weddin’ dress Texas has ever seen,” he promises.

“Alright, I’ve got some gorgeous choices here for you,” the associate announces, holding up a handful of ivory hangers draped in all types of fabric from satin to chiffon. “You wanna follow me and we’ll get started?”

You follow her to the fitting room and she sets the hangers on a rack, fanning out the dresses so that you can get a better look. There’s five of them in a variety of styles, including an impressive ball gown boasting layers of tulle that trails to the floor.

“I’ll try that one first,” you tell her, pointing to ball gown.

“What’s your fiancé’s name?” She asks as you undress, taking the gown from the hanger and arranging it on the floor for you to step into it.

“Alex,” you reply. She drags the bodice up and instructs you to hold it to your chest while she laces up the corset back.

“I think it’s sweet that you’ve brought him with you.”

“Oh, no. That’s Joel, he’s my husband’s best friend.”

“Really?” She asks, the strings tightening around your waist. “The way you two look at each other, I would have bet money he was the one marrying you." You're about to ask what she means when she finishes tying off the bodice and says, "Wow, this dress is stunning on you."

Her comment retreats to the back of your mind as you look at yourself in the mirror. The strapless white gown hugs your chest and waist, flaring out into a layered skirt with lace appliques. There's beading on the sweetheart neckline that trails down the bodice in intricate patterns that catch the light of the fitting room. The dress is stunning.

Marnie leads you back out to the showroom, helping you step up onto a raised platform in front of a trifold mirror that shows you your reflection from multiple angles. You twist and turn, taking in all the details of it before finally facing Joel.

"Damn," Joel says. "That sure is one hell of a dress."

"It's...a lot." You twist your hips from side to side, the heavy skirt swishing across the floor. "I feel like a cupcake and I don't know if I'll be able to dance in it."

"You wanna test it out?"

He's standing before you can respond, reaching a hand into yours to guide you down from the pedestal. When you're on the floor, he wraps an arm around your low back, pulling you close while swaying side to side.

The world around you goes a little blurry and the only thing in perfect clarity is Joel. The feel of his hand in yours, the weight of his arm at the small of your back, the clean smell of soap and citrus, everything is just....Joel.

"How's it feel?" He asks, voice low. You tilt your head back to look up at his face.

"Huh?"

"The dress...dancin'...how's it feel?"

The question drags you back to reality, where you're currently dancing around a bridal salon with a man who isn't your fiance. You pull away from him, returning to the pedestal as the bridal associate joins the two of you again.

"Uh...I don't think this is the dress for me. Can we try the next one?"

You try on two other dresses in quick succession, neither of them leaving a lasting impression. It's the fourth dress that really gives you pause as you look at yourself in the fitting room mirror.

"Honey," the associate says, adjusting the off-the-shoulder sleeves of the dress, "This dress was made for you."

The scooped neckline highlights the lines and curves of your neck and shoulders, the corset bodice hugging your curves in satin folds. The skirt fans out from the waist, similar to the silhouette of the ball gown without all the additional weight and fabric and a thigh high slit allows for some extra movement.

She leads you back out into the showroom and helps you once more onto the pedestal. You grin at your reflection as she fixes the skirt into place.

"Well?" You ask, catching Joel's eye in the mirror. His mouth is set in a serious line, brows pinched together and his arms crossed over his chest. You own smile falters. "You don't like it? What's with the look?"

He shakes his head, his serious expression morphing into a smile that doesn't reach his eyes. "You look..." His voice trails off and he clears his throat. "Alex is a lucky son of a bitch."

You laugh, lifting the skirt so that you can step off the pedestal. Joel's eyes drop, his gaze fixing on the skirt as you walk towards him.

"You think so?" You ask quietly, stepping in close.

"Yeah, sweetheart," he murmurs. A single finger runs down your arm, goosebumps erupting over your skin in its wake. "I know so."

With the wedding plans finalized, your attention returns to your work as a web design consultant. Your client portfolio starts to build once more, keeping you busy in the months leading up to your big day. Alex remains focused on his work at the firm, working long days and longer nights that have him arriving home well after you've gone to bed, the two of you just ships passing in the dark. You would feel lonely, you think, if not for Joel.

The two of you still message each other frequently, though you don't see him again until a month before the wedding, when Alex invites him over for dinner one Saturday night.

The doorbell rings just as you put the chicken in the oven and you wipe your hands before going to answer it, your heart racing. Joel's sweet smile greets you when you open the door and seeing him across the threshold has the tension in your shoulders easing the slightest bit.

He steps across the threshold, strong arms wrapping around your waist in a tight hug. Footsteps on the stairs have him releasing you far sooner than you would have liked.

"Joel, my man! Glad you could make it," Alex says as he reaches the first floor. "Honey, is the table set?"

"No, not yet," you reply.

"You need any help?" Joel asks. You open your mouth to respond, but Alex jumps in to say, "No, she's got this. Let me give you the tour."

You watch as Alex leads Joel upstairs, commanding his friend's attention. You swallow down the anger that rises in your throat at your fiancé's dismissal and return to the kitchen, gathering the place settings and arranging the table to his liking.

"It's a nice place," Joel says as the two men enter the living room, which opens to the kitchen and dining areas.

"All that work finally paying off," Alex comments. You roll your eyes, fighting the urge to mention that you were the one who fronted the down payment for Alex's choice of home in Texas. The oven beeps and you pull out the chicken parmesan that had been baking.

"Smells good," Joel comments. You look up, catching his eye. A wordless understanding passes between you, a quiet appreciation that makes your blood run hot.

You plate the food while your fiancé uncorks a bottle of wine and pours it into the wine glasses at each place setting. Alex settles in at head of the table and Joel takes the seat to the left, leaving you with the seat to Alex's right, across from Joel.

The three of you make small talk between bites of dinner and sips of wine. Alex asks Joel about the contracting work he's been doing, Joel asks him about his work at the new office and how he's settling in, being back in his home state. It's halfway through dinner that Joel looks to you and asks, "Are you excited for the wedding next month?"

"Of course," you reply, fingers tangling in the cloth napkin resting across your lap. "Planning it was a labor of love."

"Right, thanks for helping her with the cake, man," Alex chimes in.

Joel chuckles. "Helped with a lot more than just the cake."

"What do you mean?" Alex asks, glancing between the two of you.

"Well, I helped get the flowers, the cake, pickin' out the stationary. Dress shoppin'," Joel clarifies. Your stomach drops as Alex's jaw grows tense, his brow pinched as he nods and pastes on a forced smile.

"Wow, I didn't realize you'd been so involved," Alex says. He removes the napkin from his lap, setting it on the table. "Would you excuse us for a second?"

Alex stands, looking down at you expectantly. You smile at him and Joel in turn, but the expression feels hollow and you taste bile in the back of your throat. As soon as you're on your feet, Alex has a strong hand wrapped around your wrist, urging you along behind him as he makes his way towards the stairs.

Once he's reached your shared bedroom, he turns to you, eyes filled with rage. “What the fuck is that about?”

“What do you mean?” You ask. He laughs, the sound devoid of any humor.

“He helped you pick out your dress?” Alex paces the length of the bedroom like a caged animal and for the first time in your relationship with him, a frisson of fear courses through your veins. “You can’t possibly be that fucking stupid?”

“Excuse me?” You snap. “You told me to ask him for his help!”

“With the cake!” Alex shouts. “Not the entire goddamn wedding! Do you have any idea how that makes me feel?”

“You weren’t exactly offering much help, Alex!”

His eyes narrow. “I thought you would be perfectly capable of planning shit on your own, but I guess that was giving you too much credit.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” You ask. “Why are you being such a fucking asshole right now?”

“Because you’re my fiancé, not Joel’s!” He steps in close, towering above you as he hisses, “Did you fuck him?”

“No!” You shout.

His eyes search yours and whatever he finds seems to extinguish his anger, his coiled muscles loosening. He grips your shoulders, pressing his forehead to yours.

“I’m sorry,” he murmurs. “Why don’t you head back downstairs and I’ll stay up here for a minute to cool off, okay?”

The sudden switch leaves your head spinning but you manage to nod. Alex kisses your forehead and you take that as your cue to leave, escaping the confines of your room. In the hall, you grip the banister of the loft that overlooks the living room and take the first real breath in what feels like ages, your eyes squeezed shut as you try to calm your racing heart.

You return to the kitchen and Joel’s head snaps up when you enter. He rises from his seat at the table, rushing to your side.

“Are you okay?” He asks, low voice filled with concern, his brows pinched with worry. “What the fuck was that?”

“Just a misunderstanding,” you murmur, pushing past him.

“That’s bullshit,” he hisses. “Is he always like that?”

“Like what?” You sigh.

“An asshole. Yellin’ and threatenin’ you.” His fists are clenched at his sides. “He ever hit you?”

“What? No, of course not.” You take a deep breath, beating back the wave of tears pressing at the corners of your eyes. “He’s just got a lot going on with the move and work and the wedding.”

Joel is quiet, watching you with keen brown eyes that you, for once, wish weren’t focused on you. He steps close, voice low as he says, “Be honest with me, sweetheart.”

“I’m fine, Joel,” you tell him. The lie claws at your throat and sends your stomach into a tailspin. “I promise.”

Footsteps echo on the stairs and you step away from Joel, busying yourself with loading the dishwasher, clearing the counters, anything to keep your hands occupied and stop their shaking. Alex enters the kitchen with a sharp smile.

“Hey, man, sorry about that,” he says, clapping Joel on the shoulder. “I think we’re ready to call it a night. Ain’t that right, honey?”

You force yourself to keep your eyes on Alex as you smile and say, “Yeah, baby.”

“Let me walk you out, Joel,” Alex says. “Honey, say bye.”

“Goodbye, Joel.”

Joel: Hey

Joel: You having a good week?

Joel: Been a while. You doing okay?

Joel: You’ve been quiet

Joel: I need to know you’re okay.

Joel: Just let me know

Joel: Please

“Just two more days until you’re my wife,” Alex says, pressing a kiss to your lips. He smiles at you and you mirror the expression as best you can.

“I can't wait,” you reply.

"I gotta get going," Alex says. He presses a kiss to your cheek as he passes where you're sitting at the bar. "Love you."

"Love you," you repeat, out of reflex more than affection.

The front door slams shut and quiet settles over the house. All you want to do is crawl back into bed and pull the covers over your head in the hopes that it protects you from the way time continues to creep forward despite your uncertainties. Maybe, if you lay there long enough, time will move on without your involvement.

Your thoughts are interrupted by a heavy knock at the door. You’re not sure who it could be — your dad is scheduled to fly into town in the late afternoon and your friends arrive early tomorrow morning and you’re fairly certain you don’t have any deliveries scheduled. Sliding from the bar stool, you leave the kitchen to answer the door.

Joel stands on the other side of the threshold, haloed by the morning sun. For a brief moment, you wonder if you’re dreaming.

“What are you doing here?” You finally ask.

“Can I come in?” He replies, running a hand through his already messy hair. “I need to talk to you.”

You step aside and allow him to enter the hallway, shutting the door behind him. You avoid his gaze as you return to the living room with him following behind you. The silence that settles between the two of you makes you want to crawl out of your skin.

"Why haven't you been talkin' to me?" Joel asks. He takes a step closer, brown eyes searching yours for an answer you try to keep hidden.

"I've been busy," you say.

"Cut the bullshit," he snaps, surprising you. "Is it because of what happened at dinner?"

"No," you reply. Joel must sense the brief hesitation, hear the weakness in your voice. His eyes go soft, full of pity, and you can't fucking stand it. "Don't look at me like that."

"Look, I've known Alex a long time, and all those years weren't exactly peachy," he says cryptically. "I love him like a brother but even family ain't without faults.” He steps in close, his hands cradling your face in a delicate grip. “Tell me this is what you want," he demands. "Tell me that you're happy with Alex. Tell me that there's nothin' here between us."

The words are there, right on the tip of your tongue, but nothing can bring them to life. Your heart beats a frantic rhythm against your ribcage, the rush of blood in your ears the only thing you can hear. He leans closer, eyes dropping to your lips and you know what's about to happen next but you can't bear the thought of stopping him as he closes the scant distance between your mouths.

For the briefest moment, you allow yourself the chance to just feel. No thoughts, no panic, no worry. Just Joel's warm lips moving against yours, the trace of his palm from you cheek to behind your head, pulling you closer even though you're already tightly pressed to him. It's slow and deep, like he's trying to convince you down to your marrow that this is where you're supposed to be.

But it's not.

You push him away and he doesn't fight you, but the look he gives you damn near shatters your resolve. His eyes are dark, jaw tense, hands flexing at his sides like he's fighting the urge to reach out and pull you back, damn the consequences. Your eyes and throat burn with the effort of holding back the tears that threaten to spill.

"You need to leave," you whisper. "You can't do this, we can't do this. I'm getting married in two days, Joel!"

He runs a hand through his hair, pulling on the strands in frustration. "You think I don't know that? You think I don't lay awake at night thinkin' what a fuckin' asshole I am for fallin' in love with my best friend's fiancé?!" He shouts.

"This isn't love, Joel--"

"Don't," he snaps. "Don't you lie to me. I know it, you know it, hell, the fuckin' lady at the dress shop knew it!" He takes a deep breath. "I'm showin' you my whole hand here and you won't even lay down a goddamn card!"

"There is no card!" You shout.

"You kissed me back!" He counters.

You stare at each other for a long moment, like two scared, wounded animals. Eventually, one of you has to back down, retreat, lick their wounds until they've healed in a messy pattern of scar tissue that will serve as a painful reminder of what could have been.

Joel sighs, another pass of his hand through his hair as he says, "You know what? Fine." He turns to leave, the line of his shoulder lower, his head low.

A glutton for punishment, you call out, "Joel?"

"Yeah?" He asks, weary. Bone tired. You feel it, too.

"Will you still be there tomorrow?" You ask, unsure of which answer would be worse.

Another sigh. "Yeah. I'll be there."

The door slams shut behind him.

Your rehearsal dinner is torture.

This should be one of the happiest events of your life but all your energy is being directed at avoiding Joel like the plague. He moves through the crowd comfortably, having known many people in attendance for most of his life, and you feel like an unmoored boat, hoping a wave doesn't crash over you.

Alex sits beside you, drinking from a glass of whiskey as he talks to one of his uncles that has been praising him for landing the opportunity to work with such a prestigious law firm right after college. A dizzying rotation of people approach you through the night - friends who chatter excitedly about the big day tomorrow, aunts who ask when you think you'll have children, uncles who tell you that they're proud of you for landing such a successful, promising young man. It's those last comments that have you hiding a frown in your champagne glass.

It drags on forever, this constant stream of polite conversation and forced smiles. When you finally return to the hotel that you're staying at for the night, you start to feel like you can breathe again. You have a suite separate from Alex's for getting ready early in the morning and he walks you to your room, hand on your low back, a smile on his face.

"I'll see you in the morning," he says, pressing a chaste kiss to your lips. "My almost wife."

The sentiment has bile rising in your throat and as he turns to leave you're blurting the words, "I can't do this."

"Sweetheart, you're just nervous," he says, voice surprisingly calm. He squeezes your shoulders. "You just need to sleep it off and everything will be fine in the morning."

"No," you tell him, shaking your head. "No, it won't be fine."

His smile drops, like a mask has just been removed. "Where is this coming from? Everything was fine at the rehearsal."

"Everything was not fine at the rehearsal!"

Alex takes the room key from your hands, unlocked the door and ushering you inside. He flicks on the light to the sitting area and takes a seat on the couch.

"What's going on with you?" He asks, exasperation dripping from his words. "What do you mean the rehearsal wasn't fine? Did you not like the food or something?"

You stare at him incredulously. "The problem wasn't the food, Alex! The problem is us!"

"There's no problem with us," he says. "Unless there's something you want to tell me?"

"What do you mean?" You ask.

He stands, coming close. "Is this about Joel?"

"No!" You snap, perhaps too quickly. "This isn't about Joel."

"Then what is it? Because as far as I know, we're a perfectly happy couple."

"Perfectly happy? Alex, you didn't even help me plan this wedding. Not a single minute of it."

"Not this again," he groans. "Sweetheart, let it go. I'm sorry, okay? Is that what you need to hear?"

Your jaw aches with how hard your teeth grind together as he dismisses you so easily. A deep breath in through your nose and out through your mouth steadies you enough to say, "I'm not marrying you."

"Baby, please," Alex says. For the first time, he sounds panicked. "Don't make any rash decisions, alright? Whatever this is, we can work through it. If I lose you, I lose everything."

Maybe he's right. Maybe the stress of the last few months has just caught up to you.

"Okay," you whisper. He breathes a sigh of relief and presses another kiss to your temple.

"I love you," he says. "Everything will be okay after tomorrow. You'll see."

You don't say anything back, and he doesn't wait around for a response. He leaves your suite, the click of the door shutting loud in the late night silence. You stand there for who knows how long, wondering if he's right. Would everything be alright after tomorrow? Could you sweep those lingering feelings for Joel to the side in favor of the life you'd been building for the last few years?

You know what the safe choice is, but is it the right choice?

It's the morning of your wedding day and you've been poked and prodded with makeup brushes and your hair has been perfectly styled for the occasion. Flashbulbs have been going off on the cameras that are documenting your special day, capturing moments like your bridesmaids helping you into your dress and your dad's first look, a handkerchief clutched in his hand as he smiled at you.

For the first time in hours, you're alone in your suite. The makeup artist and hair stylists have packed up and taken their leave and your friends are downstairs, waiting for the limousine. You told them you would be just a minute longer.

A soft knock at your door has you realizing that you may have taken too long and you shout an apology as you rush to answer it. But it's not one of your friends on the other side like you had expected.

It's Joel.

Your mouth goes dry at the sight of him. His hair is styled, curls smoothed and slicked back into submission. His white shirt is a stark contrast to his navy blue tuxedo, matching bow tie tight around his neck. His boutonnière is slightly crooked where it sits pinned to his jacket lapel. He looks you up and down with a small smile.

"You look beautiful," he says. He reaches for your hand, fingers tangling with yours. Never quite folding together, but never quite letting go, either.

"Thank you," you whisper.

"Are you ready?" He asks. You wonder if he knows, if Alex told him or if he can just see it on your face.

"Yes."

It's a lie, one you've been repeating since your alarm went off this morning after a night of tossing and turning. His smile falters, but doesn't drop.

"Good, that's....good," he says. His hand leaves yours, and you feel like you've had an entire unspoken conversation that's left you both defeated. "Lets go get you married."

Joel Miller masterlist

All masterlists

divider graphic by @saradika-graphics.

[cheapshrimpysheep]

For the request thing, might be dark but holing it's more angst/scary -> Fluff. NRC First years (or any boy you wanna write about) get a phone call from Fem!reader in the night, they think they hear someone breaking into Ramshackle and are scared, the boys' rush in to rescue/protect reader. (Up to you if there is actually someone breaking in or its just old house noises/Grim or ghosts rummaging around etc) thank you for your lovely work thus far!

COMMENTS: Hi! Thank you. 😊 First I just wanted to say that the way I wrote it doesn't make any difference if it's a Fem Reader, so I did it for a GN Reader like I always do. I also apologize that Ace and Deuce's parts are the shortest, it just happened. 😔

More recently I also have less time to write, which is why this one took so long to finish. But I hope you and all like it.❤️

BTW: I used Bard to help me with Epel's dialect. 😜

CHARACTERS: Freshmen (Ace Trappola; Deuce Spade; Jack Howl; Epel Felmier; Sebek Zigvolt)

TAGS: Fluff; GN Reader

WORD COUNT: An average of 490 words per character.

CONTEXT: You had stayed in the bedroom while Grim went downstairs to do something. Probably for a snack. But then you hear him shouting your name as if asking for help.

Knowing that without magic you could be in even more danger than Grim, you pick up your cell phone and call the first contact that appears.

“What's your deal calling so late, hum?” Ace says when he answers you. “It can be off with my head for this, you know?” You explain to him what happened. “Ah, so you called me to come and protect you, is that it?” he says smugly. “You're probably just exaggerating. Maybe Grim is asking for help because he realized he already ate all the-” he noticed that the call was suddenly cut. “Oi, Prefect?... (Y/N)?... (Y/N)?!”

Ace ran out of Heartslabyul without passing anyone who could stop him. Even though he knew he would have problems when he returned.

When he arrived at Ramshackle Dorm, he cautiously approached the door, trying to listen for something to know what state things were in and what situation you were in. But he can't hear anything.

Until you scream! He tries to open the door but it is locked. So he decides to break it in with magic, and runs to the lounge where you were.

“(Y/N)!” He runs to the lounge instinctively, automatically pointing his magic pen at whoever is there with you. Grim and the ghosts scream at being surprised by Ace and he realizes it's just you and them in the dorm.

“Wha- What is going on?!” He asks “You called me because you thought someone was breaking into the dorm. And I come running here to find out that nothing happened?”

You tell Ace that technically you never talked about someone breaking into the dorm, and that after all he was right and Grim was melodramatically asking for help because he had nothing to snack on.

“So what was that about the call hanging up while we were talking?” Your cell phone has run out of battery. “And the scream just now?” The ghosts had decided to take advantage of the situation to prank on you.

Ace was upset, probably as much as you were.

“Serious? All this rush for nothing. How am I going to explain this to the housewarden? I'm going to lose my head at this hour.” He looks at you with that sly smile. “You know, this is your fault. I came running here because you hinted that you were in danger. I think I deserve compensation. What if you let me sleep here tonight?

“If you get in charge of fixing the door that you just broke into.” Grim says.

“I did it because I thought it was an emergency!”

“Oh yeah? We can always settle this in Heartslabyul's court.”

“Fine, fine, I'll fix the door.” He looks at you “Can I sleep here tonight then?”

“Hi (Y/N). It's really late for you to be calling, is something wrong?” You explain to Deuce what happened. “Don't leave your room! Stay safe there, I'm on my way!” He hangs up the call and runs out of Heartslabyul without passing anyone who could stop him. He doesn't think twice because you wouldn't be the type to play a prank like that on him. Right?

When Deuce arrives at Ramshackle, he calls your cell phone. But you don't answer. Which worries him even more. He runs to the front door and tries to open it. Obviously it was locked. So he breaks it open with a mix of brute force and magic... or maybe a cauldron.

“(Y/N)! GRIM!” He calls.

“DEUCE?!” He hears the incredulous voice of you and Grim in unison. They were coming from the lounge, so he runs there. To find you, Grim and the ghosts safe and sound.

“Are you guys okay? What happened?”

You explain to him that after all, Grim was just melodramatically asking for help because he had nothing to snack on.

“Oh... That's a relief, I think. But why didn't you answer me then? I called you before I came in.” Your cell phone had run out of battery. He sighs and smiles at you. “Well, I'm glad it was just a misunderstanding and that you're okay.” All of his priorities at that moment were knowing that you were safe, so much so that it didn't even occur to him to ask any more questions.

You hear the door that Deuce had just broken down creaking in the wind. “I am so sorry!” he says “I can fix the door, don't worry.”

But the wind starts to get stronger, and thinking about the problems he will have when he returns, you invite him to sleep in Ramshackle Dorm that night.

“Are you sure?” He asks, as if he also said he didn't want to bother. It's the least you can do for him. And you will talk to Riddle to explain what happened and stop him from cutting off Deuce's head.

“Thank you so much (Y/N).” He smiles at you. “I promise I'll fix the door tomorrow.”

“Hello (Y/N). Is something wrong?” Jack knew that for you to be calling at that time there was little chance of it being for a simple conversation. You explain to him what happened. “Did you hear any other strange noises?” You say there was absolutely nothing else, which also worries you. And at that moment you start to hear the wood on the floor creak as if someone was climbing the stairs. “Stay safe in your room! I’m on my way!”

The thing is that when you called him, he was already getting ready for bed. So he quickly changed his clothes with the help of magic and ran out of Savanaclaw right to Ramshackle Dorm. Making sure not to wake up any of the Savanaclaw students who might already be asleep, especially Leona.

When he arrives, he uses his signature spell to transform into a wolf and sniff the outside of the dorm to try to notice if there was any different smell, from someone other than you and Grim perhaps. But he doesn't notice anything strange in the air. Which meant that either there was nothing strange going on or whoever showed up was really good at hiding their tracks.

He approaches the front door and tries to listen inside. And that's when he hears you scream. He wastes no more time, breaks down the door in his wolf form and follows the trail of your scent to you. Upstairs. In your bedroom.

As soon as a huge white wolf appears at the door of your bedroom, Grim and the ghosts are the ones who scream this time. No one else was there with you. Jack returns to his beastman form.

“What happened? Did someone break into the dorm? Have they already run away?” He still had his defensive and ready to attack posture.

You apologize to him and explain that Grim's cry for help was nothing more than him being melodramatic when he discovered he was out of snacks.

“So who was coming up the stairs when you called me?”

After Grimm screams, the ghosts appear and they thought it was an excellent opportunity to scare you. They had just jump-scared you before Jack showed up. Up until then they had been making strange noises to build the suspense.

“And did you find that funny?!” Jack shouts at them. “This could have been an emergency! You shouldn't joke about something like that!” He starts to calm down as the ghosts apologize and Grim says it wasn't out of spite. And he remembers one thing. He puts his hand on the back of his neck and rubs it. “Oh, um... I... I ended up breaking down your door to get in. I'm sorry. I'll fix it.”

After all that and at a time like that, you invite Jack to sleep in Ramshackle Dorm. It's the least you can do for getting him into all that mess.

“Well, that would be very helpful. Especially because I don't want to risk waking up anyone in my dorm when I get back. But... are you sure?” You could see his tail starting to wag a little.

“Good evening (Y/N).” Epel greets you “Is everything alright?” You explain to him what happened. “Hmm?! M-Maybe it's nothing serious. D-Do you have any way of knowing what happened safely? You know, without you being noticed if someone is there I mean?”

You say you'll try and Epel hears you walking and leaving the door of your bedroom but then he stops hearing anything.

“(Y/N)? Can you hear me?... (Y/N)?!” He looks at his cell phone and sees that the call has disconnected. “Land sakes alive, what have I done now? I gotta get on over there right this minute!” AKA: "AH! What have I done? I have to go there! NOW!"

He changes his clothes as quickly as possible with the help of magic and runs out of Pomefiore. Praying that no one spots him and stops him. The part about someone stopping him didn't happen, now the part about being seen or noticed could be another story.

When he arrives at Ramshackle Dorm he tries to call you again, but it seems like your cell phone is turned off. He prepares his magic pen and thinks about breaking the door with magic. But then he realizes that he can make your situation worse, since he doesn't know what's happening inside.

Until he hears you scream and then he forgets all his pacifist options and breaks down the door as his instinct was telling him to do.

“(Y/N)?!” he calls for you.

“EPEL?!” He hears your incredulous voice. It was coming from the lounge, so he runs there. To find you, Grim and the ghosts safe and sound.

"What in tarnation happened? Y'all alright?"

You explain to him that after all, Grim was just melodramatically asking for help because he had nothing to snack on.

“You're pulling my leg, ain't you? All this hullabaloo over a little snack?” You, Grim and the ghosts look at him confused. He clears his throat. “I mean, all this fuss for a late night snack?” He looks at Grim in annoyance. “Wait!” He looks at you. “What about your cell phone? The call dropped and I couldn't call you anymore.”

You explain that you ran out of battery on it.

“And your scream just now?”

The ghosts had decided to take advantage of the situation to prank on you. He looks at the ghosts with the same look of annoyance that he looked at Grim. Epel takes a deep breath and sighs. You all heard the wind making the now broken door creak.

“Ah! The door!” He realizes. “I’m so sorry. I break it to get in. I can fix it, I promise. I can make it as good as new. I can make it look like new. Since you'll probably need a new one anyway. I´m sorry... again.”

After all that, at a time like that, and thinking about the problems he will have when he returns, you invite Epel to sleep in Ramshackle Dorm. And you say that you will explain everything to Vil, especially the fact that Epel did that because he thought you were in danger.

“R-Really?! Um, but are you sure it's okay for me to sleep here tonight?”

“HUMAN!” Sebek shout at your ear. “What is your business calling me at an unacceptable hour like this?” You explain to him what happened. “Don't be ridiculous! I'm sure nothing serious could be happening.” You hear footsteps coming up the stairs and approaching your bedroom. You tell him this. “Are you saying those footsteps sound like a human and not Grim?” The call hangs up. “Human?... (Y/N)! I DEMAND THAT YOU ANSWER ME RIGHT NOW IF YOU ARE LISTENING TO ME!” But he doesn't hear anything else.

Under normal circumstances he would notify Lilia and ask for permission to leave Diasomnia at an hour like that. But he was also trained to act in emergencies and this was one of those times. He cannot waste any time and must leave immediately for Ramshackle Dorm.

Despite his temperament, he was trained to know how to act in these types of situations. He must first analyze what is happening and only then create a plan. Otherwise he takes the risk of making things even worse and in the worst case scenario, your life will end because of his irresponsibility. He approaches the door and listens. Things were calm, too calm. Until he hears you scream!

He immediately breaks down the door with just his strength and takes out his magic pen. He hears movement upstairs. In your room. He runs there and when he arrives, his warning shout gives a heart-stopping scare to everyone there with you. Which is just Grim and the ghosts.

“WHAT HAPPENED? I REQUEST A REPORT IMMEDIATELY!”

You explain to him that after all, Grim was just melodramatically asking for help because he had nothing to snack on. And then he and the ghosts decided to take advantage of the situation to play a trick on you.

“Was that why you screamed before I came in?” He asks. You confirm. “What about your cell phone? The call ended after you told me you heard someone coming up the stairs.” Your cell phone ran out of battery.

“HOW CAN YOU BE SO CARELESS? You should always have your greatest means of communication ready for an emergency!” He then looks at Grim. “AND YOU! You should redefine your priorities! Asking for help over a snack is unacceptable!” Before Grim can complain, he finally looks at the ghosts, but still referring to Grim as well. “And what you did, from what I know, humans call it a prank. I always found them unnecessary and ridiculous. And look how right I am! UNACCEPTABLE TO BE USED IN A SITUATION LIKE THIS!”

Grim starts arguing with Sebek until the ghosts say he's right. That was a mean joke at a bad time and they apologize to both you and Sebek. Which brings a smug to his face.

You hear a creak, the wind passing through the broken door.

“Do you see where your joke took you? You made me break down the door thinking it was a rescue.”

“You broke her because you wanted to!” Grim responds. “We didn't force you into anything!”

Sebek sighs, annoyed. “Very well, I'll find a way to fix the door. BUT MAY THIS BE THE LAST TIME YOU TRICK (Y/N) TO THE POINT OF CALLING ME TO COME HERE!”

After all that and at a time like that, you invite Sebek to sleep in Ramshackle Dorm.

“Don't worry.” He says “There will be no such need. Just as I came here, I can easily return without any problems.” But if you say that you feel bad about making him go to Ramshackle Dorm for nothing and that it is the least you can do for the inconvenience, he might reconsider. “Oh, I see. You're still scared, are you not? Very well, I can keep you company tonight.”

If you dropped in here out of the blue and want to read more from me, you can find it in my pinned post: INDEX

[tommycorriander]

Hazbin Hotel, Helluva Boss, And Disability

I am disabled. This is something I've talked about a handful of times on this blog and on my Twitter, and anyone who knows me knows I am a disabled man. As a result, while I do enjoy dissecting media and politics, the need to be an advocate for disability issues would have fallen on me to some extent regardless. Disabled folks are often left out of conversations regarding diversity in media, in a continued oversight from able bodied peers.

What does this have to do with the Hellaverse?

Both shows contain at least some small amount of disability representation; specifically, they both have characters that are physically disabled. In Hazbin Hotel this is Vaggie, as she is missing an eye and prior to the finale had lost her wings. In Helluva Boss, the characters would be Fizzarolli, a quad amputee, and the unnamed deaf child in the special. The only character I ever see talked about in regards to their disability by the wider fanbase is the unnamed child, and on a smaller scale in critical spaces I occasionally see remarks on Fizzarolli's disability.

This is a problem.

For as much as fans of one or both shows would love to claim diversity in their shows, the lack of disability representation and the lackluster portrayal of the minimal representation is poor. And I haven't seen any of my fellow critics discuss this, which I feel is an oversight, though I don't fault them for this as there are many problems with both shows and they tend to have their hands full. However, this angle of viewing the shows has been overlooked, which is why I wish to discuss it today.

Firstly, I'd like to specify what I mean when I discuss disability. While the conversation regarding the Hellaverse is primarily centered around physical disability as this is the only form of disability portrayed in the shows, coded or otherwise, disability comes in many different forms. Intellectual disabilities and mental disabilities are just as important for representation in the media as physical disabilities. Among physical disabilities, there's also a difference in visible and invisible disabilities, the latter of which is hardly ever shown in media compared to the former. Ideally all forms of disability would be portrayed equally and with respect, but unfortunately this isn't the case. I also don't expect every show to tackle every demographic at once; this isn't a reasonable request, and to be very clear, my issue with the representation in HH/HB does not come from every single unique experience with disability not being covered, but rather with the narrative the creatives behind the show and the show's fans continue to push: that both shows are diverse and are, in some way, more progressive than other shows.

This isn't the case for many reasons. Fellow critics have gone into depth about the show's lack of representation of women in nuanced roles, the lack of queer women, the racist ways in which the very few characters of colour are presented, the lack of trans representation, and even the way sex and sexuality is presented being rather conservative at times. That isn't the focus of this essay, but I would implore anyone who is reading this who is somehow unaware of the previous issues to seek out essays that talk about those points; Cassidy Whiskey on YouTube has a three-part series that covers a multitude of topics, not just issues of representation, and I would have recommended helluvareceipts on Twitter, but her account has sadly been deactivated. I'm sure there are others, but I'll lose focus if I try to name every single person to go to. If you're willing to trawl through general pettiness in the critical tag (which, let's be real, that is probably how you found this post) you'll find well-worded critiques as well.

Back to the topic at hand. The lack of representation of people with disabilities is already frustrating, but there isn't a complete drought: Vaggie, Fizzarolli, and the unnamed imp child do exist, after all. However, their representation is not just flawed, but even exploitative in some ways.

First we have Vaggie. Aside from the visual of her missing eye and seeing the incident in which she lost that eye, nothing comes of it. She never has to contend with the difficulties that come with impaired sight, and it's never brought up by other characters. In the training scene between her and Carmilla, it's not a factor: instead, her greater flaw in the physical realm when it comes to combat is having longer hair. This is an extreme oversight, which I believe shows that Vivienne and the various writers for the show never actually take into consideration what should be a major element of a character, that being her impaired vision. Furthermore, the loss of her wings isn't even considered at all, with her somehow gaining them back at the end of her training montage with Carmilla. This could have been an excellent vector to discuss physical disability in a coded form, with her wings being a stand in for more traditional forms of limb loss. Still not ideal, as I believe it's better to have forthright depictions of disability over metaphors, but it would have been something. Instead, it's never a factor, and worse, it's effectively cured. As far as representation goes, Vaggie might as well not even count.

That's all that exists for Hazbin Hotel. In Helluva Boss, we have two characters, and I will save the unnamed child for last, because that is where the real issue with the representation is on full display.

So, Fizzarolli. He is a quad amputee and potentially hearing impaired, though the latter is speculated on due to a single scene which I discuss later. Since that scene is the only time it ever comes up, I will focus on his amputee status. He lost his limbs in a fire, something we see on screen. I will disagree with some of my fellow critics in that this scene should have been more detailed; I feel that had the scene shown more of the damage dealt to Fizz's body it would have come across in poor taste, and focusing on the tragic aspect of disability usually ends up feeling like trauma porn in the hands of poor writers, which Vivienne most certainly is. I do not trust her to handle a more detailed scene with grace, especially given her track record (more on that later). It is ultimately for the best that the scene is mostly brushed over, even if it would have been better in the hands of someone with the maturity and sensitivity to cover such a topic for more to be shown in regards to his injuries.

Otherwise, Fizzarolli is mostly fine. He's shown not just surviving but thriving, he has a loving partner (criticisms of the portrayal of said relationship not withstanding) and generally sees success in his life while still having to grapple with the realities of his disability when it comes to his prosthetics being prone to damage and potentially shutting down. I would, in the hands of anyone else, like to see more of this character and what his daily routine looks like as a disabled man.

Unfortunately all the good will built with Fizz comes crashing down when we get to the unnamed imp child in the Fizzarolli special episode. This child is the poster child for virtue signalling. Frankly, it's disgusting how a majority of the fandom seemed to ignore how fetishistic this portrayal was. This is where the real meat of the essay comes in to play.

This unnamed child is given a single scene, and is then promptly forgotten about and never mentioned again. They are introduced as being a fan of Fizz here to view the competition, there is a brief exchange between the two, and then we all move on. And yet this scene was championed as somehow revolutionary or a sign of the top-tier diversity and progressiveness in Helluva, when in reality this type of scene has been done to death. This is tokenism.

One major stumbling block many of the people championing this scene seem to get tripped up on is a very simple question: why was this child a child to begin with? Really, this seems like a simple question, it shouldn't have much thought. Sometimes characters are kids. But within the episode it's clearly shown through multiple different avenues that this is an adult show. The performances are dripping with sexuality, several of the fans of Fizzarolli are there because Mammon sells sex robots of the guy, there is no mistaking that this is something no child should be at, let alone by themselves.

So why was this child a child? Simple: brownie points.

It's a lot more difficult for people to share clips of a wholesome moment from your show if the person Fizz was interacting with was an adult. People are ableist, this is pretty par for the course; as a disabled person I find it generally safer to assume people are ableist before proven otherwise. I can guarantee if this scene were to be between Fizzarolli and a deaf adult fan as opposed to a young child, it would not have been championed as this amazing representation by mostly able bodied fans. And that is by design: if Vivienne genuinely cared about representation, if she truly wanted to show something meaningful to her adult fans in her adult show, she would have had the interaction be with an adult. But that doesn't get her clip shared around on social media. That doesn't get her brownie points for inclusion. It's safe, it's palatable, it's sickeningly wholesome, and it's insulting for that. This is a show for adults, something Vivienne and company is adamant on, and yet they treat their audience like children. As a fan, you should be insulted to have this key-jingling one minute clip presented to you. You should demand more, demand better.

Unfortunately I do not see ever getting better from Vivienne. She has made it very clear she truly does not care about creating art, she really only stumbled into being championed as a paragon for animation because her majority white and able bodied fans saw the inclusion of primarily gay men and thought that was good enough. She does not give a damn about disabled people, and she never will. To expect good disabled representation from her is like expecting good queer representation from a Marvel movie; she is in it for the money, and it just so happens that the inclusion of that scene makes money.

Addendum thoughts that were too long to put into the tags: I would like to make it clear that disability, because it presents very differently, is experienced very differently by many different people. If you felt seen or represented by the disability representation in either show, that's fine, and I don't want you to feel bad for feeling seen. Ultimately disabled people are largely given scraps; I have not once seen someone with my particular physical disability portrayed in media. Sometimes we latch onto things that are subpar or lacking; my criticism of reception to this scene is targeted primarily at able bodied audience members who may be lacking in this perspective and to also champion fellow disabled people to rightfully demand and expect better. Thank you for your time.

[scoobydoodean]

I have 2 spn accounts, a Deancentric blog that ships Destiel and another account that unintentionally follows a lot of Samgirl blogs. So one blog follows majority Deangirl blogs and the other incidentally follows a lot of Samgirl blogs. And here's the major difference I've noticed on the different dashboards.

Deangirl dashboard: Great meta analysis. Beautiful art. Level 1 and 2 headcanons (largely based in canon). Pro-Dean. Stumble across reblogs of Deancrit. Bitter Deangirl blogging. Generally fair portrayal and discussion of the positive and negative traits and actions of Dean, Sam and Cas. Deanhater anons.

Samgirl dashboard: An entirely different pool of beautiful art. Whole lotta woobie!Sam art where Dean is his abuser. Deancrit about Dean being an abuser. Bitter Samgirl blogging about how people will find any excuse to hate Sam. "How can anyone be Samcrit he has done nothing wrong ever." Level 5 headcanons (you literally ignored canon to make that up). More about how Dean is Sam's abuser. So many posts about how awful Samcrit is. "Do Deangirls really think that Dean cries himself to sleep at night thinking that ppl thinks he doesn't know how to read." I have yet to see any actual Samcrit posts (not even links or reblogs from Sam defenders), not even after literally searching the Samcrit tag for it. The Samcrit tag is full of Samgirls crying about Samcrit and no actual Samcrit. "Samgirls are feral, but we need to be bc of the hate ppl throw Sam's way."

I literally have to block so many people on the incidentally Samgirl dashboard bc I'm not on Tumblr to randomly stumble across a post on how Dean is a toxic stalker who abused Sam by changing Amelia's number in his cellphone. Do you have any idea on why Samgirls seem to feel so attacked all the time even though I literally only ever see *them* attacking Dean?

If you dig deep enough into any fandom, you will encounter people who fetishize "helpless victimhood". Some fandoms attract more people with those particular proclivities than others. Supernatural and Sam in particular attracts people who hold those sorts of aesthetic interests because of his relationship toward accountability versus Dean's.

Dean is a character with an overactive sense of responsibility. He blames himself for the Lindbergh baby and unemployment and every child murdered by a shrtiga from 1990 to 2005 because he went to play an arcade game when he was 10. He also blames himself for things like Jessica dying and Sam not being in school. Other characters pile on this blame frequently. John blames Dean for Sam getting hurt (1.18). Ruby tells him (and Sam) that Sam is a weak baby who won't psychologically survive without Dean there to protect him (3.11). Meg alleges that Dean is "dragging Sam everywhere" (1.16). Sam rewrites reality from 1.05 to 1.21 to make Dean responsible for his burning desire for revenge. Cas and Zachariah and Gabriel blame Dean when Sam breaks the last seal because he didn't stop Sam in time. Sam blames Dean for him drinking demon blood first because Dean wasn't there to protect him and then—in a complete 180—because Dean is smothering (4.04, 5.05). Dean generally absorbs blame when it is piled at his feet because he has been blamed for things he couldn't control for most of his life and thus he feels guilty and responsible for things even when him being responsible makes no logical sense. He's never a victim of anything—everything is always on him.

Sam, on the other hand, tends to eventually deflect blame because he can't handle the gnawing bite of it for long. It reminds him too deeply of being left isolated and alone as a child and the feelings of otherness and wrongness he developed through that neglect. When his actions ultimately have consequences he didn't foresee and/or that he finds undesirable, it makes him feel ugly and unaccepted and he can't face it so he eventually finds a way to make what happened someone else's fault—usually Dean's fault. Nothing is ever on him. He's always at least a little bit of a victim and Dean always carries at least partial responsibility for his decisions (1.21, 1.08, 4.04, 5.05, 8.23, 11.01)

In other words, Sam has an under-active sense of responsibility and Dean has an overactive responsibility and that dynamic—driven by their childhood experiences—places them into a vicious cycle of blame being cast onto Dean for Sam's decisions and Dean absorbing it. Dean absorbing it reinforcing the narrative for samgirls with a victimhood fetish that Dean deserves blame and that Sam truly is a helpless baby. They never watch what actually happens on the show to see whether this narrative that Dean is responsible for everything and Sam is a helpless baby lines up with the actual events that occurred onscreen because why would they? That would ruin their enjoyment. Sam isn't interesting to them outside of his capacity to be mourned as some sort of helpless martyr. And yes—they will cry and moan about how horrible and unfair Sam's suffering is, but it isn't because they're having a bad time. They're having a great time. They love thinking about Sam that way. They wouldn't be here blogging about it day in and day out for the last 20 years if they didn't actually want to see exactly what they're seeing.

Related tags of note:

#sams motivations

#taurus sam in the flesh

#In which Sam is not a helpless little waif with his hands cast over his eyes being carried along by the tides of the immutable sea

#sam the hunter

#sams follower/leader false dichotomy

#parentification

[o-sachi]

Dress to Impress Headcanons Pt. 1 - for WinBre Week!

ᯓ what's it like to play the roblox game dress to impress with the Wind Breaker characters? ᯓ characters; sakura haruka, suo hayato, nirei akihiko, sugishita kyotaro, umemiya hajime, hiragi toma (more characs in the next part hopefully) ᯓ tags; crack, some profanity lol, gn reader, no y/n, can be platonic/romantic

[🐟]: for day 8 - side missions prompt! (because dti is a side mission) @windbreakerweek

Sakura Haruka

"How the fuck do I win..."

It will take forever to convince him to play because apparently 'there is no way he's playing dress-up that's made for children' but will fold as soon as you tell him he's just saying that because he hates you.

He keeps forgetting where certain items are and keeps going in circles around the place. That's why he thinks 5 minutes isn't enough.

"Where the fuck are the heels with the pretty pink bows? Man." / "You're going in circles, y'know?" / "Not my fault this shit's a maze."

Pretty standard outfits. Like they're not terrible, but they're not impressive enough to get 4 or 5 stars.

He's more of a simplicity-is-beauty type of guy so that also reflects in the kind of outfits that he makes. But the kids in the server are not having it.

"What does 'ate and served' mean?"

SO SALTY WHEN HE LOSES. But he'll brush it off and pretend that he's cool about it because he is not about to let anyone know he cares about some stupid dress-up game.

Suo Hayato

"Oh, look. I got first place again~"

He was easier to convince. But only if you knew how good he'd be, you wouldn't have asked him to play with you. Why? 'Cuz your morale is plummeting by the second.

He doesn't even need to try. Suo just lets his natural sense of style bleed into the way he plays the game AND HE WINS. He's pretty and so are his outfits.

Suo knows that it's mostly kids playing the game. So when he figures out there are younger people on the server, he'll rate them pretty high to put a smile on their face. (HE'S SO SWEET).

"Suo... it didn't even follow the theme." / "But it's quite nice, don't you think?"

You notice that you rank faster when you duo with him. You've been exploiting this little feature.

"We make a pretty good team, don't we?" / "Huh? Oh, yeah. Haha totally..."

Nirei Akihiko

"OH, this one's good... No, but this one's really good too..."

Nirei is everyone's hypeman: yours, the fashion mavens', the ten year olds who can't follow the theme—literally everyone.

He actually gets better so quickly by observing the outfits of those who win a lot. Like dude is analyzing a whole ass Roblox game. Not that it's intentional—more like it's in his nature.

He falls deep into the DTI rabbit hole. You know because he eagerly waits for updates and hunts for codes on the internet.

"Heyyyy, guess who learned a new code hm?"

His face lights up when you ask him to play... as if he doesn't ask you to play every chance he gets already...

DTI actually becomes his door leading to his descent into the world of Roblox. Seriously, he starts playing more Roblox because you started him with DTI. He also starts asking the other Furin guys to play too.

"Guys, let's do an obby next." / "A what?" / "An obby." / "Again, A WHAT?"

Sugishita Kyotaro

"... I swear I can do better than this..."

This man... this man was even harder to convince compared to Sakura. In fact, you almost gave up. Soooo... you convinced Ume instead (which was easier) and in turn, that forced Sugishita to try it out.

Didn't even ask how it works. He's just reading the text that pops up and goes with the flow.

I'm sorry but... he has the blandest style out of everyone in the main Furin group. Like, he doesn't even try to win AT ALL. But, y'know, A for effort!

"Oh... I have to vote for them?" / "Well, yeah... actually no, just give me 5 stars, okay?"

He plays DTI for a grand total of 3 times, all of which were because Ume asked him to play with the rest of the guys.

He's not much of a gamer to begin with... really, he'd much rather watch you play DTI and see your dramatic reactions to whatever's happening.

Umemiya Hajime

"HAHAHA What's with these silly poses?"

It's like a switch flips in him when he boots up the game and the DTI background song starts playing. He looks waaaaay too happy playing it.

He only started playing because all the hype surrounding it. Ume just wants to be part of the conversation and that's why he tried it out.

Talks way too much in the chat. Usually people just use it to provide more context for their outfits, but Ume actually makes conversation with players there. It's pretty funny to see.

"Look. So many people added me." / "Huh... well ain't that a surprise..."

He almost threw the Ipad out of excitement when he saw that the theme was gardening. He said he had to win or he'd literally die.

A pose 28 spammer, obviously.

"Aw, my game started lagging." / "It's 'cuz you keep spamming poses too fast." / "Dang it."

Hiragi Toma

"I'm not that good at it... okay, maybe just a bit."

He's an old man so bear with him when he tells you that he doesn't even know what a 'Roblox' is. He thought it was a vape flavor by the way.

"So... I have to dress-up and make people vote highly for me?" / "Yeah, it's called Dress to Impress for a reason." / "Oh, yeah. Fair."

He barely tries, but somehow he's kinda good at it? He's not insanely amazing at putting together outfits... but for a guy who's not trying that hard—he's doing pretty well for himself.

But he'll be too embarrassed to admit it. Hiragi would click his tongue and tell you to knock it off once you start complimenting his DTI skills.

He's a bit lost with the Gen Z/Gen Alpha terms, but he's trying to learn—slowly but surely like a little baby lamb learning how to walk.

Will rate you 5 stars no matter what. Everyone else is getting 1 star. Hiragi doesn't care.

"I didn't know you could hit poses here?" / "Yeah, look at this one." / "What the fuck kinda pose is that? Who's doing that on the runway? Bffr." / "Did you just—" / "Told you I'm learning things."

o-sachi © 2024 pls do not translate/copy/reupload my work on other platforms.

[somniumfaults]

“If that time comes, I'll kill you. I promise… I'll kill you. I love you. I'm the one who’ll make your wishes come true. It has to be me.”

a warmup that I got really inspired for! I saw this quote on twitter and was immediately reminded of this fanart of Rui! I've been obsessed with this art since it was posted, and I couldn't not take the opportunity to write smth based on it!

pairing: rui mizuki/reader

rating: teen

prompt: “If that time comes, I'll kill you. I promise… I'll kill you. I love you. I'm the one who’ll make your wishes come true. It has to be me.”

tags: implied major character death

As a curse-bearer, Rui should understand your plight more than anyone else in Darkwick did. The anger, the resignation, the fear and alienation of your own body. The clawing desperation and willingness to do anything—everything—necessary to try and get back some sense of control and a semblance of how things used to be. Becoming something other than human… it was too much for one person to take, no matter what Ed waved his hand dismissively at.

The ghouls didn’t understand, because how could they? Empathy could only go so far when the foundation of one’s experiences differed fundamentally. Their transformation, for better or worse, had been a product of their own wishes, regardless of how individual ghouls felt regarding the matter. How could you or Rui relate to that in the slightest? Who had offered the two of you a choice in becoming Other?

As it was, even he could only understand you to a point. At least he had the option to live. At least he could pick himself back up one piece at a time and learn how to pretend everything was fine. At least, at least, at least… At least he could offer you reprieve.

He couldn’t understand what it was like for you, so how could he fault you for curling in on yourself and breaking down in front of him, sobbing at the unfairness of it all? It was unfair. You didn’t deserve to simmer in the anxiety of knowing each passing day was another closer to becoming something that was no longer you. You didn’t deserve to live in fear, knowing that all the bonds you were making at Darkwick would end in mutual violence when that timer ran out. Unlike him, you were something pure. You deserved to stay that way.

Was it really so unreasonable for you to confess that you didn’t want to deal with your burden anymore? 

… If there was anything about being cursed that he understood, it was that.

It was why, despite the acid that crept up his throat and threatened to leave his voice hoarse, he made a promise to you—a promise so soft that you almost missed it.

“When the day comes,” he said with a vulnerability you had never heard of him before, as if bearing his soul to you, “that you feel you really can’t take this anymore… you can rely on me. I’ll give you a hug to make everything better, okay? You won’t have to worry anymore. You’ll be loved.”

He smiled mournfully.

“Until death do we part, right?”

[babyjakes]

baby barnes | 1. homecoming.

〈 disclaimer: this blog posts content not suitable for individuals under the age of 18. minors are strictly prohibited from viewing, sharing, or interacting with this blog. for more information on this blog's commitment to protecting minors, read our full statement here. 〉

summary | upon returning from a small solo mission, natasha has something to give to steve.

characters | steve rogers, natasha romanoff, bucky barnes, other assorted avengers, 'baby barnes' (original character)

warnings | all warnings from the original headcanon probably apply (slightly above canon level violence, child abuse, major character death.) very angsty, steve cries a lot.

word count | 1,440

an | based on my baby barnes headcanon, with some slight changes to the universe and storyline. in this version of events, after bucky is killed, nat goes on a solo rage mission to kill everyone at the hydra facility and bring baby barnes home to steve 🩷

"Sorry. This place is a mess."

As hard as he tried, Steve just couldn't pick his gaze up off of the floor as Natasha stood there in the doorway to his living quarters. "It's okay. Things have been hard, I know." The redhead's voice seemed as though it was trying to float through a thick screen of smoke, or maybe Steve was just underwater. Maybe he had been drowning for weeks.

It was quiet as the woman entered, slipping her shoes off on the mat near the door. Steve could feel her careful eyes taking him in, assessing the damage. Every word he pulled from his throat felt like a fishing line digging right back into his burning flesh as he questioned quietly, "Would you like some tea?"

He didn't have to lift his gaze to tell that she had shaken her head. The pair moved further into the room in silent tandem, Steve leading the way over to the long beige couch. The blonde's focus was fleeting as his eyes fell on his friend's lap, before shifting over to the old photo albums on the coffee table, then to the front door, then back to his own folded hands. Natasha cleared her throat, and Steve almost found it amusing, the way she was preparing to speak like she could possibly find anything to say in that moment that would somehow make things better.

"The mission was successful," was what she finally stated, the underwhelming words drawing a knowing look onto the supersoldier's face.

He nodded, doing his best to keep things polite. It wasn't Natasha's fault that he had fallen so out of love with the world; he knew that. "I'm glad," Steve hummed, thinking back to the telephone brief he had received about the agent's assignment before it had been launched. "She's just going in to clear out a suspected outpost. Nothing major," Stark had told him. The captain didn't like sending anyone off on solo missions, but he wasn't in any state to tag along, and thankfully it didn't seem like he was needed.

Through the heavy air, Natasha took another breath before finally speaking again. "I have something to show you." Her hand slipped quietly into her pocket before appearing again, holding a small photograph by its corner. When she handed it to Steve, the man couldn't help but begin to weep.

For a moment, all he could see was the girl's tender face. The face that had haunted his dreams for the past several months, ever since that first 'baby barnes' tape had arrived in the mail. In the photo, which he held tight with both of his shaking hands, the infant's big brown eyes were looking up at something. Her cheeks were round and soft, rosy as ever. Steve couldn't help but wonder when the picture had been taken, how close it was to capturing the baby's last moments on earth before she was put to rest like her father.

Finally shifting his attention away from her angelic face, the blonde trembled as he started scanning the rest of the photo for any clues. Brow furrowing in confusion, he was immediately puzzled by the plush blanket that sat in a messy pile surrounding the baby's little bottom and legs. "What's this?" he paused quietly as he thought back through all the tapes that were permanently engraved in his memory, like an endless reel of vivid film looping across the walls of his troubled mind. Not a single one had shown the infant with any sort of blanket or covering; that would go directly against the purpose of the project. She was deprived of any warmth, human or inanimate, as a simple yet effective form of torture. The blanket in the photo simply didn't belong. Steve was absolutely sure of it.

The next indicator that something was off was the state of the baby herself. She was unusually clean, her ivory skin appearing fresh and well-kept. Her medium brown whisps of hair laid neatly over her small head, lacking the usual knots and mats that he had grown used to seeing. Swallowing hard, Steve was struggling to understand why she looked so different, almost as if someone had been caring for her for the first time in her short life.

Desperate for any sort of explanation, the captain kept studying the photo, trying to make sense of each little detail he could make out. The background itself was insignificant, just a simple wall of dark metal paneling that didn't give any insight as to where or when the picture was taken. But then, in the very corner of the photo, Steve was finally given his answer. The edge of a jacket sleeve was just barely visible against the floor, the navy fabric recognizable to him anywhere; it was Nat's, an old garment from the team's days with SHIELD. The man's breath hitched in his throat as he began to stammer.

"N-Natasha," his voice wavered. "Nat. Where... how... wh-when was this-?" Steve continued staring at the small photo, more tears building in his eyes as he choked back something between a whimper and a sob. "Wh-when did you... w-was this, were you-?"

"This morning," the agent told the supersoldier softly, reaching out to place a steadied hand over one of his shaking ones. "Bruce and I got her all cleaned up and sorted out in the med bay. She wasn't a big fan of the bath, but we got a little smile out of her when we blew bubbles with the soap." Natasha's gaze was tentative, not knowing how Steve would take the news. But as she sat there, watching the revelations sink in for her friend, she couldn't help but let slip what she had been wanting to tell him since the moment she laid eyes on the infant while breaching the lonely Siberian outpost. "After what they did to Bucky, I knew what I had to do," she said quietly. "I had to save her for you, Steve. You would've done the same for me."

All at once, Steve could feel nearly a month of tension and agony lifting from his bones as he took what seemed like his first breath since witnessing Bucky's last through a screen. If he hadn't been seated, he would've fallen to his knees right there, maybe before God or maybe before his dear friend, the one who he now understood had brought the baby back safely after an undoubtedly perilous mission. The baby, the baby, the baby... that was all the captain's mind could hold onto as he sat there, clutching her photo as if both of their lives depended on it. She was alive, she was safe. And she had been brought home to him.

"Natasha," Steve choked out the young woman's name through tears, his voice like warm hands cradling their years of partner and friendship. There was something so unspeakably profound about the endless ways they were willing to live and die for each other; neither of the two could put it into words, but the feeling was certainly present all around as they sat there in the man's small living room, holding onto each other in a moment of shared silence. The gravity of Nat's actions was quick to settle in, and the significance of what she had done- all on her own, without being asked- was nearly unbearable to Steve. "Y-you went... all on your own? You could've-"

"I had to, Steve," Nat cut him off gently, her certainty on the matter unmistakable as it flashed across her face. "You were in no condition to fight, and the others would've only been in the way." As much as he didn't like what he was being told, Steve knew it was the truth. Things had gotten bad for Nat after Bucky's final tape; her decline was much more subtle than that of the captive's best friend, though he was still quick to notice it. It was only his nature. Now Steve understood that when she went dark like that, little could come between the agent and what she set out to do. As much as it worried him sick, that worry couldn't quite outdo the larger sense of relief that was flowing through him like water.

Steve's gaze drifted back to the tiny girl sat posing in the photo, another wave of grief washing over him as he saw a shadow of his late friend gazing back at him through those familiar brown eyes. Giving his hand a gentle squeeze, Natasha finally made the proposition, "Whenever you're ready, I'll take you to see her."

[becausebuckley]

michelle's buddie fic recs: week 37!

another week, another list of brilliant brilliant fics <3 i hope you find some new favourites here!!

this is a mix of fics with all ratings and some include NSFW content. please take a look at both the ratings and the fic tags before reading!

if you come across something you like in this list, remember to show some love to the author by leaving kudos and a comment!

descendants of cyrano | letmetellyouaboutmyfeels/@letmetellyouaboutmyfeels | 55.3k | E

People have their characters romance each other all the time while playing Dungeons & Dragons. There's deep meaningful monologues and sometimes some crying. It's normal. "Normal" is definitely not the word for whatever Buck and Eddie are inflicting on the rest of the 118. i reread this for maybe the third time this week? idk the point is i've read it multiple times and it continues to be one of my favourite fics <3 the d&d bits are brilliant and i love buddie and the 118 friendships and everything!!

dreamverse | clairo_shade | 3.4k | T

If anyone asks—it’s Karen’s fault. That’s what Eddie is going to make sure is written on his gravestone when this colossal lapse in judgment ends with him burying himself six feet under. this is technically a double rec cause the sequel is also great!! fluff and humour is one of my favourite tags and this captures both perfectly <3

family (portrait) | ProsperDemeter/@prosperdemeter2 | 45.1k | T

realizing that the family that you need has been beside you all along. i love the family dynamics here, both the complex buckley family ones and the maddie & buck & jee & chim & eddie stuff. brilliant fic!

i'm hearing secret harmonies | Chash | 18k | T

When the firefighter walks into Eddie's coffeeshop, Eddie immediately knows two things about him: he's not human, and he's the love of Eddie's life. i love witch eddie so much!! the diaz family here is so lovely as well <3

life like a face between your palms | hattalove/ @hattalove | 9.6k | M

in which eddie is sweet, and buck is a little undone by it. sweet eddie my absolute most beloved <3 the tooth-rotting fluff tag has never been more accurate!

a place in the clouds | lesbianrobin/@lesbianrobin | 5.1k | G

the Diaz family make their way home. the ultimate eddie and chris moving to la roadtrip fic <3 i love their dynamic here so much!!

to hold you up | selfmythology| 4.6k| T

Five times Evan “Buck” Buckley cared for someone, and one time someone cared for him. i love the different friendships highlighted here and the buddie scene is so lovely!!

whatever you knead i'm just a massage away | znks/@znks | 3k | E

if your best friend doesn't reveal his secret physical therapist skills to help you out then what's the point what's the point indeed?? there's something so special and intimate about massage fics and this hits the spot perfectly <3

[headcanonenthusiast]

Kyle Garrick NSFW headcanons

This was so difficult to write for some reason and idk why 😭😭 I think I just had a lot of trouble writing for Gaz, because as much as I like him as a character, I'm not much of a Gaz girl. (Or, I wasn't before writing this. I think I changed my own mind with these headcanons 🤭)

(I completely understand that this type of content is not everyone's cup of tea, and that's ok! But, please scroll and ignore if this type of content isn't your thing as opposed to leaving any sort of negative comments.)

Enjoy!

Nsfw under the cut.

-His biggest mission during sex is to make you scream.

-If you haven't screamed his name so loudly that it gets you a volume warning on a smart watch, he isn't done.

-Will beg you to be even louder if he isn't satisfied with your volume.

-"C'mon, louder. Louder, baby, you can be louder than that."

-Lowkey doesn't mind fucking you near an open window. Def leans down to whisper in your ear to encourage you to be louder.

-"Don't go covering your mouth now, love. Let the neighbors hear how good I'm making you feel."

-3 inches soft, 5 inches hard.

-Calls you pretty girl/boy all the time.

-Especially if you're wearing something of his, whether it be a shirt or necklace or his dog tags.

-Honestly, whenever he sees you in his clothing, especially his dog tags, he goes crazy.

-"Look at you, pretty boy/girl. Keeping my shirt nice and warm for me."

-OBSESSED with taking you while you're on your stomach.

-He'll lean down to kiss your shoulders and back, fingers switching between your hip to your side.

-Isn't opposed to you being on top, as long as you're both enjoying yourselves.

-Like I said, he loves taking you from behind. As such, he sees any sort of marks or dots that you normally don't even see. And he'll run his fingers along any birthmarks/scars with his face buried in the crook of your neck.

-Feel like he'd like recording/taking pictures of it, too. (With consent ofc)

-And he definitely won't share those photos with anyone. They are only for his eyes and your own.

-"God, baby. I ruined you last night. Look at how messy your hair got."

-I feel like he sends the most gorgeous nudes.

-He basically poses for you like a model in front of the mirror. Mf knows he's hot.

-I feel like the main way he asks for sex is sending you a nude or spicy message. Normally doesn't ask for it outright, kinda let's it go over text or come into the night randomly.

-He sees eating you out/sucking you off as a great way to calm you down.

-If somethings got you upset, he'll get a small frown on his face and look more concerned. You don't have to tell him anything if you don't want to, though. Just let him gently eat your pussy/suck your dick and I can guarantee that you'll forget about whatever was upsetting you.

-If you feel more overstimulated or just have the tendency to cry from the sensations of sex, he's stopping and pulling out with a hand on your shoulder.

-"Oh shit, did I hurt you? I'm sorry, babe."

-And even if he didn't hurt you at all, it just felt super good, he never pressures you into continuing. If you want to keep going, he'll return to a similar pace but with more awareness of your facial expressions and noises.

-I feel like he'd want to try cockwarming you, but he's honestly so bad at keeping still. It's not his fault you feel too good to not move inside of.

-"Come on, baby. You feel so good, you're so fucking tight. It'd be sinful of me not to move."

-Please put your hands on his shoulders if you're on your back. Nothing will get him harder than you touching his shoulders.

-And if you cry out his name? His confidence shoots through the roof and he nearly cums right then and there.

-Prefers cumming on your stomach, back or thighs so he can take pictures afterwards.

-Aftercare includes him handing you some water before grabbing two game controllers, asking if you'd like to play a game before bed. And if you agree, y'all's moans won't be the only thing the neighbors complain about. Your laughter will probably be as loud as the moans, too.

-And maybe whoever loses the game has to bottom for the next round, idk 🤭

My hands hurt from typing so much 😭 but thanks to everyone who voted! It was challenging to write for Gaz, bc like I said, until an hour ago when I started writing this I wasn't super attracted to him, but I need to learn to write for characters I don't often think about more. Hope y'all enjoyed! Alejandro is up next 😏

[thecoolerliauditore]

Sorry, not-so-amicable-exes anon here again just cause I saw your big toxic fh breakdown post again cause a friend wanted to read it and we were tlking about it- unimportant, sorry, we just had a thought. Because I've seen some anti-toxic shippers act like this interpretation is out of spite or some intentional thing shippers of other jimmy ships made up (specifically ranchers usually), but the timeline and accusation is all wrong. Like I don't remember ever seeing anyone even talk about this interpretation until post-liml? And it was very hesitantly and apologetically. There was a fic or two before this but most people even the people who enjoyed it expressed discomfort or concern at its existence and that's how most people react to them even to this day.

But I remember when I saw that first post I was like, "Oh thank god, someone else also thought that!" It felt like before that there was scenes in their POV that only happened when I watched 3l because no one talked about them, or wrote them very differently to what happened. And I saw some other people saying the same thing. I think the post even got deleted a few days later, too. It seemed to me like a lot of people had quietly independantly come up with the interpretation as far back as 3l itself, but stayed quiet until recently to avoid upsetting anyone or we all thought we were the only ones who saw it that way. I know I tend to hesitate to write characters negatively because it feels a bit wrong to do that when the ccs are friends, even if I think it would be interesting. I wonder how many people feel that way also?

But I guess what I mean to say is it seems to me that a lot of people independantly have been thinking it since 3l or ll and the only reason it started popping up in dl is because it was the next big Jimmy ship from the big shipping season, and people werent really willing to even talk about it for a whole other season because they were scared of being seen as negative.

But!! I just really think it's neat, I really like this narrative for Scott and Jimmy. It's rare to be able to get stories where people have problems and break up and move on to new relationships and grow from them. It makes sense because they're the first season couple and they've grown further and further apart as seasons go on.

Even people I see who don't like fh don't seem to WANT to talk about it, they only bring it up when asked, and try to be respectful. Maybe I've not seen something happening somewhere else? I just wish I didn't have to spend most of my energy when writing quadruple checking that I'm not making Scott a bad guy and emphasising Jimmy's faults just so people reading know for certain I'm writing it this way because I'm legitimately interested in exploring this interpretation of them, and I'm not one of "those" writers. But I'm starting to wonder how many of "those" writers there actually are. (At the risk of comparing petty fandom drama to a serious topic, but it feels a lot like I'm back on 2016 tumblr assuring people I'm not one of "those" enbies or "those" aces, trying not to get pushed out.)

I'm guessing anyone who doesn't care for toxic fh probably already has you blocked, but if there is anyone like that who does see this: Hi! I also love flower husbands a lot! They just aren't my fluffy comfort ship, I like headcanoning them as divorced and imperfect because I think it makes them more interesting to write. I love being able to write characters who don't find the love of their life immediately but each relationship still shapes them into a new person. Sometimes I like to imagine their relationship as more mild and silly, and sometimes more dramatic and intense, I'm not a one-headcanon person! But their divorce is what really inspired me about them so I like writing about it. I don't want to stop anyone from enjoying them how they enjoy them and have no interest in making people who would be upset by my content to read it, so I try to tag it correctly! I'd like to be able to write my stories without walking on eggshells wondering if someone thinks I only wrote something I worked really hard on and cared a lot about just to spite them or because I'm secretly homophobic while writing about men kissing, just because my interpretation is different. It makes me scared to put Scott in my fics at all and contributed to my writers block for fics with them in it. I think Scott gets treated unfairly by certain people too, but that's not what I'm trying to do, I wouldn't write about him if I did!

(Also sorry if my paragraphs are strange, I'm not used to writing on mobile or pouring my thoughts out.)

Hi hello welcome back!! Please don't apologize I love long asks, especially long asks about scott smahor. The fact that you pulled up that toxic fh post and read it with a friend is so funny to me. Looking back, I wish I'd planned it out better and wrote it more eloquently, but I'm glad it brings people some sense of joy/entertainment/understanding. I hope you and your friend enjoyed it, even in an ironic sense.

It's endlessly entertaining (and fascinating) to me personally how every toxic fh believer seems to undergo the same-ish pipeline of watching the fh pov and being horrified --> looking at fanon fh and disengaging out of fear --> finding other toxic fh posters in the wild and suddenly realising you're not insane after all. I know I personally went into scott's pov expecting wholesomeness and ended up wide-eyed at what I saw before proceeding to slink FH into the back of my mind for awhile.

People tend to believe others operate like they do and I think that's where a lot of the discourse originates. Most of the louder voices I've seen that are very against the toxic interpretation are from people who primarily engage in bending the characters to fit specific concepts i.e. the "toxic jimmy" brainstorm that happened awhile back on here where interpretation is less a study and more confirmation bias-ing your way into making an idea work. Which I must reiterate is completely awesome because we're making fanfics here not nukes. But this leads people to assume that everyone who writes about toxic fh is going in with the mindset of "how do i interpret these moments so that scott is an abuser" and not "wow that thing i just watched sure kind of felt like domestic abuse"

Which like. YEAH, if there was a theoretical group of people who went out of their way to interpret everything scott did ever as evil and irredeemable, I too would assume that they had it out for the guy. But that's not what's happening, usually, afaik (at least on here, twitter's situation is a bit different due to the culture and would be its own beast for me to dissect and I honestly don't spend enough time on there to really feel confident making any statement).

For the record, I think a lot of people are on the same boat regarding FH being toxic and just simply don't care enough to voice/explore it, don't want to deal with the fandom nonsense that comes with it or would simply rather shift focus onto other pairs with similar themes. i.e. there is something going on with the toxic fh believer/ethubs shipper overlap I just know there is if anyone would like to do science with me it'd be awesome.

I know that I definitely focused my sights more on Scott and Pearl's relationship following my "wow that was sure something" watchthrough of scott's series, which is ironic considering I now base alot of my thoughts about their dynamic on scott's previous relationship with jimmy.

I think there's like. Something about the DL Pearl fans and the ranchers fans specifically who tended to communicate in code re: Scott's toxicity because for a long time all of us were afraid of saying it outright. So you get a lot of posts where Scott is like. A vaguely unpleasant force in the narrative while not really being a main focus himself, which I think may have contributed to the "ranchers fans only view scott as the villainous ex to push their ship harder" argument that I've seen a lot.

Once I realised from that one Shepscapades comic that there were others who saw the same plot I did, I would go out fishing for signs of agreement/acknowledgement. Hybbat if you're reading this, take this as my apology for sending you anon asks back in the day essentially trying to bait you into posting more FH slander, there was something deeply wrong with me (there still is, I'm just more upfront about it now I think).

There's also just this very like.. us vs them mentality very apparent in the way people talk about The Discourse that kinda sucks. Weirdly enough it's kind of shifted from toxic fh vs healthy fh to fh vs ranchers (or any other jimmy ship for that matter) nowadays. I can't talk on 2016 tumblr but regarding your last point (which I know isn't directed towards me but I think it's worth saying) -- would it matter if you Were one of THOSE fh writers? (or one of THOSE aces or THOSE enbies for that matter). You're not but like. Would it?

(side note rhetorical question do not answer i dont want to know but wtf did the aces/enbies even do lmao)

Not to get too away from the discourse cus I do my fair share of glazing on this blog already, but yes yes yes big agree on fh's storyline being amazing!! I love that we essentially watch them both have to live on after their mutually life-changing marriage.

Scott especially I love because in a lot of stories that feature an abuser they're painted as entirely evil and oftentimes disappear from the story once the relationship is over, but Scott doesn't and will never go anywhere. He's forced to grapple with his previous actions and the destructive way he thinks about himself and relationships has and continues to damage both himself and the people he loves. Just like how irl even when we wish abusers would just "go away" they will still continue being living people as they've always been, not a concept that will simply perish once you overcome the trauma. I love abusive characters who are fully written as human and think they're important. Is all.

[the-letterbox-archives]

file (0)0-40-000: writer questionnaire

thank you @ominous-feychild, @paeliae-occasionally, and @the-golden-comet for tagging me! this is a writing questionnaire, and before i answer them i wanted to say that i love this game idea! as much as i love loredumping about characters and plots (as bad as i am at plots), i also really value talking about my process and general writing questions like this! alright, let's get on with the answers...

about me

when did you start writing?

i wrote my first novella in two weeks (it wasn't very good or edited, i'm not that good haha) during the 2020 lockdown, and have on that rhythm ever since, albeit on a much slower, yet bigger scale. in terms of writing overall, i've been doing it since i could read. i'm very excited to reach my fifth year of 'official' writing, with 3 books privately released and a fourth on the way!

are there genres/themes you enjoy reading different to the ones you write?

honestly, i don't read as much as i should. i read more as a kid, but i've kind of lost that spark due to poor mental health, busy schedules, and other reasons. but to zero down on the question, i don't hold myself to genres, because i prefer character focused stories, but i like speculative content the most, which is what i write. i don't really vibe with contemporary and slice-of-life stuff, through no fault of the genre, i'm just not that interested in it generally.

is there an author you want to emulate, or one to whom you're often compared?

i don't think my work has reached enough people to be compared to any author, at least nobody has told me i write like someone else. i've done emulation work in school before, but i don't like writing like that, it feels disingenuous with how stream-of-consciousness my writing is. so no, i don't want to emulate anyone.

can you tell me a little about your writing space?

writing anywhere but my house is incredibly stressful, i can't focus on creating stuff unless i'm at home, either in my bed, at my desk, or just in an armchair. nothing too special.

what's your most effective way to muster up some muse?

i wish i had a foolproof way to get my energy going. but since i don't have much obligation to write on a schedule, i'm allowed to write whenever inspiration hits. but it's easier to get in the writing headspace with some non-distracting music/videos.

did the place(s) you grew up in influence the people and places you write about?

for settings, not consciously. i don't like writing about real places, i usually use a fantasy world or an ambiguous place without relying on real-world settings for anything less than minor inspiration. in terms of my characters, most of them have parts of themselves taken from me or my past. the most active example of this is basically every character in insincere., all of whom are based of me, my dysregulated emotions, or certain social/societal issues. to sum it all up, my trauma makes for interesting casts.

are there any recurring themes of your writing, and if so, do they surprise you at all?

i try to put a lot of emphasis on character relationships, so i imagine a lot of themes there come up more than once without my active thought towards it. i often just write what feels right, so themes do recur across multiple stories, but i wouldn't be surprised if someone pointed out that some themes come up again, i wouldn't be surprised. i do want to put some emphasis on the theme of trauma and love of all stripes. on the love side, tales from a dying heart is the prime example of this, hell, the entire thing is about love. however, all my stories with genuine character relationships do focus on the concept of love. father-son with laszlo and yaromyr, one-sided platonic with daphne and faye, obsessive distant romance with sunny and darcy, mother-daughter with sasha and dulcinea, the list goes on. trauma is present through everything i write, i'm unable to write anything without it (insincere. i'm looking at you). and they'll all evolve and change, in different ways.

my characters

would you please tell me about your current favourite character?

i don't think i could pick just one, i have so much love in my heart for all of my characters. i adore ven's tired attitude, sunny's humour, daphne and faye's dynamic, laszlo's ambition, sasha's motherly love and intelligence, yaromyr and danareth's relationship, sissy's obnoxious clairvoyance, the list keeps expanding.

which of your characters do you think you'd be friends with in real life?

i'd have to go with ven, sunny, laszlo, and daphne. i think those four would both be people i'd want to befriend, and people who'd want to befriend me (hopefully).

which of your characters would you dislike most if you met them?

i think if i ended up on the wrong side of the fence with danareth, i would hate his guts. i love writing him, but he's such a slimy jerk sometimes that i don't think i would get along with him. i also don't think i'd like the owl from insincere., who's name is yet to be revealed. he sucks, but he does bite sissy, so he gets some goodwill. the last one i can think of would be arthur blackwood, just because he's rich and socially dense, and in the episode i'm writing, he's rude to daphne. and nobody can slight daphne without me hating them (characters i mean). nobody in school rules nor dulcinea is dead has rubbed me the wrong way yet, thankfully.

tell me more about the process of coming up with your characters.

it's hard to pin down my process since it's so emotionally driven. i just make characters on instinct, usually starting with a scene of conversation between multiple characters that i imagine based off a feeling. that's how it works for basically all of my characters. they just kind of... appear in my brain half-formed, then i begin to refine them.

do you notice any recurring themes/traits among your characters?

i've considered doing protagonist profiles to find similarities between all of them. i mostly write teenage protagonists, and i like writing characters who are super driven to achieve their goal. additionally, a lot of them are traumatised or will be traumatised in their respective series. a lot of emotional turbulence in store for all of my characters!

how do you picture your characters?

i don't, at least in any way i can properly describe. when i imagine scenes in my head every single character has a fully realised appearance, but it exists beyond any way i'm capable of explaining it. i can say i picture them in live-action, yet recently when i picture insincere. i picture it in 2d animation, with very minimalist animation for ven (like moving at a slower frame rate if that makes sense), sissy with rubberhose animation kind of like spinel or jax, and the owl being very expressive in its animation.

my writing

what's your reason for writing?

there's a lot of reasons. i've always been borderline maladaptive daydreaming and had minor dissociative episodes recently, it just feels easier for me to exist in a world i design to my own tastes. it's easier to cope with my existence when i do stuff like that, which probably isn't healthy but whatever. i write to get everything out of my head and because it's fun!

is there any specific comment or type of comment you find particularly motivating coming from your readers?

i'm honestly still shocked i have readers! that aside, i love all comments, but the ones that really tell me people care about what i write is theories, headcanons, and other noticings like that, those types of comments just make me feel amazing. i also find the "x is just like me fr" funny because that's how i express my love for a character and it shows me that character is either funny or semi-relatable.

how do you want to be thought of by those who read your work?

i just want to be someone who inspired some thought in the reader, and just gave them a good time! i'd be insanely flattered if people took massive meaning from my work and made those amazing tumblr mini-essays about the themes or characters i write about, but all in all i think i want to be thought of as a writer who writes things that people simply enjoy, and want to come back to, maybe make some fan content about. just a small set of slightly memorable pieces in an infinite archive.

what do you feel is your greatest strength as a writer?

this is gonna sound sad, but i often can't see distinct admirable traits in my writing. if i had to think further out, i might go to my characters. i love my characters so much, and i think because i think about them so much, the nuance that exists in my head about them bleeds into my writing and makes my characters interesting and memorable (hopefully haha).

what have you been frequently told by others is your greatest strength as a writer?

i've been told a few things. no commentary straight from the archives, at least from anything i can remember, but in my real life i've been told i write dialogue well (which i somewhat agree with) and that i write enjoyable/interesting characters.

how do you feel about your own writing?

very mixed. i can't give a solid verdict because i hate my older work because it's cringe, but the stuff i'm writing currently and that i'm still passionate about i enjoy reading back (sometimes), and i think i like what i write now. i'm so proud i got my writing out there into the archives, either way.

if you were the last person on earth and knew your writing would never be read by another human, would you still write?

of course! that's what i was doing since before 2020, and even then my books were only circulated around family and close friends, as more of a symbolic gift than anything. i didn't get too much insight back, except for from certain relatives, which i always immensely appreciated. to circle back to the question, having an audience is still very new to me, and if it came down to the criteria the question proposes, i would still write.

when you write, are you influenced by what others might enjoy reading, or do you write purely what you enjoy? if it’s a mix of the two, which holds the most influence?

what i enjoy. i am now conscious of my audience, but then again i am not especially writing for an audience, like that's not what's at the forefront of my mind when i write. as grateful as i am for an audience at all (you guys are amazing <3), i'm writing for myself, as i have been since i was a kid.

wow, this was an insightful questionnaire! thank you again for tagging me in, my tag list is just below!

@introchasingstars, @honeybewrites, @noxxytocin, @moltenwrites, @tc-doherty,

@the-ellia-west, @theverumproject, @thecrazyalchemist, @laylathewordwitch, @dragonedged-if,

@leitereads, @autism-purgatory, @gioiaalbanoart, @drchenquill, @fenmere,

@leahnardo-da-veggie, @melpomene-grey, @yourpenpaldee, @corinneglass, @agirlandherquill,

@willtheweaver, @nczaversnick, @davycoquette, @glassfrogforest, @princeofhags,

and @wyked-ao3!

[respectthepetty]

Second wild theory based on some thoughts and your tags that all Phee and Tan want is a confession: what if that's true? What if Phee and/or Tan gets the gun and starts an exposition drop about Non while holding the remaining boys are gunpoint and demanding answers and THEN THEY GET ATTACKED BY THE KILLER WHO IS NON'S BROTHER???

First, I need you to know that on a scale of "being completely normal about this show" to "if this show fails me, it'll be my villain origin story" that I'm currently FAR PAST the latter.

So with that being stated, I'm operating off of Wild Ass (Slasher) Theory 101 for this show aka

We've already met the killers and brother.

TLWR: Non is still alive. And it's all Dr. Sammon and Pit Babe's fault.

All the players are already on the board. We've seen all them in the first half, so now we are being reminded that we have seen them in the second half, like how the woman Keng was speaking to on the phone in episode seven about the money laundering was there in episode six.

And Perth's character was there too. (In the background in the purple/black jackets with the grey shirt)

So we've already met the brother somewhere in the first six episodes. Considering that two of those episodes were set in the past and Non would've noticed his brother, that means that we've seen the brother in the present.

We all keep stating White or Tan is Non's brother. There are some theories Perth is Non's brother, but he didn't notice him the gambling hall, and if the parents are really sending money to their gambling son then what is life?

White is my vote for final gay, and yours too. White is morally superior to the rest of the group and he is clever, which are two qualities a final girl must have. He also has a thin background story - he is dating Tee. Tan has no background story. He is simply everyone's friend who came along AFTER Non went missing; therefore, he is Non's brother.

And I think that Phi and Tan wanted the boys to confess to whatever they did to Non. Phi's dad was and perhaps still is a police chief. Tee's uncle is possibly going to jail, but wanted Non dead. Perth's character might be an uncovered reporter like the lady speaking to Keng was, and maybe, just maybe, the knowledge of what happened to Non could be of use to somebody beyond just Tan and Phi.

So scare the living shit out of the boys? Sure! Terrify the hell out of them? Of course! Maybe stab them a little bit here and there? Well, when in Rome (or the woods), do as the Romans do. Give them some hallucinogenics? Duh! Yet I don't think they intended to kill any of them (well, at least not until they got the confession).

But Por just had to run into the damn tree after seeing something in the camera.

Which caused Phi to ask Fluke how long he could keep Por alive since they planned to get that confession before the next vehicle arrived. But then Fluke cancelled their Uber.

White found the walkie-talkie that could be called for help. White found the gun that Fluke is now waving at everyone. White found the knife. White realized there was no cell phone service. White saw the tape. Pure and innocent White just keeps doing ALL the things that nobody asked him to do when WHITE WASN'T SUPPOSED TO EVEN BE THERE IN THE FIRST PLACE!

But now we have Jin seeing Mr. Keng, and Fluke spilling all the tea as he screams that "these fuckers killed someone," so Tan is going to get what he came for one way or another, even if a couple of dead bodies have to be exchanged for him to finally hear what happened three years ago to his brother?

And all of this makes sense in my head. Tan and Phi just wanted a confession. They didn't want anyone to die. However, they couldn't control every aspect of this weekend plan and shit went off the rails. Por ran into a tree. Fluke got a gun. Their Uber was cancelled. And now they have to figure out how to finish this murder mystery party when half the participants are losing their effing minds.

But then there is Uncle Dang.

And our Troublesome Trio looked genuinely shooketh when they saw what had become of him.

In Wild Ass (Slasher) Theory 101, nothing is supernatural. The killer can be everywhere because there is more than one killer, and that's why I'm praying Non is still alive.

The boys made Non the killer. Jin said since Non wrote the killer, Non would understand him better than anyone else.

Uncle Dang died first in the original film. Por was the director who took Non's writing credit. Top was the next to die before he screamed "cut!" at everyone. Fluke was probably next after that. Tee replaced Non, so it would have been Tee and Jin in the end, and Jin was the original main character and final gay as he deserted Non in the woods.

Non is finishing his movie, the way he wrote it.

And this is where my crazy really kicks in.

Phi knows.

Por, Fluke, Tee, Top, and Jin did a very bad thing to Non and ALL have seen and heard something out there in the woods.

White is Tee's boyfriend. He came around after Non went missing. He has seen a rash on his skin.

Tan is probably Non's brother. He wants a confession, but Tan saw something in the house that scared him.

Phi has seen . . . nothing. Phi has heard . . . nothing. He knew how to work the security system. He keeps giving orders. He continues to state the killer is a person.

And he'll do anything for Non.

He was very upset at Non, but he did tell Non he'd forgive him . . . if Non got lost and died.

Por, Fluke, Tee, Top, and Jin couldn't decide if Non was missing or dead, and the mafia is sending death threats and putting hits out on Non, so perhaps Non took a note from Pit Babe's Charlie and died. Or maybe he took a note from a different Tan and died (after killing his boyfriend).

Dr. Sammon, the writer behind Manner of Death, and Pit Babe's writers are the writers for Dead Friend Forever. Pit Babe is based off a novel, but in the Venn Diagram of BLs in which someone fakes his death the overlap is very slim with Chains of Heart being the third, and surprisingly, the screen writer for that series also wrote the screenplay for Dr. Sammon's Make a Wish. The world is small.

So why not disappear? Why not fake his own death?

But also, why wait three years to show back up?

Because the main threat is neutralized and awaiting jail time, but maybe, just maybe, Non hasn't been completely quiet for three years.

Mr. Keng very well might have died from the mafia. He was warned to watch out knowing how dangerous investigating them could be.

But . . . what if somebody else killed him?

Like I wrote at the beginning, I'm being crazy about this show. Wanting Non to be alive is very wishful thinking, but in my mind, if anyone is attacking these boys, I want it to be him. Tan seems pissed, but the most he has done is (intentionally) lose Top in the woods, and Phi is busy protecting Jin (because he wants to save him for last?), so they might start demanding answers in all this chaos, but if Phi's boyfriend died like Pit Babe's Charlie, don't you think he'd be like Barbie and forgive his boyfriend if he came back into his life magically? And don't you think he'd be willing to help his boyfriend get revenge on all the boys who left him for dead, especially the one who is about to leave the country forever?

Because I think he would.

But, then again, Non could actually be dead and Jin could be a good guy who I keep incorrectly blaming for everything.

Because it wouldn't be the first time Dr. Sammon killed a gay.

But it would be the first time she kept him dead.

So is this gonna be like Director Tee & Co. finally skipping out on a time jump when I needed it the most in Hidden Agenda even though that's what he is known to do, or is Dr. Sammon and the Pit Babe crew going to stick to the game plan and raise the gay from the dead?

I guess I'll have to wait and see.