#is a fucking cesspit of weird assholes

[batwynn]

Love how people will go online and brag about not seeing other people as people with their entire, disgusting chest.

And then, of course, there’s the comments agreeing or doubling down on how the person was ‘doing too much’ etc. God fucking forbid someone asks for something with some specifics, never mind what dietary needs they might have. Never mind that cream and sugar offer actual calories vs black coffee.

[unfinishedslurs]

weird jock shit (stonathan)

“Byers knows what I’m talking about,” Steve cheers, and follows it with a slap to Jonathan’s ass. A zing of heat goes up his spine. 

He straightens, startled, and he and Steve stare at each other. 

“Um.” He’s at a loss for words. There’s no way Steve Harrington actually just slapped his ass. That is not his reality. He refuses it.

His mouth is hanging open. He shuts it. 

“Sorry,” Steve says sheepishly. “Habit.”

His mouth opens and closes, until finally he forces words out. “Habit? I—who—Nancy?”

“Jesus, no!” Steve yelps. “No it’s, uh…theguysontheteam.” It’s rushed and under his breath, and Jonathan has no idea what he just said. 

“What?”

Steve lets his head thump onto the table. “It’s locker room shit,” he admits wearily.

Jonathan hasn’t set foot in the locker room since middle school. Mr. Grayson could yell at him for wearing jeans and a t-shirt instead of the gym uniform all he wants, there’s no way in hell he was going into that cesspit of jocks who’d take one look at him and call him gay for being in the same room as them. 

“You just…routinely slap other guy’s asses? Like it’s normal?”

Steve nods, steadily growing redder. 

“And they called me queer?”

As soon as it’s out of his mouth, Jonathan wants to take it back. He basically just said that Steve and every other jock was doing gay shit. Steve might regret the shit he’s said and done, but that doesn’t mean he’s okay with someone implying things about him. 

To his surprise, Steve just chuckles. 

“Yeah,” he sighs, running a hand down his face. “It’s fucking weird, huh? Assholes, the lot of us.”

“You said it, not me.”

[terraliensvent]

I just checked into the species after months of lurking, how is Terraliens now even more insufferable than it was before lmao. Every mature and somewhat respectable person left so now it’s full of socially inept assholes who can be racist or weird without any repercussions whatsoever. What the fuck happened?

(Don’t send if not anon please)

every time theres a big drama, a group of people leaves

terras has had a lot of drama

now its just a cesspit on an exponential scale

[golbrocklovely]

*SnC respond to the redditors*

*redditors 'lets continue to flood their videos' 'oh their deleting comments, ok lets turn into assholes and just post cruel shit*

Me *wtf is wrong with these people? you've got what you wanted, their going to react to your dumb shit, leave them the fuck alone. Maybe stop flooding the video now?' This just proves the redditors don't actually care for what their forcing SnC to do, their just there for drama.

So honestly fuck the redditors, they should be ashamed of themselves and quite honestly if there was a way to shut down that sub reddit again no one would miss it. It's just a cesspit of drama queens.

Sorry for the vent, but this made me so fucking angry. I hate bullies and that's all they are at this point.

with a situation like this, they are never going to please everyone. some want them to completely denounce cody and satori, some want them to stand their ground, and some wish they would stop talking about this altogether.

it's a messy situation that didn't have to get messy. it's one thing to ask snc to maybe be weary of cody and satori, but to call this a controversy, harass them, and then demand a response is…. very weird.

and especially all over ghost hunting. like don't get me wrong, i believe in the paranormal. but like…. bffr here.

[whentheynameyoujoy]

Women in SPN—Is it Really That Bad?

TL;DR: Somewhat, yeah, it kinda is.

This is going to be a series of long ones, people.

Before I jump head first into this giant vat of weird toxic shit, let me say something:

The thing about most of the female characters is that on their own? They’re perfectly fine, ranging from serviceable to the occasional flash of thematic brilliance. Barely any of them qualify as “this is hateful on its face and incompetent regardless of context and the writers should feel bad for ever conceiving of it”, i.e. the normie benchmark for justified criticism. It’s only when you put these characters next to each other that a worrying pattern emerges;

Although discussions about sexism in the media were very much a thing in the mid-2000s, as well as shows with characters whose primary role wasn’t to serve a man’s needs, I can’t honestly claim that the flaws of SPN are out of the norm for its time; and

The first few seasons could really do with a PSA at the start of each episode, something along the lines of “A part of the reason why female characters are killed off or written out with such regularity is rabid superfans who couldn’t abide anything with tits brushing against J2, srsly, the writing team and the 2000s’ fan base were a match made in hell, except it wasn’t the writers who couldn’t do with bitching on their LiveJournals about the gall of women to exist in the show, choosing instead to harass the creators and actresses and wives and call them every sexist insult under the sun AND I MEAN WHAT THE FUCK IS WRONG WITH YOU PEOPLE HAS THERE EVER BEEN A CESSPIT AS DISGUSTING AND NUKEWORTHY AS THE SPN FANDO—“

Anyway.

SPN has a legacy (as a posterchild for not knowing when to bow out gracefully, but legacy nonetheless) and isn’t watched in 2005 but in the year of our Lord Today. Meaning that as time goes by, the issues surrounding the show’s production retreat into the background and only what’s on the screen remains, to be judged on its own merits.

So let’s run down a list of the more noteworthy and relevant female characters of the first arc, focusing on their characterization, role in the narrative, and end. In the conclusion to this series of posts, the sum of characters will be analyzed as a whole to see if there are any unique tendencies in the show’s handling of women as opposed to that of men. I’ll do this for the original five seasons as the recent finale went out of its way to say that nothing after season 5 was strictly speaking necessary so why bother.

(Also because I died of frustration in season 8 and vowed not to subject myself to any more of the post-apocalypse fanfic era)

Angels, while strictly speaking genderless clouds of energy, will be classified as men or women depending on the apparent gender of the vessel they spend most of the time riding. The same goes for demons where I also take into account their stated gender while they were alive. That’s because although beings like Meg, Ruby, Anna, or Lilith can’t technically be considered women in the show’s present day, their consistent preference for conventionally attractive and/or female vessels throughout the original arc makes claims of genderlessness essentially meaningless. For all intents and purposes, we’re watching girls and women on screen.

Baby—the only true NB of the first run

All right, time to jump.

Say hi to our ladies!

Mary Winchester

Killed in the very first scene to give the story a reason to exist, she remains an active presence throughout the first arc where she has a wide-reaching influence on the plot and characters, driving the conflict on several levels. Fleshed-out more and more with each appearance to be more than just “the dead mom”, she’s portrayed as protective, pro-active, capable, and assertive, mirroring the duo’s desire for normal life and their inability to have it. Her story comes full-circle in season 5 when the personal tragedy of her fate is embedded in the wider tragedy of the Winchester family curse and the overall theme of destiny.

Status: Dead as of s5

Importance: Major

On her own: Textbook example of fridging… and that tropes aren’t bad in and of themselves.

Jessica Moore

Comparatively, if anyone doubts fridging can evolve into something meaningful, Jess drives the point home by having no personality and no point but to prop up her boyfriend before she ends up pinned to the ceiling, the reveal of which is the most interesting thing about her entire existence. At best she’s a symbol of Sam’s civilian life, at worst an obstacle to be removed for the story to happen.

Status: Dead as of s5

Importance: Major in terms of manpain, non-existent otherwise

On her own: A cardboard cut-out, barely qualifies as a character

Missouri Moseley

A psychic and the primary reason why John Winchester even knows to wipe his ass. Appears once over the course of the first arc yet everyone wants her to come back years later—that’s how awesome she is. Has this fantastic trait of being compassionate and empathetic while not taking a single speck of shit from anyone, especially when it comes from the two main dumbos who might just as well have been raised in a barn. Is very particular about the pristine state of her coffee table.

Status: Alive as of s5, killed in s13 (wait, what?)

Importance: Major…ly wasted potential

On her own: As strong a character as Bobby Singer, and as worthy of being elevated to the main cast.

Lori Sorensen

The writers can’t figure out why anyone in the universe would care about Jess either so they insert an intentionally awkward romance subplot to convince people the time’s not yet ripe for Sam to stop grieving and start slaying. The result’s… erm… well, awkward. Lori’s naïve, sheltered, devout though accepting of her non-repressed friend, and sort of on a religious crossroads because of her hypocritical preacher father. I guess the virginal power of her virginal virginity does… something in the plot? Primarily a vehicle for Sam to mark the stages of his moving on.

Status: Alive as of s5

Importance: Minor

On her own: A bit done. Like a bit lot. Like a “could be a trope namer” bit lot.

Meg

Boom, baby!

Arguably the chief antagonist of season 1 and one of the best things about it. The first one to point out the pervasive toxicity of the Winchester family business, so props for perceptiveness. Possesses the standard qualities of a lower-level henchman—manipulative, no-nonsense, and quietly sinister which, while not exactly groundbreaking, sets her apart from the other bad guys in the season as they tend to have no distinguishing characteristics at all. Plus Nicki Aycox makes the role seem more unique and “lived-in” by projecting a sense of understated amusement at the two main chucklefucks. Is one of S1’s turning points in blurring the lines between monsters and humanity. Has a face transplant twice—once to have revenge (good on her) and the other time to pursue someone else’s goals again before getting stomped into the ground like a mook.

Status: Alive as of s5 (?), killed in s8

Importance: Major

On her own: The actresses do most of the heavy lifting. Which doesn’t mean I don’t love watching the character burst onto the scene and announcing the end of the Winchester brand of bullshit.

Layla Rourke

A terminal cancer patient in a religious cult, she’s a more mature take on a Lori-type character and the themes of faith and doubt. Serves as a conduit for Dean’s budding survivor guilt, self-loathing, and sense of worthlessness. Is kind and cheerful, with strong hints that she’s relying on forced optimism to get through the days; also understanding of the circumstances of others while realistically freaked about the possibility of death. Weirdly, she enters the episode already in a state of acceptance and leaves it just as accepting when it’s confirmed that yeah, she’ll die soon. All expressions of anger at the injustice and senselessness are left to her mother which somewhat undermines the “struggling” portion of Layla’s character and renders the final scene where she makes peace with her fate a bit hollow.

Status: Implied dead

Importance: Minor in the overall narrative, major in the episode and Dean’s development

On her own: I want to like her, I really do, just… if only she were allowed to get pissed, once.

Cassie Robinson

Dean’s ex and that’s pretty much all there is to her. I struggle to pinpoint a single personality trait of hers—the 2000s idea of a “strong woman” and “not like other girls”, perhaps? Undermined as a love interest because TPTB don’t show the happy or any parts of her relationship with Dean so really, why should anyone care if two sniping assholes with little to no chemistry get back together? Memorable for being in a horribly scored softcore scene which YouTube tries to convince me lasts for shy over a minute, not the week I remember it to. Involved in the show’s first and last attempt at incorporating the issue of anti-black racism.

Status: Alive as of s5

Importance: Minor

On her own: She’s in the racist truck episode. ‘Nuff said.

Sarah Blake

A sophisticated people-person conversationalist with a love of high art and a deep sense of introspection. Ascends to the state of godhood by being able to pull off pigtails while adult. Bonds with Sam over responding to loss by crawling into a shell but deciding to move on. Doesn’t care for your fancy schmancy fine dining, Romeo. Isn’t ashamed to openly talk feelings which includes her explicitly asking Sam if they have a thing going on (honestly, this is such a breath of fresh air for a normcore romance). Despite being scared out of her wits, she refuses to be shoved into the helpless civilian box after learning about the existence of the supernatural; Dean creates a Pinterest wedding board in response.

Status: Alive as of s5, pointlessly dragged back to be murdered in s8

Importance: Minor in the overall narrative, major in the episode and Sam’s development

On her own: A great love interest that has enough writing behind her to fool you into thinking she’s something more.

Up next, whenever I feel like it, seasons 2 and 3!

[clown-bait]

Monster Family (Monster Roommate AU) Ch4

Pennywise agrees to hang out with his mate and gets LIT in an Applebees. Believe it or not this chapter is semi based on personal experience. I'll let everyone decide what part that might be.

CH4 LIT

“Oh great she brought the ball and chain.” Freddy groaned as his friend walked through the doors of the only with a bar in town the three of them weren't banned from. Trailing behind her a very uncomfortable Robert Gray groaned in annoyance when he realized they were in a family restaurant.

“Peachy there are children here!” he hissed in annoyance as the scent of delicious screaming baby assaulted his nose from the dining area.

“If I can control my self in an arcade full of street fighter virgins you can handle being in an Applebees for a couple hours. Besides we can't go to any regular bars since we have to pass Chucky off as Freddy’s kid.”

Pennywise huffed in annoyance at the mention of his tenant. “Then we could do this at our own home. You cant even partake in this anyway.” he grumbled

“Pen the point of going out is that it prevents me from getting stir crazy and doing something to piss you off again out of boredom. You better get used to atmospheres like this anyway with kids on the way.”

“I won't be bringing them to cesspits of noise and grease such as this.”

“Then you're sure in for a surprise Jingles havin’ kids is just traveling from one cesspit to another!” Chucky laughed in his booster seat while pouring another colorful mixed drink into his sippy cup.

“The fact that you've gone this far for entertainment is pathetic.” the eldritch spat as his tennant flipped him off. “Does your wife know you've started stooping so low as to play baby just to enjoy a night out?”

“Does your’s know you've been sniffin’ her panties while she’s at work like a creep?”

Leech deadpanned as she sat down “Hi Chuck I’m literally right here, also Pen that's gross.”

“Says the woman who fucked a spider.” Pennywise grunted as he tested one of the colorful drinks on the table.

Freddy groaned and took a deep drink “Aaaaand this is why we don't let you bring him.”

“Yeah Fred you're one to talk, pretty sure this whole Chris rebound thing you're going through has led to some weird rendezvous. The Bye-Bye Man comes to mind-” the vampire sneered and a clawed hand was shoved across her face.

“SHH don’t fucking say his name! Fuck now he’s gonna find me and ask why I haven’t called.”

Leech continued to tease the dream demon as her disguised clown began his second "hurricane". At least the drinks were sweet and he was able to quell some of the hunger within him with the sugary alcoholic beverages. Leech glanced over at her mate noticing the nearly empty glass.

"Woah slow down there tiger I know you’re large but that's gonna hit you fast"

"Peachy Pie I’m not human do not worry for me. Instead continue insulting Krueger I was enjoying that."

"You're my ride home you better be able to teleport while drunk."

"I’m fiiinneee"

"That response alone is suddenly filling me with so many regrets." she groaned.

"Lighten up Fangs they water the drinks down anyway." Freddy rolled his eyes and flagged down their waitress for another round of drinks. Robert let out a loud hiccup and giggled as Chucky silently observed with interest. Several moments later the eldritch began to sway slightly, barely hearing the conversation anymore and instead letting a literal wandering eye drift around the room hungrily resting on potential targets.

"Jingles is drunk" Freddy nonchalantly grunted.

"Are you shitting me?" Leech growled and glanced over to her mate who seemed normal until he turned to her his cheek split open at the side revealing a fang filled maw underneath.

"Yeess?" the eldritch attempted a suave look on his out of control face and tapped too many fingers over his chin as his hooded eyes drifted apart.

"Jesus fuck Pen control yourself."

"Im aaaaallways in control darling." He purred getting all the way into her personal space as drool fell from from his lips and onto her shirt.

"Oh my god its like owning a fucking mastiff with you sometimes." Leech groaned and playfully shoved him away despite his persistent growls and chitters against her skin. “Put the teeth away honey you're in public”

“Get a damn room.” Chucky yelled and the eldritch's head snapped in his direction roaring horribly in annoyance.

“Fangs uh he's really becoming a problem someone is gonna notice this.”

“Its weird that he got fucked up so fast, he only had two watered down drinks.” Chucky said as he studied the disguised clown.

“You're right give me your water” Leech hastily grabbed the clear liquid in front of the dream demon and tipped it against her mate’s lips. Freddy moved to stop her but stopped when Robert Gray’s face opened unnaturally wide to dump the liquid down in one gulp.

“FANGS! That was pure vodka.” Freddy yelled.

“Why the FUCK do you have a cup full of vodka?”

“Why the fuck not?” he growled and popped a small chocolate into his mouth. The eldritch stopped his swaying and stitched his face back together the room becoming much more clear as his eyes aligned once more.

“Who tried to poison me?” Robert groaned rubbing his temples completely sober. Freddy and Leech both stared at him dumbfounded. “HOW?!” they both shouted. Robert cocked an eyebrow.

“Belief.” he said simply and plucked a chocolate from Freddy's hand plopping it into his mouth. “I function on belief and imagination. I am serious about the poisoning which of you was it?”

“So what you're telling me is if I believe that apple juice could make you shitfaced it’ll happen.” Chucky smirked.

Robert sighed in annoyance knowing his three companions well enough now that his question will never be answered. “In a way yes.”

“Don't even try it Chuck.” Leech snarled but stopped when she felt her mate’s hand on her shoulder.

“Tricks will not work he has to absolutely believe it will happen.”

Freddy finally spoke up waving a gloved hand to get their attention “Uh guys….What happens if I believed that there were some pretty interesting party drugs in that candy.”

The vampire and the eldritch both froze.

“Please tell me you didn't.” Leech grabbed her friends stripped sweater

“I did.”

Chucky sighed and took a long sip of his drink “We’re gonna get banned from fucking Applebees.”

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

Pennywise had blinked and suddenly he was no longer at the restaurant. There was music that was loud and pulsing and sweaty bodies bumped into him from all sides. How did he get here? His limbs felt like jelly and he was holding some type of weird blue beverage. He took a large gulp of it to sooth the dryness in his throat and made his way back to the red lights that must be the bar. Despite being disoriented he did feel good, giggly even. He hadn't even realized his human disguise was part-way to “clown mode”, his face baring his trademark makeup, but he did notice that the other people around him were dancing he should probably as well. He needed to blend in after all. So he began to sway and move to the music leaping through the air dramatically like an acrobat. It felt like a full 27 years had passed as he performed but if he stopped the illusion would be ruined. Thus he had to keep dancing.  As he swayed and stumbled in euphoria he bumped into the first face he had recognized in this new location who nearly fell from the weight of the cross faded eldritch colliding with his spindly frame. “Holy shit Jingles there you are!”

“Krueger!” the clown nearly shouted and pirouetted with the grace of a ballet dancer.

“Have you been drinking more?”

“I found a pretty blue drink on a tray! Pretty and sweet!”

“You're a riot Jingles.” the dream demon laughed “Who'd have thought you'd have it in you to steal drinks.”

More of the clown's human disguise melted and he giggled uncontrollably grabbing the dream demon into a back breaking hug.

“Pennywise is glad to see you my friend yes he iss! I was so lost in this strange new place!”

“This is the cenobites nightclub idiot also put me down jesus!”

“Mmmm but you are warm and small!”

“Save it for your girlfriend bozo.” Freddy shoved his tall drugged companion back and straightened himself.

“Peachy!? She's here?"

"Man you really are messed up. She's the one who dragged your ass here after you nearly mauled someone at Applebees. Said it was my fault and put me on babysitting duty."

The clown dramatically tapped his wet chin then grinned wide with an idea

"Krueger I wish to dance with my mate fetch her for me!" He growled puffing out his chest in a display of cockiness.

"What do I look like your servant?"

"........are you not?"

"Fetch your own woman.” Freddy grunted and left deciding the nosferatu could deal with her beloved man child herself.

-------

Leech sat in a private room her housemate in a stolen booster seat beside her chains hung from the ceiling as a high stakes poker game took place below. The vampire ripped off her sunglasses in annoyance.

"Seriously Pinhead turn some fucking lights on in here."

"You are the one insisting on wearing eye protection indoors."

"Its a bluffing tactic!"

"Fangs no one actually wears sun glasses outside league games except for assholes like you and Krueger."

The nosferatu snarled and ripped her glasses off. "If I lose I'm blaming all of you."

"Learn to lie better trashpire. I fold." Chucky sat back in his booster seat taking a drag off a joint much to Leech's annoyance.

"You've been folding a lot. Also Chuck, pregnant stop smoking."

"Fangs we're playing against a goat and a guy with no eyebrows. I don't think either of them has ever made an expression other than neutral in their immortal lives." The doll grumbled snuffing the joint out and putting it back in his front pocket. He turned to the growing bump under his friends shirt "Take note kids uncle Chucky is doing this for you now so you wont eat me later."

Leech rolled her eyes at him "I raise."

"You have nothing left to bet idiot." The doll shouted and Pinhead smiled at his cloven hooved companion.

"Nothing physical."

The vampire cocked her eyebrow with interest a low purr formed in her throat "Are we raising the stakes?"

"Fangs, Jingles will kill me if-" the doll was cut off quickly by a cold pale hand to his mouth.

"Quiet Chatty Cathy. Continue."

"I have a very lovely crock pot, stainless steel 4 different settings, no stick. All you have to wager is a simple IOU." The dark furred goat hissed into the air like a whisper.

"Why the hell would a vampire need a crock-"

"DEAL!" Leech slammed her fist on the table fangs gleaming in her wide smile. Chucky gasped like a fish in protest. The large black goat let out a horrible guttural hiss.

"Shake her hand hell priest and the game will continue."

"Sire I believe that crock-pot was the one you borrowed from me-"

"SHAKE HER HAND"

Leech grabbed Pinhead's hand before anything else could be said. "You have no idea how much blood pudding I'm going to make with that thing."

"Well this definitely won't come bite all of us in the ass later." Chucky sighed and slumped back in his booster seat.

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

Pennywise felt amazing. Lights flashed all around him as people brushed against him from all sides. Normally this would repulse him but tonight touch felt good and the loud noise vibrated his form's bones making his muscles tingle. A woman touched his arm and his skin melted from the feeling. Why was he here again? Someone he was looking for, someone he actually liked. Then there she was, in her messy platinum wig bobbing in the ebb and flow of the dance floor. He felt his body tingle with excitement and he pushed other monstrous creatures out of his way to get to his precious queen. "Hiya gorgeous~" he purred his usual greeting to her and pulled her to him kissing her deeply. He felt like the most romantic suave person in the room and Leech felt amazing against him. Her lips were warm and soft she smelled of fresh flowers sending tingles up his spine. Then the moment was broken when a voice that definitely was not his mate's came out of her mouth and the intoxicated Pennywise realized the person he just passionately kissed was not the mother of his children. He realized it a second time when an icy cold claw pulled him back and broke his cherry red nose.

I think he might be in trouble.

[chasholidays]

Could you please do a Bellamy POV of Bromans episode 8? Specifically including Clarke’s fight with Ontari because I’ve always wondered what the his and the cast’s reactions were!

Original fic here!

By the last episode of Bromans, Bellamy is generally prepared for the worst. Or, if not the worst, at least the most absurd and least good for him, personally. That’s the general Broman vibe.

Well, okay, the Clarke thing was good. Bromans is the best thing that’s happened to his relationship with her in years, but it’s unclear how much credit the show itself deserves for that. It’s not like the producers were trying to get him and Clarke together, and while the forced proximity was definitely a factor, that was entirely his and Clarke’s decision. The challenges haven’t made a huge difference, give or take the one where he had to ID Clarke’s breasts. But, again, they weren’t trying to destroy his sanity or upgrade his relationship, and it’s not like it helped with his general mental state.

So he feels pretty comfortable saying that Bromans is trying to kill him and never gives him anything good. Anything good he gets from it is incidental and unintentional. At best, the show is ridiculous.

Which means that when Murphy takes them away after breakfast on the second-to-last day, he’s expecting something especially terrible. Any deviation from the routine is usually a red flag, especially this late in the game.

“Seriously, no hints?” he asks Murphy.

Murphy glances over his shoulder. “What part of our whole vibe makes you think I’m going to give you hints? That’s not the dynamic we’ve got going. I don’t actually like you.”

“Bullshit,” says Dax. “He’s totally your favorite.”

“That doesn’t mean I like him,” Murphy shoots back, without missing a beat. “It just means I hate all you other assholes more. No offense.”

“Ah yes, the elusive inoffensive I hate all you assholes,” says Roan, dry as sand. “Very hard to pull off.”

“Whatever, I’m not telling anyone shit, so who cares what my personal ranking of favorites is? Legatus will tell you when he tells you.”

“He’ll be taking each of you aside individually,” Anya puts in. At least it’s someone’s job to be helpful. “Order will be Dax, Roan, Ilian, Bellamy. Once you’re done with Legatus, you’ll have individual interviews, and then you’ll go back to your girlfriends together. All clear?”

They chorus their agreement, used to this kind of thing by now, and speculate on what might be coming as they walk. The most convincing theory to Bellamy is that they’re doing some sort of individual physical trial, although everyone has their own idea of what he specifics will be. Roan is sure they’ll have to fight Lincoln in single combat, but Bellamy has to believe that’s not true. Lincoln would wipe the floor with him and Octavia would mock him for the rest of their lives. And, honestly, none of them are up to beating Lincoln in a fight, so there’s no way that can be it. They already have enough footage of everyone getting their asses kicked in training, they don’t need more.

But having to complete some weird strength test to prove their worthiness feels completely on brand for the show, and Bellamy can probably do that. He was in good shape before the show started, and the daily workouts and challenges definitely have him even better off. He’s not the best physical specimen on the show, but he still likes his odds to win, depending on the challenges.

Going last in any event is always a little stressful, especially when he doesn’t see the people doing it before him, but the good news is that no one’s paying any attention to what he’s up to, so he and Miller can just play Words With Friends while they wait.

It’s weird, the knowledge that he’s going to miss this. This ridiculous show and these ridiculous people. This whole ridiculous experience.

“Bellamy,” says Anya, pulling his attention from Miller. “Your turn.”

“If I die, tell Clarke to never let my sister live it down,” he says.

“Not that you love her?”

“She knows that. She might not know she killed me.” He wipes his hands on his tunic and stands, goes into the tent where Lincoln is waiting.

He and Lincoln haven’t been one-on-one very often, which is nice, if he’s honest. When they’re out in the open with all the other contestants, it’s a lot easier to remember that this is Legatus, their training master, not Lincoln, his almost brother-in-law.

“Legatus,” he says, with a nod.

The smile is all Lincoln. “Bellamy. Congratulations on making it this far, I knew you could. And I didn’t even have to cheat for you.”

“Would you tell me if you had?”

“Probably. I’d feel bad sooner or later.” He clears his throat. “Okay, real take?”

“Real take.”

It’s like flipping a switch; Lincoln’s face smooths out, going hard and serious, and suddenly he’s Legatus. “Bellamy. You have fought hard and overcome much, and now we have come to the end of the road. Tomorrow, we’ll find out if you have what it takes to earn your place among the Bromans. But no matter the outcome, you have proved yourself as a warrior.”

“Thank you.”

“In recognition of your accomplishments, I have prepared something for you. A gift.”

“A gift?” he blurts out, too surprised to remember to stay in some kind of character. “You’re giving gifts now?”

“You have done well, you deserve to be rewarded.” He claps his hands and a couple extras come in with–

Armor. Actual, real-life armor. It’s so fucking badass.

“Seriously?”

“You’ve earned it,” says Lincoln, letting probably a little too much sincerity bleed through into his voice. But he recovers fast. “Now, don’t let me down. Fight bravely tomorrow and show me what you’re made of!”

“I will.” He can’t help flashing a grin; they can cut it. “Thanks.”

Lincoln smiles back. “You’re welcome.”

*

After the unexpected gift of his own set of armor, Bellamy really isn’t sure what to expect next from the producers. It really could go anywhere at this point, so going back to the cesspit for the girls’ last challenge is actually a little disappointing. Clarke, at least, is excited, but she has a good history there. If he’d figured out how to (lowkey) cheat in as many challenges in the cesspit as she had, he’d like it too.

And it was kind of where they had their first kiss. That part was cool too. But he was hoping for something a little more dramatic.

“This should be straightforward,” Anya announces, once everyone is gathered and the shit-talking Clarke has died down. “You all know the drill by now. There are three bags, and you have to get two of them back to your pedestal. Only one bag at a time, and no one is allowed to help you. If you want to get the bag away from your competitor, you have to earn it. The winners of the first round will go on to compete against each other for the prize.”

“What is the prize?” Ontari asks.

Anya smiles her usual tight smile, like she realizes that there is no “prize” in Bromans that’s actually good. “You’ll get to pick your boyfriend’s first opponent in the emperor’s games.”

Even by their admittedly low standards, it’s pretty uninspired, but that doesn’t matter to Clarke. Clarke doesn’t need a reason to be competitive, she goes cut-throat competitive at the drop of a hat.

He really does love her.

“The first round will be Clarke versus Ontari and Gaia versus Raven,” Anya adds. “Raven, we need to check your leg in the water first.”

Bellamy leans in close to Clarke as Raven tests her brace in the water. “You know this doesn’t matter, right?”

“I know.”

“I don’t care who I fight.”

“Yeah, it doesn’t really matter.”

“Ontari is kind of scary.”

She makes a face. “A little, I guess? Not that scary.”

“All I’m saying is that the stakes could not be lower here. So you should just have fun.”

“Winning is fun,” she says, and he puts his arm around her, kisses her hair.

“I guess it is.”

On the one hand, he’s not really expecting Clarke to throw the match or anything. He knows better than to think she won’t try. But he’s hoping she won’t do anything extreme, or come up with some weird new trick that finally gets her banished from the show. It would be a real anticlimax to lose like that.

And, in Clarke’s defense, she does absolutely nothing to bend the rules. She picks up only one bag, takes it to her pedestal, glances at Ontari, then back at the bags. In theory, she’s got this–most people who win the sprint win the whole game, but Ontari’s more athletic than than Clarke and definitely fights more.

“I really hope Ontari doesn’t try to drown her,” Raven murmurs.

“I wish she was up against you or Gaia,” Bellamy admits. “I’m pretty sure she and Ontari both take this way too seriously.”

“Are you kidding? I’m going to win this. If I go up against Clarke, I’m going to crush her.”

“Yeah, but not, like, murder her.”

“Not if I don’t have to.”

“You don’t think Clarke can outrun her?” Roan asks.

“I think we’re going to find out.”

Really, the big issue is that Bellamy doesn’t actually have to watch Clarke do this very often. She did challenges when he was in “jail,” but everything else has been assisting him or ridiculous. He never had to worry the way she did about injuries, even ridiculous, historically inaccurate Broman injuries.

All he wants is for it to be over soon, so, of course, it lasts forever.

Bellamy realizes almost immediately how bad it’s going to be. He catches Clarke’s expression when Ontari jumps her, the hard, stubborn set of her jaw, a clear sign that she will stay there forever if that’s what she has to do to win.

“Someone should start a timer,” he mutters.

“A timer?” asks Gaia.

“This is going to take a while.”

“How long can you fight over a sand bag?” Raven asks, and it’s not as if she’s going to jinx it, but she’s definitely underestimating how stubborn Clarke is. But understanding starts to dawn on her (and everybody else) after about five minutes, when they’ve barely moved and Bellamy has already settled in.

“You weren’t kidding,” Ilian says, slumping down next to him.

“Honestly, we should have brought a deck of cards. Unless Dax thinks Ontari’s going to give up on this.”

“They’re going to die in that pool,” Dax says. From anyone else, Bellamy would take it as deadpan humor, but he can’t tell that Dax has a sense of humor, so they really might die in there.

“Legally we have to step in before anyone dies,” says Anya. “So let me know if you think it’s getting close.”

“None of you are making me feel better,” Bellamy grumbles.

“She’s definitely not going to drown,” Raven says, patting him on the shoulder. “And she’s probably going to win. But she’ll wear herself out and then I’ll beat her with, like, zero effort. So this is perfect for me.”

“I might beat you,” Gaia puts in. “I mean, I probably won’t. But there’s always a chance.”

Raven smiles like a shark. “Yeah, anything’s possible.”

Bellamy stops asking for updates on how long it’s been at the twenty-minute mark, mostly because he thinks hearing it is worse than not hearing it. There’s a part of him that just wants to yell to Clarke it doesn’t matter, but Ontari could end this at any time too, and she’s not, so it’s not like it’s Clarke’s responsibility to do it either. He’s not going to tell her to quit when she could win.

Still, this is getting ridiculous.

“Honestly, I’m not going to just throw it in, but she probably deserves the win just for doing this,” Raven says, after what has been at minimum forty minutes and could be as long as five hours, at this point. Time has lost all meaning. If the sun sets, he won’t be surprised.

“Is there any way you can edit it to make this look like the finals?” Bellamy asks Anya.

She seems as hypnotized as all of them, for once, but her reflexes are as sharp as ever. “Raven would kill me, so, no.”

“I’m glad we’re all just assuming I’m going to win,” says Raven. “Not that I’m not, but glad I’ve got your support.” She starts. “Wait, head’s up, Clarke is doing something.”

Bellamy’s attention snaps back to the cesspit, but it’s already almost over. Clarke must have surged forward, taking advantage of how exhausted Ontari was, and she smacks the sandbag onto the pedestal with a resounding thunk.

“Clarke wins,” says Anya, and Bellamy jumps into the water without thinking, dragging himself over to where Clarke has collapsed on top of her hard-won prize.

“Jesus, you could have just lost,” he tells her when he reaches her, laughing a little in disbelief. He saw it coming, but somehow she still surprised him.

She raises her head for a tired smile, and he pulls her arm over his shoulders, half-dragging her out of the water.

“Have you met me?” she asks.

He gives her a quick kiss. “I have, yeah. That was amazing.”

“How long was it?”

“No idea.” He kisses her hair, relieved beyond words that this happened now, when he’s allowed to kiss her as much as he wants. Ridiculous, yes, but this is the girl he fell in love with. “You know you have to do another round, right?”

“Yeah. Raven’s going to kick my ass, I’m so done.”

Raven and Roan are at the edge of the cesspit to help her up, Raven grinning ear to ear. “Fuck, I didn’t know you wanted it that much,” she teases.

“Like you don’t,” Clarke shoots back. She still looks exhausted, but Bellamy feels better with her out of the water, and even better when one of the crew has a towel he can use to try to warm her up. “Are you okay?” he murmurs, hopefully quietly enough that no one can hear it. He doesn’t need this to make it on TV.

“Tired.”

“Yeah.” He wraps her up in his arms, reveling in the fact that he can, that she wants him to. He hopes he never gets used to itl he wants to always feel this lucky to be holding her. “That was really fucking cool.”

“All I did was stay still.”

“Trust me, it was cool.”

Raven and Gaia don’t take nearly as long, of course, which means Clarke has to go again almost immediately. Anya actually steps in and makes them wait, gives Clarke some gatorade and has one of the medics clear her before she goes in again.

“I’m still going to lose,” Clarke tells him.

“You already won.” He kisses her. “Give her hell.”

Roan flashes him a smile as Clarke and Raven get set up. “We’ve done very well for ourselves, haven’t we?”

It’s not the kind of sentiment Bellamy would have expected to be feeling on the set of Bromans, but here he is. His life is, against all odds, awesome.

“Yeah,” he tells Roan. “We really did.”

*

The feeling dies the next day, at the exact second Murphy says “fascinum.”

The morning had been going pretty well up until then. They’d had an early night because Clarke was still worn out from the match with Ontari, and while her reminder that they’ll be home again soon with a real life to figure out was a little stressful, he’s pretty sure they’ll be fine.

Mostly he’s ready to be done, and he figured the games would take most of the day. He wasn’t anticipating the dick-shaped bump in the road, but he probably should have been. Dick statues are too good for Bromans to pass on. If he hadn’t had so much going on, he probably would have been realized it was happening. He would have been disappointed if they didn’t do this.

As it is, though, he kind of wants to die.

“Huh,” says Murphy, looking Bellamy up and down like this is the Roman trivia he finally cares about. Which, to be fair, it probably is. Assuming he’s like every other guy Bellamy knows who’s ever studied Latin. “I wasn’t sure you were gonna have that one off the top of your head.”

Bellamy shrugs. “I took Latin in high school, that one was a big hit with everyone. Big reactions.”

“Cool. You can share with the rest of the class.”

“Seriously?” It feels like they shouldn’t be able to do this on TV. Bromans cannot possibly be airing on HBO. It would explain where they got their budget, but it’s not an HBO show.

His dick is not going to be on TV. There’s no way.

“It’s an important part of Roman culture,” Murphy says, straight-faced.

Clarke is frowning at him. “Spill.”

His sigh will probably be cut like a dramatic pause, but mostly he’s very tired. He would rather fight Roan in single combat again. “We’re making penis charms.”

Roan’s dick is out almost before he’s even finished, before Bellamy’s even sure everyone else knows what’s happening. “My time has come!”

That sounds about right.

The problem, of course, is that it’s only Roan’s time. Roan is ready for this and excited, while the rest of them are just stripping down in front of a the entire cast and crew so they can stick their dicks into some cold plaster.

“Should we be, like–into this?” Dax asks, sounding dubious.

“If this is a kink for you, don’t tell me,” says Murphy. “I already know way more about all your dicks than I want to. Especially Roan. If you just found out this does it for you, keep it to yourself.”

“No, I mean–”

“He’s a grower,” Ontari supplies. “Not a shower.”

“Is it too late to quit this show?” Bellamy murmurs to Clarke. “We could leave, right? Hitchhike back?”

“Think about the kind of person who would pick up a hitchhiker with a flower pot on his dick,” she says. “That’s the last person you want to get a ride from.”

“I was thinking I’d beat up Miller and take his clothes first.”

“Wow, you’ve really got this figured out,” says Miller, dry. “After everything I’ve done for you?”

“Which one of us has our dick in a flower pot?” Bellamy shoots back. “I don’t have friends anymore. Just a list of people I hate. And Clarke.”

“I should probably be on the people you hate this, I’m really enjoying this.”

He glares at her. “How?”

“It’s hilarious and I get to look at your dick. What’s not to like?”

It’s hard to maintain complete annoyance when Clarke is saying nice things about his dick, which she has touched and wants to continue touching in the future. That’s an upside.

“I’m with Murphy, if this is a kink for you I don’t want to know,” he tells her, and she kisses his shoulder.

“Cool, I won’t tell you.”

Raven wants more information about fascinum because of course she does, and that conversation carries them through the end of actual molding process. Which, of course, leaves the awkward removal part, and then the cleaning up which, in a porno, would definitely involve Clarke blowing him, or possibly him, Roan, Ilian and Dax having an orgy, depending on the porno and its genre.

In real life, though, everyone is paying too much to removing their own dick pots to pay much attention to what he’s doing, and they’ve all showered together enough that the nudity isn’t even really that novel anymore. Sometimes it feels like he’s more familiar with Roan’s dick than he is his own at this point, but it’s probably just because he doesn’t have nightmares about his own dick.

“What were you expecting when you came here?” he asks the man in question.

“Hm?”

“Did you think you were going to be washing plaster off your balls?”

Roan seems to be really thinking it over, which means he might have, at some point in his life, thought about washing plaster off his dick.

Well, it’s Bellamy’s own fault for asking.

“Not this exactly, but the broad experience is what I was looking for. But I don’t see why you decided to do it, honestly,” is what he finally says.

“The Roman stuff isn’t enough of a reason?”

“This is a far more accurate experience than I was expecting, and it’s still not particularly realistic,” Roan says, not unreasonably. “I don’t think you were really expecting an authentic Roman getaway.”

“No.”

“So, what were you expecting?”

The truth, of course, was that he was expecting to spend a few weeks hanging out with his best friend and favorite person, and he’d be going slowly insane from fake PDA. It hadn’t been related to Bromans, specifically, which he had figured would be–

Kind of exactly what he got. Absurd and historically inaccurate and full of challenges he didn’t want to do and weird shit he and Clarke could laugh about later. If anything, it’s been better than he expected, even leaving aside the fact that Clarke’s actually in love with him too. He’s made friends and had fun and he may never live this down, but he could actually win, which is the best possible way to never live something down. He’s within spitting distance of being the best Broman, and if he’s not, there won’t be any shame in losing to Roan.

“Not sure,” he says, and smiles. “Nothing nearly this good.”

Roan grins and claps him on the shoulder. “That’s what I thought. Now, shall we go get our penis statues?”

Bellamy rolls his eyes. “We better, yeah.”

Only in Brome.

[schizocowboy]

god i fucking Love when bad people have a bad time!!! i love when awful bastards are either completely alone or surrounded by other assholes and theyre all weird and creepy and shitty to eachother rather than anyone else. it makes sense that people who are fundamentally repulsive and treat other human beings like garbage would wind up driving anyone decent away but it always just makes me so fucking happy to see. i know revelling in the misery of others is objectively a shitty thing to do morally speaking but it's so rare that people ever really get what they deserve and any kind of justice is so incredibly important to me. some people don't need to be in prison or in hell because the fact that they have to be themselves for the rest of their miserable lives is worse than any punishment anyone else could ever inflict on them. having to live as an abusive rapist is the worst thing i could possibly imagine and they're already in that particular psychological torture chamber and have been this whole time, and have to watch as the people they tried to swallow whole get away from them and have a chance to thrive and be happy and achieve things and find positive healthy connections with other people while they're trapped in the cesspit of their own isolated inescapable noxious mistake of humanity until they're dead. feels good to think about! maybe the only way that these people existing on the planet at all ever feels good to think about

[diamondarmored-blog1]

this is whiny af. and very long. bit of an explanation of some stuff and a wee request. 

warning, there’s a brief mention of sexual abuse and A LOT of historic drama. I’ve tried really hard not to appear in search tags for the relevant areas, so please try not to cause it to appear by mentioning the fandom or muse name without cutting it up (e.g. sei//fer) because as you’ll see, I don’t want these people near me. sit down and let uncle charlie tell you a horror story.

I’ve been slow again on here, I’M SORRY!! I was making an FFX blog. I know I’m getting a reputation for being a serial blog hopper, but the reason for that is, I’ve had two muses I really really loved and nothing else has ever come close. One was my Chuami, who naturally dropped in intensity as time went on (I don’t think that’s necessarily a bad thing - you can’t keep forcing a muse into ever more dramatic scenarios without giving them a break or they end up mutated and OP). The other was V//elka. Seifer is the nearest I’ve gotten but there’s still a void. :,(

V//elka did not die naturally. You may have seen me mention “the other fandom I was in” and how it’s a cesspit of bullying asscreases, sexual harassers, liars, stalkers, thieves and assorted other villains. But you have not heard the tale.

There was one other blog for that muse when I made mine. I asked her if she’d be okay with another being around, even though I’m not obliged to ask permission to make a blog, and she completely ignored me. I thought maybe it was a weird thing to ask, and my other blog in that fandom was welcomed and pretty popular with the non-RPer audience we had. I was the only one of that character active. So I just went ahead and did it, thinking it was nbd. I was Wrong. Within not-very-long, the girl and her friends began to employ every trick, tactic and scheme they could to bully me into abandoning, including but not limited to: forcing new RPers to choose between them and me, freezing out anyone who was seen to interact with me, stealing my content, stealing my friends’ muses(! yeah, the whole thing), copying my backstory and ships wherever ridiculing them didn’t work, incorporating my work into their muses in the same way, copying my art (one of them was an art student and I am a very bad beginner - she would take my drawings and redo them with a higher level of skill and collect the praise for it), sending spies to pretend to be my friend so they could try to trick me into insulting them so they could get caps, lying about me (one of them spread the rumour that I was some kind of sex obsessed pervert - LMAO AMARITE?!), making PSA posts about how I’m not entitled to be part of the fandom, and blaming me for their personal issues (e.g. a historically kind and well mannered user who had been absent for months made a callout post and @’d them all, explaining that he couldn’t be there anymore because they had bullied him and made fun of his abusive history - this was somehow my fault. One of them said I put him up to it because I was jealous of her(?) and they actually responded to him by saying “sorry your daddy touched you” and making jokes about how they’d never be friends with someone as low as him). Eventually, even though me and my main ship partner had a shitload of non-RPer fans for the work we were doing and our partnership was very popular, neither of us could even log in anymore. Every time we spoke or moved, some stupid plan was enacted to make sure it backfired on us. We were replicated and our muses turned into pandering caricatures of what they originally were until we left. My muse was a real point of pride for me, she was the best example of a strong, confident female lead I had ever written, and she was made into a sex crazed goth domme by the very people who accused me of that and declared it abhorrent. Hedge’s was turned from a complicated, fiercely proud, genderfluid(?) killer to a fragile little flower with a dick in a dress. It wasn’t just us, by the way. Every good writer who joined the fandom is gone. They were all gone shortly after I arrived. I tracked some down and asked why, and they all told the same story, one of them said it was cyclical and now that I’m gone, they’ll choose someone else in my place. Meanwhile - here’s the kicker - the group responsible don’t even fucking write.The only time they do is when they’re using it as a weapon against somebody, by stealing their plot or their ship and acting it out themselves. Now that the writers have embarked on a mass exodus and none have appeared to take our places, all they do is shitpost because there’s no one left to target. The stolen muses’ blogs are dead. In between all this, as if this wasn’t enough of a problem, three of them have a penchant for little girls. 

Where are you going with this, Charlie? Well, chums, first of all, it goes a little way to explaining my aversion to smut. It explains why I bang on about welcoming other Seifers so much, why I’m so strict on drama now, and why I’ll bite the head off of anyone who claims to be the sole granter of permission to make a certain muse. I instantly block anyone who overdramatises things to make them sound more dramariffic than they are, no discussion, no exceptions. I am extremely wary of anyone with defensive rules, or people who post unprompted PSAs about ~being nice to duplicates~ because in my experience so far, it’s the shady people who do that - they have something to cover up. I handled it pretty badly at the time, because I didn’t want to make things worse so I let myself get steamrollered. If it happened again now, I wouldn’t mind losing every follower I have as a result of telling them to shove it up their festering assholes. ANYWAY I’m telling you all this because my search for a replacement muse has gone cold, and that’s left me feeling a bit dead and uninspired, which leads me to keep losing my flow with Seifer as well. Lately, I’ve had a lot of casual-sleazy smut crossing my dash from sources I don’t follow, and it sorta brings back bad memories. SO I went onto V//elka’s blog with the idea of reclaiming it somehow, because it feels like she’s in a locked room full of dangerous weirdos and I can’t get her out unless I extract her completely. Here’s where the request comes in.  I really want to bring her away from all that and keep her somehow. I wiped away all the content that was bothering me, changed her url, and I might change her theme too, I’m not sure. Her block list is 200 users long because I blocked fucking everyone from that fandom who was on my follower list to ensure a totally clean break. I’ve added in sketched out FFVIII and FFX verses, removed her source ones and put a request-only line on them to deter anyone who joins that fandom in future. I think the only person I’ll write V in her normal, original verse with is Mirna at the minute (she came from this hellhole as well). If I finish giving her a facelift, will I be able to engage the services of my good friends and neighbours here to help me draw her out of that environment? You don’t have to commit to anything, just treat her like any OC. Even if it doesn’t work and I can’t revive her, at least I’ll have tried. If it doesn’t fail and I do manage to scrape back some focus, the blog hopping will cease, lmao.  If anyone feels like doing me a solid. That’d be great. Cos honestly, that whole experience tainted RP as a whole for me and I’ve never really been as into it since.