#it's so shitty. I hate playing with people I don't know

[seventeendeer]

it's easy to get emotionally invested in the main plot and characters of Deltarune, but I think one of those quiet little side stories that have fucked me up the most is what happened to Ramb. or didn't happen, I guess

like ... it's such a major theme of both Deltarune and Undertale that everyone has someone who would miss them if they were gone. no one is expendable, no matter how "unimportant" they seem from your perspective. it's one of the first major genre subversions that Undertale explicitly spells out for you

a major twist at the end of Undertale is that even Flowey has the capacity to miss someone who is gone. everyone is connected in some way, no one is truly alone. Deltarune elaborates on this theme; Susie is ostracized in the beginning, but Noelle always wanted to be closer with her, Toriel divorced Asgore, but she still prays for him, Carol is feared by those closest to her, but the town she runs appreciates her efforts, King is a tyrant, but Lancer still loves his dad despite everything, many people in Cyber World are afraid of Queen, but the Swatchlings are devoted to her, Jevil was close with Seam once. if the player allows it, even Tenna, defined by his loneliness and obsolescence, can go on to be exactly what someone else (Mettaton) needs. Tenna himself seems to miss Spamton on some level, who is otherwise widely hated.

but not one character is shown to care about Ramb, and when he "dies", a random colleague shrugs it off and says no one will miss him. and not because he was uniquely evil or anything, he was just kind of annoying and no one around him found a reason to look past it. Tenna's a shitty boss who actively abuses the power he holds over his world to make others' lives miserable, but he's also tragic and fun and charismatic, so those around him warm up to him despite his problems. when the Knight cuts him up, depending on circumstance, there will be people around him to fix him up again, or at least to mourn him.

this even extends to a meta level. Tenna's character is fully explored and his popularity with fans is through the roof. Ramb is a blip on the fandom's radar by comparison. we just don't get to know him that well, and he's just not that engaging. he's just some guy, friendly enough to us, but with much subtler characterization than most of the quirky personalities in this game. Tenna is loved in part because he has a huge, ugly, violent meltdown; it makes him exciting! relatable! Ramb never seems to directly hurt anybody. no doubt if he actually had been chapter 3's secret boss, as was hinted he might be before that pattern was subverted, he would have been more popular. but he wasn't the secret boss. really, there's no solid evidence he ever wanted anything except to help Kris in the only way he knew how.

I wonder if Kris cared about him. I want to say "of course they did" because he's an old item they used to love playing with come to life, but there are hints that Kris has a complicated relationship to the Darkners in general, so I actually don't want to say for sure. the player is compelled to care about Ramb at least a little because he's friendly to us and ultimately enables us, but we are not Kris, and the path Ramb enables the player to take is clearly emotionally distressing to Kris.

idk. there's just something about someone dying unloved and unmissed. not because they "deserve" it, but mostly out of happenstance. he didn't meet the right people for him. he was kind of aggravating and nothing about him was interesting or charming enough for anyone to want to look past it. after he's gone, the only person who takes note of his passing takes time out of their day to figuratively spit on his grave. in a story that is so warm and so full of love, where everyone is so connected, he just kind of ... slipped through the cracks

[3ammicrosleeps]

I'd say because this blog has put down some pretty hardline stances, and it's one of the four things I expect from this blog, along with peepswine, ff mmo things, and dice. On one hand yeah. it's all true, this particular trans would very much like if jk rowlinged off into the sun and we never had to deal with this shit again, and i'm tired of terfs using the aspect of complicated or problematic media as an excuse to give a shitty person a pass. On the other hand it is real hard to currently erase the ghost of magical British boarding school from the genre, much in the way that eldritch horror *has* to deal with the garbage legacy of lovecraft or steampunk keeps trying, but can't fully escape the grime of Victoriana.

(oh look a bunch of pasty assholes with problematic pasts that tumblr keeps having a complicated relationship with i wonder if that means anythi-)

The better question, i feel, is to ask what the setting and characters gave people so that it makes it easier for people to start tearing down the edifice and build something better. Yes, we know about the rampant racism, sexism, body-shaming, practically-everything-ism, shit romances, shit-ASS-worldbuilding, copaganda and hypocritical fascist bootlicking. it's the media franchise that's launched a thousand essays. So what is it that people loved, besides nostalgia. For me it was because i felt this Worst Witch remake had a hell of a budget but lacked Tim Curry, and i wanted Evil House to turn out to have more depth than it ultimately ever had. I liked the clash of the old and new, and the possibility of ancient magics trying to survive in a modern age. I liked that there was an entire community of weirdos who somehow managed to make things work. I liked how the magic felt in the same pedigree as math magic, where theoretically if you calculus'd hard enough you could summon a dragon. That? is all salvageable, and you don't need some shitty terf who doesn't know proper latin to sign off on it.

The problem is that it'll still be compared to harry potter. and everyone writing this knows it. Doesn't mean it shouldn't be done anyway, but the very writing of it sends very specific flags that invite confrontation with an equally loud and hateful segment of the population, and i can see why people wanting to engage in brain-soothing comfort don't want that.

Like. ultimately I'm going to groan, but put up with it when my busted-up, half-bedbound mom watches harry potter movies on the service that she spends the same amount on each month, hp-watched shows or not. I'll also keep updating her on each new act of bullshit that rowling has done and how it's affecting people. This is her Problematic Thing that she wants to watch with her brain off. People will always have a Shitty Thing That They Consume With Their Brain Off. I'm pretty sure that if i went into a deep dive of all the ff media i'd find enough to turn me off the franchise forever (like someone I knew had issues with Quina because it reminded them too much of how Japanese people stereotyped Chinese people in media, and that's been a splinter that i should look into), but hey, sometimes you want to turn your brain off and play mahjong against a naked man with glasses. At some point I know I need to put the series in perspective, but I also know that flagellating myself isn't doing anything to help any potentially affected communities, actually doing shit to help, will.

But to anon, only you can absolve you of internalized blame. People will have opinions, regardless of what you do or not do. If you're okay with that, then you already have your answer. If you're not okay with that, why are you either a) so afraid of what other trans people feel (if you're trans), or b) feel that internalized guilt will help our community more than joining us in communal efforts?

Genuine question: I have the whole HP book series in a neat little box set that I received as a gift before everything about JK Rowling came to light. I've made a vow to never purchase/rent the movies again and to never buy any new memorabilia. Is it...okay if I still want to re-read the books? They were a big part of my childhood, but I feel guilty for wanting to partake in them again. I feel like I need someone to steer me straight on this, and I'm asking on Anon in case any of your other followers might feel the same way. Sorry if this ask too heavy or requires nuance, thanks for your time ♥

I mean this as gently and kindly as I possibly can, but it feels like you're looking for a moral authority to grant you absolution for engaging with a problematic intellectual property, and I don't have the power to do that. On the one hand, I don't think silently and solitarily rereading books you already own is doing material harm to trans people, but why do it if it's going to make you feel guilty about it the whole time? At the end of the day it's up to you to decide where this fits in your own moral framework.

[iwritenarrativesandstuff]

I bring a sort of "flawed female characters can be fun and enjoyable blorbos - both flawed in terms of having character flaws and in terms of having occasionally flawed writing" that it appears many, many, many people do not like

[omgcatboi]

I don't often post my non kink related art but I'm tryna get the attention of someone else in the community and am too shy and cringe to reach out so. Here, have this portrait I did of Hanzo Shimada. With my finger. On ibis paint. This took me four hours. Progress for proof below.

[autumnrory]

i've been going into the liam tag from time to time the last year where both his fans and people who hated him were Weird about him well before there were any allegations so i would get curious, i don't even remember what started it (maybe it was merely looking for photos that update accounts wouldn't post), but i normally try to avoid going into anything but edit tags for people i enjoy bc there are so many nonsense takes

and of course happening to go through today before the news broke bc i wanted to see what was being said about the abuse as i've only gotten bits on twitter and of course there were many posts rightfully calling it out and all but there's that weird mentality which i was getting a lot more of from twitter but some on here where they're like??? celebrating it and girlboss-ing and i'm just like. okay it's great that you're believing a victim but you're making light of it by talking about it like it's just another stan thing, i have seen that time and time again when this kind of stuff comes out and if people already thought that person was annoying or whatever they're just like "oh yes! i knew it! their career is ruined haha!" and it's like. you clearly don't actually care about the horrible things this person has done and just want to brag that you somehow ~knew~ a stranger's vibes were off and it's so beyond gross like you could use that energy to support a person's victims and instead you'll just try to prove you stan the right people and never the wrong ones or whatever

[blackeyed-daisy]

why is it that the people who claim to be the best at communication are always the most god awful fucking worst at it. there's been so many times where I've talked to a "good communicator" who just straight up fucking lies to me about how they feel or who interprets the completely wrong thing from what I said and insists their interpretation must be correct and I must be lying or who otherwise is just never actually explicit about anything they say and keeps playing fucking games in every conversation and makes it your problem when you can't play along

I've never met someone who claims they're good at communication who's actually good at it

[kekewrites]

Tw. Insecure/bratty/tsundere reader, dark content, noncon, dubcon, obsession, sloppy blowjob, attempted breakup, manipulation, size kink, overstimulation, multiple creampies, cunnilingus, baby trapping, coercion, aftercare

***

Thinking about dating an angelic guy.

You always wonder why, out of all the pretty and influential girls chasing after him, he chose you. It doesn't help how of a unit he is. Your typical perfect guy, popular, rich, and body that's comparable to a Greek God... and his voice— how you love his gentle and warm voice, there's just something about it that hypnotize you.

He always compliments you, shower you with affection, and be an absolute sweetheart. It gets you pissy. You don't know why you're always in a foul mood around him, he's not even doing anything that could trigger you. He takes a breath and you're already fuming. Grumbling profanities that he would laugh at wholeheartedly, like you didn't curse his entire being.

You hate how perfect he is. Hate how much you adore him. Hate how much you love him, and inside your mind you always question if he genuinely loves you. Maybe he's just playing with you? Waiting for the day he'd humiliate you, telling how you're too idiotic to even believe someone like him could ever love you.

That's probably why you're always cautious around him, you don't believe him enough to love an average girl like you.

***

He can't believe he's dating the cutest in the world. Everytime you scowl, show that adorable pout, he just wants to squish your cheeks together and kiss you plenty. Like a little kitty hissing when you sneer curses at him.

It's adorable really.

You'd say you didn't want to go to the movies he chose. Yet, you arrived earlier than expected, wearing a hint of makeup in that cute dress of yours. Makes him want to crush you. You put in the effort, took the time, even gave him the watch he'd been talking about—his favorite.

He really loves you. Really really loves you but why are you acting like he doesn't? He's confused. Hasn't he done enough to show you, tell how much he adores you? It makes him sad. Don't you know how much he's holding back? There's only so much he could take, you know. He could just take you everytime you run that cute foul mouth of you, shove his cock to make you shut up. But he's so patient with you because he loves you.

So don't push him too much, ok? Or else you might not like it when he finally show you his desire.

***

"You're late," you grumble, sending him a glare. Your arms are crossed, and your foot taps impatiently on the ground.

He chuckles, a soft, knowing smile playing on his lips. "I arrived just on time, sweetie," he says, stepping closer. "You're just too excited for our date, no?" His voice is teasing, but his eyes are warm, sparkling with affection.

You huff in response, but you can feel the corners of your mouth betraying you, tugging into a smile. He notices and takes your hand, his thumb brushing lightly over your knuckles.

"You're just so cute, you know? I really wanna crush— ow!" He hiss slightly as you swat his arm. He pouts a little, "You're strong, you're gonna leave a bruise."

You roll your eyes— as if that's gonna happen. Huffing you tug on his hand, "Let's go. I'm starving."

He smiles, looking at your back, "Ok, sweetie~."

Ah, you really are so cute.

He can't wait to fuck you.

***

"Why're you not eating, sweetie? Is the food not to your liking?"

Your appetite was gone the moment that waitress flirted with him, leaving you empty and bitter. This always happen. You're sick of it, sick of being jealous and feeling shitty for not looking like his girlfriend. Are you really worthless by his side? Do people not see you as his companion?

"Sweetie?"

You didn't want to lash out on him so you remained silent. Too bitter to talk. Even the food turned bitter, leaving you more upset.

He's such an idiot. But you're more of an idiot for being triggered by that stupid waitress, too much of a wuss to tell her he's taken, that he's yours. You're the idiot.

"I don't wanna eat anymore," you bitterly muttered, your face covered by the shadows of your hair, hiding that frown you wore he always seems to love on you.

He gets a sick twisted feeling in his guts, watching how jealous you get whenever some worthless wench tries to get his attention. It satisfies his urge, his sick thoughts hidden by his angelic face. You really love him, don't you? His lips curving into a sweet smile, eyes twinkling with desires. If only you know how much he gets off with you being jealous, you'd never doubted your pretty little self.

So… why are you saying such stupid things?

“Let’s break up.”

“Hm?”

“I said…” You take a breath, steadying your voice. “Let’s break up.”

For a moment, his smile wavers. Just a fraction. His right eye twitches ever so slightly, a crack in the carefully crafted mask he wears. But then, like a master of illusions, he recovers, his sweet facade sliding back into place, though something darker lingers beneath the surface.

“Now, now,” he says, his voice dripping with a saccharine softness that makes the hairs on your neck stand on end. “What’s the matter?” His tone is gentle, almost soothing, but there’s a sharp edge to it—a venomous undercurrent that cuts through the air.

You don’t answer immediately, your chest tightening under his unblinking stare. It’s as if he’s waiting, watching every little twitch of your expression, trying to peel you apart without lifting a finger.

“I just think…” you start, your voice faltering as his head tilts slightly, his smile remaining unnervingly intact. “I-I think we’re not… good for each other anymore.”

His smile widens, but it doesn’t reach his eyes. Instead, his gaze sharpens, a predator sizing up its prey. He takes a step closer, the air between you growing heavy. “Not good for each other?” he repeats, feigning confusion. “Sweetheart, where’s this nonsense coming from? Didn’t we promise forever?”

The sweetness in his tone sends a chill down your spine, but you hold your ground. “Forever shouldn’t feel like this,” you say, trying to steady your trembling hands.

It shouldn't make you feel bad about yourself, shouldn't make you anxious, shouldn't make feel... pressured.

For a moment, he says nothing, his eyes boring into yours. Then, his chuckle breaks the tension, soft and low. “Ah, I see,” he murmurs, leaning in just enough for you to feel the weight of his presence. “You’re upset. That’s all. We’ll talk this through, won’t we?”

But his words aren’t a question—they’re a command, wrapped in the guise of concern. And as his smile lingers, you realize leaving might not be as simple as you hoped.

***

Why is this happening?

You thought he would accept and move on.

"Mmm, that's it sweetie. Take it deeper." He coaxes, his grip on your hair tightening. He starts to push forward, forcing more of his thick length past your stretched lips.

So why?

Your eyes squeeze shut tighter as he pushes in deeper, your throat convulsing around his invading cock. He throws his head back with a guttural moan.

"That's a good girl. Mhm, your throat feels so good wrapped around my dick." He grunts, starting to set a steady pace. Fucking into your mouth, using your face like a cock sleeve.

It was gross. He never did that to you.

Lewd, wet sounds fill the office as he picks up speed, his heavy balls slapping against your chin with each rough thrust. Drool escapes the seal of your lips, dripping down your chin and onto your messed up clothes.

He looks down, taking in the debauched sight of you on your knees, choking on his cock. His dick is spit-shined and glistening, streaked with their drool. Shit. The sight makes him thrust harder, faster, chasing his pleasure.

"Look at me," He demands breathlessly, wanting to see the tears and desperation in their eyes as he uses their mouth ruthlessly. He's close, so fucking close already from the intense, vice-like grip of your inexperienced throat. He grunts and curses, slamming forward one last time before pulling out abruptly.

Thick ropes of cum paint your face and hair, marking you as his. Some of it even lands in your eyes, making them sting and water.

"You're so pretty... You look so pretty covered in my cum," he whispers lovingly, smearing the head of his cock across your messy face, pushing the hot seed into their skin like makeup. "The prettiest girl in the world."

You were supposed to break up with him...

How did it escalated to this?

***

It's not like he's losing a lot... you aren't that special. So why is he acting this way? There are a lot of better options for him, prettier, smarter, and richer girls. Someone who can actually match him, who doesn't embarrass him, worthier to stand beside him.

Why is he fucking you like his life depends on it?

Your eyes already hazy and unfocused, breathing hard as you couldn't count how many times you've already come.

One of his hands snakes up your trembling body, finding a soft breast. He squeezes the supple mound roughly, fingers sinking into the pliant flesh as he kneads and gropes. He finds a pert nipple and pinches it cruelly between his thumb and forefinger, rolling and tugging until it stands stiff and aching in the cool air of the room.

"Hm? Are you already tired? We're just starting," he coo, his hips slamming forward with renewed vigor. He leans down, his mouth finding your neck, sharp teeth sinking into the tender skin. He bites and sucks, determined to leave his mark on you, to claim you as his own. His. He can feel his orgasm building, his heavy balls tightening as he ruts into your abused cunt. The wet, obscene sounds of your coupling fill the room, punctuated by the creaking of the bed and your cries. He's close, so fucking close to filling your cunt with his seed.

"Gonna... hngh... fill this pussy..." He grunts between clenched teeth, slamming home one last time. His cock throbs and pulses as he starts to come, thick ropes of hot cum painting your inner walls. He grinds against them, making sure they take every last drop as he marks your womb with his essence.

Finally, with a last shuddering groan, he collapses on top of you, his softening cock still buried deep inside your tender, cream-filled pussy. He pants harshly against the shell of their ear, his hands still groping and fondling your sensitive body.

"Y-You're an idiot..." You sniffle, "Why me? There's a lot of—."

He cuts you off, "You know, I would never cheat on you, right?" He whispers tenderly, kissing your ears as if assuring. "No matter who comes to me, I would never pay attention to them. Never. You're the only one I want." His other hand comes up to grip your chin, forcing you to meet his intense, burning gaze.

It was the first time you ever heard his voice to be so... vulnerable.

"The only girl I want... So..." You can hear his voice shake, "Don't break up with me, ok?"

Your eyes glaze with tears, your heart tugging at his words. No, it wasn't supposed to end up like this. You made up your mind a few weeks ago, always nagging at the back of your mind. Ending your relationship would be the best for you two—.

He kisses you then, any doubts in your mind disappearing as his mouth claiming theirs in a brutal, dominating kiss. His tongue pushes past your lips, plundering the warm cavern as he grinds his hips forward, rubbing his throbbing erection against your thigh.

Ah, you don't care anymore.

"Don't think anymore, ok? Just let me do it for you."

He starts to rub the broad head of his cock along your slit, coating himself in your combined juices. "Tell you what, sweetheart. I'll be gentle like the usual... for now." He promises darkly, his voice rough with restrained lust. "I'll make this first part nice and slow, nice and easy for you."

"H-Huh?"

With that, he starts to push forward, the thick length of his cock slowly sinking into your tight, clutching heat. He has to fight the urge to slam forward, to bury himself to the hilt in one brutal thrust. But he resists, forcing himself to go slowly, to savor the exquisite feeling of your walls stretching around him.

"Ah, you're still so tight." He grits out through clenched teeth, his fingers flexing against your hips as he fights for control. "Such a perfect cunt."

"Too soon! I'm still... s-sensitive!" You cried out but he starts to move then, his hips rocking in a slow, sensual rhythm as he fucks into you with deep, deliberate strokes. Each thrust pushes him a little deeper, a little harder, until he's finally buried to the hilt inside you. He pauses for a moment, letting you feel the heavy weight of him, the way he's stretching you impossibly full.

"Hehe, sorry can't help it. Does that feel gentle enough for you, sweetie?" He asks, a small smirk playing at the corners of his mouth, yet his angelic face covers it. "Or do you need me to be even more... careful?" He punctuates the word with a sharp thrust of his hips, grinding his pelvis against your clit.

Your brain short circuit by the overstimulation, all you could think about was him, and his big cock, "A-Ah, you— ish... so good~!"

He snarls in feral pleasure as he feels your pussy clench and ripple around his pistoning cock. The way you are moaning and crying out, begging him not to stop... it's the headiest fucking thing he's ever heard. It makes him want to ruin you, to fuck you so hard and so deep that you'll never forget the feeling of his cock splitting you open.

You came in surprise, your eyes rolling in the back of your head, chest heaving, "C-Can't too much..!"

"You can do it," He growls, his voice a dark, distorted rumble. He can feel his own release building, his balls drawing up tight as he fucks into you with wild abandon, "A-ah~ clench this greedy cunt around my dick, dollface. Milk it for all it's worth.

You never saw this side of him before, a more vulgar side to him. Spouting dirty words that's the opposite of his facade. Maybe, you didn't know your boyfriend that well? He was always gentleman to you in bed, always going with your pace and being mindful about his words but now...

"N-No~ I really ah! Can't!" You shake your head frantically, having enough of the sensitivity.

"Yes, you can! You will, sweetie~!"

He buries his face in the crook of her neck, biting and sucking at the sensitive skin as he chases his pleasure. He wants to mark you, to leave his claim all over your body for everyone to see. He wants the whole world to know that you belong to him, that you're his to fuck and fill and love as he sees fit. The thought of another man putting his hand on you makes him mad, you're only his and he isn't afraid to take that way for you to be officially his.

"I'm gonna cum, sweetie." He grits out, his hips slamming forward with sharp, brutal thrusts. "I'm gonna pump this tight little pussy full of my seed, gonna breed this fucking cunt until it's dripping with my cum."

Breed?

He reaches down, his fingers finding your clit and rubbing mercilessly at the sensitive bundle of nerves. "I want to feel you cum on my cock, sweetheart. I want to feel you shake and quake as I fill you with my my child."

Wait...!

His other hand slides up, wrapping around your throat and squeezing lightly. It's enough to make you gasp for air, pulse jumping wildly beneath his touch. It's enough to make you even tighter, body instinctively clenching down around him as he fucks into you with short, vicious thrusts.

Too much!

"Now, sweetie~ cum. Now." He commands, his voice a dark and sinful. And with a final, brutal thrust, he buries himself balls deep inside her and starts to cum. His cock jerks and pulses as he paints your insides with thick ropes of his hot seed, filling you up just like he promised.

So full...

You gasp out, your skin flushed and damp with sweat. The room spins around you, his weight pressing you down into the mattress as you struggle to catch your breath. Body aches all over, especially between your legs. The feeling of his cum painting your insides is strange, unsettling.

Your vision having black spots, your consciousness fading as you hear him murmur promises to you.

"I'll take responsibility whether we have a child or not, we'll get married and have a cute child."

You feel a warm kiss on your forehead.

"I love you. I love you more than anyone else, I only love you."

[brainbesplit]

what do i call the "golem" minecraft mobs? (plus rambles in tags)

from what i understand the golems in minecraft shouldn't be called golems because notch (formally known as bitch, asshat, fuckface and shit nugget) is extremely antisemetic and designed the villagers and most subsequent villager/illagers after antisemetic charicatures (large noses, monobrows, money-hungry [at least in earlier versions]} so what do i call them instead. like snow golems are just snowmen but like what about the iron one. what about the copper one. what about the tuff one. i dont like just calling them constructs i need a different word. i mean the iron ones can be constructs probablt but are the copper ones just robots?? are the tuff ones statues/sculptures??

[d0litte]

SWEET PRISONER. dark!Caitlyn kiramman x f!reader

tw ; G!PCaitlyn cause girls can have dicks to force deep down your throat. Rape/noncon, you make it clear that you don't want to but she fucks you anyways, reader trapped, kidnapping, manipulation, stockholm syndrome, swallowing cum from caitlyn's mouth/ spit wc; 2.8k

Footsteps echo in the silent prison, the noise of the cell keys banging furiously trying to open the large, tightly locked door does not go unnoticed; being one of the only things you hear in weeks—possibly months.

Caitlyn enters as a confident, menacing presence—it's a sight you've been seeing more often. eyebrows furrowed visibly; eyes hard and sharp. makes you unconsciously jerk; the chains tightly clasped around your wrists jingle, giving you a reminder that you've already used up all the length of them you had to get around.

You don't remember the last time you spoke to someone other than her; she makes sure you don't.

you shiver when your body is brutally forced to stop by the handcuffs , it hurts— it's your fault, really. you don't know why you even thought about the possibility of you being able to escape, maybe you had a chance to escape when she still let you walk around like a normal human. No handcuffs and nothing, when she let you have your opinion on some things. no matter how small they were. they were still something

“You’re awake,” she murmurs under her breath; raspy and husky voice, she moves towards you who is crouched in the corner of the cell. she raises an eyebrow shyly when you don't dare to look at her and that makes you shrink internally, her eyes scan your body, pupillating dilating while she not-so-subtly—not that she ever thought of being, examines you completely.

“I thought I told one of the enforcers to bring you some panties?” She pondered shameless, more of an answer than a question and oh, how funny she is. acting like you could use more than that as if she didn't soak disgustingly every single pair of panties she gave you with her cum.

You control yourself from scoffing when she runs her fingertips along your rib cage with familiarity, rubbing her thumb over the unblemished skin that is now full of bruises adorning your skin

Caitlyn makes a sound of mock-pity in the back of her throat not even making the effort to look at you. not when she has more important things to take care of “is it too much for you?” she scoffs harshly, her hands slipping between your legs, forcing your thighs open for her, fingers digging into the soft skin of your inner thigh when you don't relax and open up automatically, how you hate her. you hate how she just comes and takes what she wants from you without even caring if you want it, like her doll to use.

Her fingers slip painfully slowly to your pussy, fingers scratching the skin of your stomach in the way. digits rubbing your entrance, you tremble and try to close your thighs, only to receive a firm even painful grip “I've had a really shitty day,” she mutters harshly, “do it the fucking easy way today” The words come out naturally, demanding and without a hint of distress; You frown and continue to force your thighs closed, you don't want this— and Caitlyn seems to notice. of course she notices, Her eyes narrow sharply and her free hand tugs at your chained wrist to pull you closer to her.

Tears prick the corners of your eyes as you blink hard to try to avoid her cold, scolding gaze. Like you're a petulant child throwing a tantrum and not a woman who's tied up for god knows how many days in a cell.

“Are you playing deaf?” Her eyes scan your face, fingers reaching up to firmly grip your chin “Don't make me force myself in there” Her threat is practically spat out in disgust. she hold your jaw in a painful grip, forcing your face to look at her. her day was shit one at the council today. stupid people, paperwork to sign, her head starts to throb just thinking about you opening your mouth to do something other than suck or choke on her fingers.

She squeezes your thigh painfully, forcing you to spread your thighs. her face forming into a visible frown when you hesitate, fingers coming up to cup your cheek, fingers clad in shooting glove, the fabric scratches the soft skin of your cheek gently, her eyes scan your face. she clicks her tongue, mocking you.

her hand is formed in a smooth arc and she strikes you hard across your cheek with her hand, the blow ringing in your ear and the taste of blood in your mouth.

she scoffs softly in the back of her throat and grabs your chin again “I don't like doing it you know.” She coos as she feels tears streaming down your cheeks, poor sensitive thing. her lips press against your flushed cheek. voice like honey— falsely sweet. “No need to cry” she muttered softly but you still can feel the condescension in her voice, cause she rarely has any regrets.

Her hand moves away from your cheek, leaving it inconveniently cold, the fingers slide down again moving to the top of your thigh, drumming her fingers on the skin.

your thighs slowly open(begrudgingly) eliciting a positive hum from her throat. she presses herself against you, the front of her pants pressing against your groin, the fabric rubbing against the sensitive skin, burning in the worst possible way.

her hand slips to your pussy now, gaze going down and eyebrow arching curiously when she sees and feels her glove wet, a cruel giggle echoes as if she finds it funny “Why the tears when you're this wet honey?” she forces two fingers into your tight entrance, insistent fingers when she can't fit two fingers in at once.

“Relax for me”

“Fuck you” you babble, tears still streaming, her shallow display of affection did nothing to calm you. She rolls her eyes out of your line of sight and nuzzles into your throat, breath warming on your skin “Stop being so dramatic like a baby. you can handle more than two fingers. Much more.” She whispers, voice muffled.

Her fingers force their way in, fingers abusing your hole, Your eyes squeeze tightly close as more tears that you don't even notice run down your cheeks. When she can't slid her fingers inside, she pulls her wet fingers away and places them on the front of her pants. She smirk against your neck, her mouth sucking a bruise next to an old one that she made a long time ago

Her slim, thin fingers run over her jeans. a soft sigh leaving her lips, fingers fumbling with the buttons “fuck..” her lips purse into a frown, her fingers open the button of her pants, breathing heavily, she opens her pants, the bulge already appearing in her underwear, tense and frustrating desire. she's been having to put up with fucking zaulnites and slum dwellers for so long, she just needs this.

She sighs, hands gripping her cock behind the damp fabric. is practically transparent now, her tip leaking pre-cum, her hand goes through her waistband and pulls her cock out. The cock jumping out of her underwear, The veins throb with pent-up lust, the tip drools, she runs her thumb over her tip, a sigh leaving her lips. your breathing quickens in a moment when you see it, it's disgusting. you hesitate and sneak off, standing against the old wall

She stops for a second when she feel your movements— or the lack of your cooperation. jaw clenching and eyebrow furrowing, she's mad, she definitely is. she slowly raises her head, looking at you, cold eyes and pupils dilating incessantly, she approaches you and rubs the tip against your entrance, pushing deep, she's forcing it in “Oh poor thing,” she begins, voice still incredibly gentle, and you feel the frustration boiling over “You need to relax, what have I told you about that.” she scolds harshly, gloved fingers coming up to rub your sensitive clit, trying to relax your walls.

You squirm, legs twitching furiously as you feel her tearing you in half, she grabs your waist and slid over your body “no, no, no— leave me” you panic only to have a gloved hand grabbing your mouth and muffling your voice, she leans down to tower over you when you squirm trying to get away from her grip, the veins in her neck throb visibly and she grips you painfully “Stop fucking moving, yeah?” she hissed through her teeth, you could visibly hear the bad mood in her voice. She grabs your arm and presses her hips closer to yours, the pain is agonizing, her cock is so thick. she held you down with her bodyweight as you'd wriggle in attempts to get her off— you're so innocent, you don't even know that turns her on even further.

She can't get over it as you keep trying to get away from her whenever she comes here, as if you didn't want to accept that there was no future for you anymore. You are so stubborn that you make her want to break you again and again

“You're lucky you're so wet” she hums when see more tears flowing and your frowning expression, Her length finally sinks into your tight walls, practically doesn't fit, you're still so tight. the expression of discontent in her face soft as she lets out a sigh at the sight of your face and the tears streaming down

Her head rests on your throat and she finally slides her entire length in, breathing hot and panting. the feeling of her filling you up makes you gasp, your walls stretching to receive her like you always do, her hips move with familiarity. her pelvis slamming against yours, your throat burns as you try to fight back just a little— which is all in vain because her grip on you not soft an inch. Your body shudders with each thrust, her nails dig into your hips. “Just like that.” She sighs when your warmth embraces her length “I missed this pussy” She breathed, rubbing her cheek against your shoulder. which is met with you pulling away from her touch "Don't be so rude to me." She scoffs and sinks in again. teeth nibbling on your neck to emphasize her point, You can feel her in your cervix,

Your body shudders when she speeds up her movements, she takes the entire length of her out and leaves only the tip inside, then slams her dick all the way in. to make sure you feel her stretching you so well, her thrusts into you harder, cock sliding in and out of your pussy with a wet, slick sound. You can feel the muscles in her thighs as she moves, the sound of her breath heavy in the room. You can feel her heartbeat pounding in her chest, body warming up yours as over time

her thrusts become more sloppy and in confusing rhythms, she breathes heavily, soft whimpers are heard as she sinks into your wall. hitting that spongy place inside you that makes you gasp—you don't want to admit it feels good because you hate her, you really do. but you can't lie not when she sees how wet you are.

Her hips move for a few more seconds before sinking as deep inside you as possible. She really does look pathetic sometimes. Sweat dripping, Her mouth hanging open and her body wilting on top of yours, As she fills you with her seed. Her fingers loosen their grip and move to the front of your pussy, Fingering your wet pussy, begging for attention. Something she won't do because she only cares about herself.

She pulls her cock out. Her cum almost spurts out before she sticks two fingers inside. The feeling of her gloved hand inside you makes you squirm as her fingers twist to pull the cum out of you.

Her fingers twist and she pulls a finger smeared with her cum out. And before you know it, she's licking her fingers. A smile spreads across her face as if that doesn't disgust you, She sighs and leaves her fingers clean with nothing on them, Then she brings her hand to your mouth and touches your bottom lip, ordering you to open it. You refuse to do so she digs her fingernail into your lip. Forcing you to open your mouth, which you must do. she smiles and spits into your mouth. The sensation burns your throat with the taste of her cum mixed with her saliva. "Swallow,” “You can't waste it" she teases and rubs your lips as you swallow hard.

“Good girl”

[whore-ibly-hot]

Just a quick little thing to tide you all over.

Thinking about...

Bill, he hates fem!reader being a part of the group, but he can't help from bringing it up when he's getting picked on at school. Bringing up he's got a hot piece of ass in the club, so how could they be dorks! There's a chick in HIS club.

"You're not a fucking member, I said that because that jock-douche wouldn't leave me alone. Even if you were, you don't know shit about what we do here." He complains. "I-I mean, honestly, do you even own a single comic, mint condition? Do you sleeve and grade them yourself? Didn't think so. You're a glorified class pet, consider yourself lucky I let you bum around here." He sneers.

His tune quickly changes when he's at the comic book shop, pushing some kids and middle aged men aside to get to a new edition of Spider-man. "Hey, kid, watch it!" One of the neckbeards scoffs, adjusting his glasses and pushing Bill's shoulder. Bill whips around, furious. "You watch it! And KID?! Listen here, you limped dick virgin, I'm younger than you, but at least I've spoken to a girl who isn't my mom in the last ten years. Take this-" He shoves the comic at him. "See if I even care, go beat your meat over the fact you got a comic, ill just go back to MY club, surrounded by MY collection, and sit with MY girl!"

After being removed from the store for yet another freak out, he slowly winds down, face a bit flushed as he considers the implications of 'his girl'.

"Hey, Bill, so... since I'm a member of the group now-"

"You're not-"

"I was hoping I could maybe come over and set up for meetings. You know, over here."

This gives him pause, but the idea of you, just you, in his house, setting up for the meeting, all alone. Not showing up for the other guys, showing up for him. Being... his.

"Fine. But be prepared to do some actual work, gotta earn your place here..." Hes pretty sure he's seen a porno start this way.

Yan!Pete, he doesn't have to prove anything to anyone, he's just gonna relish in the fact that the club isn't a sausage fest anymore. He's suddenly able to tune out Bill's screeching way more, focusing on the way you bend down to pick the figures Bill has knocked on the wall in a rage, the way your pants hug your ass. Digging under a shitty couch for a three dollar Megaman figure has never been sexier.

He'll call you. A lot. Telling you about some freaky new flick he's found, or that he's got tickets to some shitty new band playing downtown. It's best to indulge him, he'll only get clingier if you don't respond, calling the home phone line, which always gets awkward with your folks.

"Hey, how's it going, babe?" He calls over the phone. "Whatcha up to?" You respond saying your just laying on your bed, watching some TV. "Cool, cool. Listen, you want any company in that big ass bed of yours? I got some stuff from Block-Buster." He just lets out a huff as you say you can't, but you're happy to talk for a bit. As you complain about bill, it's best to ignore his his breathing grows heavier, and the unending stream of thoughts from his big mouth seem to get suspiciously quiet. Trust me, you finding out what he's doing on the other end will only turn him on more.

"So, yeah- he's just being a total dick. I mean, I don't want to have to feel like I'm 'earning my place' in a group of friends." You sigh into the phone.

"Yeah- well, that's Bill for you." Pete huffs, speaking up for the first time in several minutes. "He's a dickwad, shit..."

"I don't know. Anyways, what did you wanna talk about?"

"Wanna fuckin' cum..." he mumbles, so lowly you can barely hear, and ask him to repeat.

"What?"

"What?"

Jerry, he's thrilled to have a pretty girl around, makes him feel a little more normal. However, he knows the rest of his group isn't, so while they are wrapped up in wanting you too much or fighting the urge to want you, he's wracked with insecurity you'll leave. He knows that he and the others are a shitty bunch of people, and its only a matter of time till you realize it.

He's as sweet as he can be, learning everything he can about you. What are your hobbies, your interests, what do you do when you aren't bumming around with them? Tell him, he'll get into whatever you're into. Just stay. Please. You make him feel sane when everyone is screeching.

"No, no! I totally like that kinda stuff!" He assures you, ignoring the sounds of Josh trying to explain the significance of his recently acquired magic card. "Yeah, um, I mean, I'm still getting into it, so, if you have any advice or, if you wanna teach me about it, that'd be cool!" He struggles between wanting to learn from you, as thay would be MAJOR for him to spend that much time with you, and wanting to already be perfect at whatever you're doing to impress. Wikihow becomes Jerry's best friend, as he works on trying to master you interest. Into crotchet? He hopes his hand dexterity from drawing will carry over. Baking? Ah, well, he'll try his best; even though he's not much of a cook. DnD? Oh, he's gonna cream his pants and have to rush off to the bathroom.

"So, Jerry, do you want to come over? Maybe I can teach you to get better at it."

"Y-yeah! I'd love to, uh, lemme just get my stuff from my place. Love you, bye!"

"What'd you say?" You ask, turning back from your spot on the sidewalk.

"Uh, Leave you! I'm leaving you, now! To go- to go get my stuff." The blonde stammers, rushing off.

Josh, he's a lot like Jerry in that he's afraid you'll get scared off, but he blames Bill and Pete, never hosnown awkwardness and sexism for why you might leave. He's the normal one, just him and Jerry. It's Pete perversions and Bill freakouts that are upsetting you.

He's far to awkward to try and actually talk to you to keep you around, you're a girl. He doesn't want to come on to strong like Pete, at least that's what he tells himself. In truth, he's both skeptical of your intentions in the group and desperate for those intentions to be good. In lieu of talking to you, he spends money on you under the guise of needing to educate you into what the groups about, or quote 'dorkify the babe' as Pete says.

He gives you figures, memorabilia, tapes of movies you want to see, you name it, he'll find a way to get it to you. It's going to piss off Bill, but Josh will only argue he makes donations to the clubs collective items all the time.

"Its a collectors pack, I picked it up from the store. And the book is a game guide for Jerry's next campaign. I'd recommend reading it so you can be caught up." He coughs, rubbing a free hand over his greasy ponytail.

"Thanks Josh, this is really sweet!" You chirp, happily going through the pack of cards

While he flinches at your haning of the cards, he calms himself at the sound of your sweet words. "Yeah, well- just- if you're gonna be a *real* member of our group, you need to know what we know, and I doubt Bill is gonna help you out. He'd rather gloat about what you don't know, he's always pulls that shit with us." Pausing, he glances at you. "But... you can count on me, for-for anything you don't understand. Pete just wants to get in your pants, and he doesn't know fucking anything anyways. And Jerry... he's fine, but i wouldn't say he's an expert like me in anything but wearing silly fairy costumes." He snarks.

'Please, please, please just talk to me about club stuff, ignore them, they're idiots...'

[youryanderedaddy]

Summary: You run into your snobby ex boyfriend after a drunken party. Things go south from there. tw: female reader, hinted murder, possessive behavior, condescension, financial(?) abuse, classism

You know this is a stupid, stupid idea. Going home at God knows what time in the pitch black is never a good idea, you think drowsily, head still spinning from the last beer, but even more so when you're tired, pissed off and tipsy. You're freezing, naked shoulders wet from the chilly midnight rain - but instead of soft damp linden, you smell molden concrete and metal. You fucking hate this city. You hate the stupid, flashy, obnoxious parties for rich people, and this shitty university in the middle of nowhere, and even the scholarship that forced you into close proximity with the freakish upper class of east New Hemptison.

"Baby!" A familiar voice sinks into the muddy darkness and you have to physically restrain yourself from emptying your stomach right there on the street - and knowing your neighbours, you'd have to clean it after too. His steps fasten and soon you feel his hand gripping your shoulder to turn you around. Standing before you, glistening just like some prince from a fairy tale, is everything you despise about this town. The fact that he's perfectly prim and proper despite the pounding rain, that his teeth seem almost pearly white in the dark, that his hair is crisp and slicked away tastefully, that even now he's wearing a fucking Armani shirt with the cheesiest pair of jeans (ones you could never afford) - it makes you want to crawl back to the cave you came from, two continents away, and never look back.

"Baby, where have you been?" He sounds terribly concerned as he pulls your shivering body in for a tight bear hug, running his hands through your absolutely soaked hair - murmuring something incomprehensible to your drunken mind. "I was worried sick, missy." His voice drops slightly, but it's all for show. He's playing the part of the good boyfriend, like always - and you fell for it once, you did, but you know better now. "I called you, like, sixty eight times. And nothing." He swallows, big hands trembling around you. "Just radio silence. I thought something bad happened to y-"

"Oh, f-uucking beat it." Your patience finally snaps and you push him off swiftly, barely contained anger starting to resurface again. Today was supposed to be about you, about healing, about feeling better, but just your luck - the very problem had found you, just like always. No matter where you go, your troubles follow. "You know what you did, asshole. Don't you d-aare play innocent with m-me." You hiss drunkenly, stumbling all over your words before hitting the wall all on your own. Mathew, of course, doesn't waste the oppurtunity to get closer to you - just so he can help you regain your balance, of course. The golden boy of Saint Hemptison would never take advantage of an intoxicated girl - much less his ex girlfriend who he's still hopelessly in love with, supposedly. Right.

"Baby, please, you're drunk - you're not making any sense." The man whispers softly, placing his hand at your hip. "Let's go to the penthouse. We can talk about this in the morning when you are more aware of your thoughts."

When you're more aware of your thoughts? You almost laugh. It's quite bittersweet when it hits you that he doesn't respect you even now - maybe he never has in the duration of your miserable relationshop, that in his eyes you'll always be the poor girl in need of a white knight. Just a little trophy to show off, if a bit broken in certain spots.

"I am not going anywhere with you." You mumble, trying to calm down - to appear cold and collected, the complete opposite of what he wants you to be. "Look, I know that you're mad at me, babygirl, but I'm sure your little temper tantrum can wait until tomorrow. You know I don't like this neighbourhood. Let me take you to a safe place for the night, okay?" He reaches for your hand again, but this time you swat it away in fury.

"Who are you to act so worried about me, huh?" You can hear your voice breaking as the tears prick at your eyes - hot and shameful. Crying in front of him is the last thing you want to do, but god, it's so hard not to when this whole night has been a disaster after a disaster. You're truly at your wits' end. "After what you did? You are truly shameless." You squeal, and admittedly, it feels fucking great to finally say it.

Your former lover's face twists into an unrecognizable grimace as he watches you tear into his heart with ease - and as you turn to leave, he grabs your wrist painfully. This time something is different about his eyes - they're not longer smiling. Now they're two bottomless gray pits devoid of kindness, the same eyes you saw the night of the accident as he caressed your cold cheek with bloody knuckles.

"And what did I do, love? Hm?" He tilts your chin up by squeezing your throat, forcing you to meet his eerie gaze. Suddenly all your tipsy bravado evaporates into thin air. "Please, refresh my memory. I really can't recall the events of the past two weeks - since you've been avoiding me and all..." His fingers dig into your skin and you wince just like a kicked puppy - but he doesn't bulge an inch. Suddenly everything comes flooding back - the touches you convinced yourself were sensual, not possesive, the glances you once thought of as romantic, the constant interrogations, the strange emails, the cryptic calls, the dead roses at your door. "I couldn't sleep - or eat for that matter. I am half a man without you. I lose myself completely."

It all makes sense now. You feel like crying, because it's so crystal clear... and you've been a willing fool. You had closed your eyes, because it was easier to lie than to accept the truth bubbling just under his surface - under the dimples and the smiles, and the hundred jewelry boxes still lying unopened under your bed.

"You - you killed him! You monster!" You gasp, unable to stop your lips from uttering the lethal. You thrash around to no avail, you're stuck. "How could you? Jack was your friend!" You hide your face in the crook of his neck to stop the sobs, too scared to look at the crazed man holding you. He simply rolls his eyes, letting you soak his shirt with your pretty tears. "Don't be so dramatic - it's just some broken bones. He'll be fine... as long as he stays away from my things."

You raise your head shakily - you're drowning between hatred, fear and misery. The adrenaline is making you even more disoriented than the liquor percentage in your bloodstream.

"I am not a fucking thing for you to-" You hiccup, growing woozy as you hit weakly against his chest. The corners of his lips curl up slightly as he chuckles at the pitiful display. "For you to just own!" You keep going, cheeks purple from pent up fury - there's something tearing at your insides like you want to scream, you need it to come out, but you find yourself unable to push it off your flesh like it's been ingrained with glue and a shovel.

"You're wrong, baby. I do own you." Mathew says with the sweetest, softest voice you've heard in your life, sugary and bitter like poisonous honey. "Let's say you want to break up-"

"We already broke u-"

His eyes pierce you mid-sentence. You quickly close your mouth.

"Let's say," He repeats through gritted teeth, holding you so tightly you might just merge into one being. "That you want to break up with me." He inhales deeply, nostrils flaring. "Hypothetically. Then what? You have no place to live. I know you're staying at that shithole of a hotel down the street right now - it's filthier than a brothel, no?"

You want to say something - to argue, to scream. To tell him that he's being a rich, condescending asshole again, that you like the hotel - despite the mold and the cockroaches and the way there never seems to be hot water. Despite having to lock your door four times so you don't get assaulted in your sleep.

You say nothing.

"You don't have to confirm it. My agent tracked you down a week ago. Whatever - you'll run out of money in, approximately, 9 days." He smirks maliciously, with unhidden spite - just like a little devil. "Then what? You don't even have an address. And you know the city hall will take their sweet fucking time to help you register - if they don't make you pay a fine first." He strokes your chin cruelly. "We both know just how much they care about clueless little foreigners with less than a penny to their name." He whispers, twisting the dagger in. "Hell, they may even cut your scholarship. And. then. what." Your ex pronounces each word slowly - making sure you can understand it, feel it - fear it.

You imagine your family back at home. You can hear their voices over the phone, your mom smiling as you tell her about your day, your father asking you what you plan to do after college - whether you will still remember them, whether you'd take care of them once they have nothing left, since you took everything with you. The money, the hopes, the happiness...

"F-fuck you..." You whimper faintly, falling against him. You feel defeated, and the sharp words are all you have left. "Why are you doing this to me?" You mumble to yourself, suddenly feeling drained to the very bone. The man begins stroking your hair as he rocks you gently to the side. "Because I love you." He slowly kisses down your neck. "Because I'm the only one in this city who gives a fuck about you, and-" You can feel his smile against your burning cheek. "Because you're mine."

[misscrawfords]

The following plot is so tedious to me:

- heroine is supposedly bad and clumsy at stuff, an underdog, doesn't believe in herself

- there's a guy who is very, very hot but in a dangerous way and he's real mean, guys, real mean and she really hates him and there's good reason because he is so mean, just so mean

- he clearly hates her too for being the enemy or for being weak or being clumsy or whatever

- except that he keeps failing to kill her when he has the chance and his insults sound weirdly like ~advice on how to survive the difficult situation they're both in and sometimes he smirks at her and it's weirdly ~hot except that's IMPOSSIBLE and she is so definitely not attracted to him because that would be STUPID when he is so MEAN and he wants to KILL her

- until one day it turns out to her COMPLETE AND UTTER SURPRISE that isn't trying to kill her at all, he's actually PROTECTING her and he's been so HARD and MEAN to make her tougher because he has seen her POTENTIAL

- and then they kiss

The thing is. I could absolutely love this plot and I do when it's done right. Because enemies to lovers can be excellent and people concealing their motivations and not being what they seem is also excellent. But the problem is how poorly it's executed. There are several issues:

- this plot and characterisation is now so standard that as soon as a male character is described as antagonistic and yet conventionally attractive, I expect him to be madly in love with the heroine for no reason and I'm instantly reading a double motivation into everything he says or does. This is a problem in the hands of an unskilled writer because it means his antagonism poses absolutely no threat. Of course he's not going to kill the heroine! He's growling in a threateningly constipated way because he's trying to conceal his boner! The apparently subtle, hidden motivation is neither subtle nor hidden to the reader.

- Well, okay, fine, you might say. Why should it be subtle or hidden? It's okay to know genre expectations in advance! We all know Poirot will find the killer! Yes, but we don't know who the killer is, right? There needs to be some kind of mystery! If I can see the massive plot twist coming from the first paragraph in which the character is introduced then it's a really shitty plot twist!

- Furthermore, it makes the heroine look UNBELIEVABLY STUPID. This is particularly a problem in stories which are setting the heroine up to be SUPER SMART. If they are this clever, getting by on their wits, self-aware, why are they SO FUCKING OBLIVIOUS to the fact that the hot guy who they're obsessed with is really into them? "Why isn't he trying to kill me?" she muses thoughtfully to the reader. "I wonder what Machiavellian game he's playing?" she debates with herself endlessly. HE WANTS TO FUCK YOU, ROSEBUD, it's not that deep. If this were a genuine mystery, the reader could analyse it alongside the heroine, and feel shock at the revelation too but instead she comes across as an absolute moron and none of her internal debates are remotely interesting.

- ah, I hear you say, but haven't you forgotten the concept of dramatic irony? Knowing that Hector will die doesn't lessen the impact of hearing him debate whether to go out and fight Achilles and in fact increases pathos and tragedy. So surely knowing where a plot is going doesn't lessen its impact? Well, first of all you're not Homer writing the Iliad, Shirley, so jot that down. I just think you have to have some concept of writers craft to pull of dramatic irony successfully. If the narrative was ironic or even mocking towards the supposedly smart heroine's blindspots that would be one thing. If there were actual consequences to her for being a dumbass that would be another. But the narrative doesn't do that. It asks us with complete seriousness to believe Hot Mean Dude is a massive threat to heroine and that heroine is a very super intelligent super smart person. The narration of these books is SO flat. And first person present tense? Good grief, it's the WORST.

Beyond all this, I realise yet again how different my taste in men is to, apparently, most women. Massive dudes with muscles, tattoos and weird eyes who insult me continuously just aren't of any interest to me at all. I'm bored just reading a description of their appearance clearly designed to arouse female readers. Physically, emotionally, anything. I'd be off pining over a scrawny bookworm with asthma who's a minor character there to make witty quips under his breath, show me no interest whatsoever, and die pathetically in the final battle of book 2 out of 3.

And relatedly, I'd love to read about a heroine who is clever and competent and interesting. Like, genuinely. But the problem is their stories being told in first person, present tense. It's the most intimate of narrative styles which means if the narrative is dull, wooden, lacks flair or style or interest and yet is apparently the inner narration of the Smartest Person Ever, it's quite hard to suspend my disbelief.

Writers need to study the art of narratology a bit more and how being an unreliable narrator should extend beyond not picking up on the fact that you have the hots for your hot enemy who also has the hots for you.

[erwinsvow]

OMG I WAS THE ANON WHO SENT SMTH ABT ASKING JACK ABBOT TO BE UR BOYFRIEND A BAR AND SITTING IN HIS LAP TO ESCAPE A CREEP (unless tumblr ate my ask bc it hates me), BUT IVE BEEN WATCHING ANIMAL KINGDOM AND IM FROTHING AY THE MOUTH NOW THINKING ABT POPE AND THAT SITUATION GRHAGEHEH

im only on s2 of animal kingdom but i just ADORE how you write pope and i needed to share this with you because whenever i think of pope's characterization i think of you frfr

i actually went so physically insane over this prompt. i was counting down the minutes until school ended so i could write this and it's so small but i hope you like it. it would be perfect for jack but ohmygod for pope. imagine this is how he meets wifey or something. jesus lord

he sits on a stool at deran's bar, right against the counter, because he doesn't have anywhere else to be. anywhere else to go right now. there's bruises littered across his back and a visible scratch on his neck and one on his forehead that's still healing. a wrapped up hand picks up his beer and takes a long sip before setting it down a little harder than he intended.

the place is packed—it always is. some part of andrew, deep inside, is happy for deran. the people here are drunk and chattery and he knows that there's regulars and locals who prefer this place. his brother created something that others love, that people go to willingly.

and andrew hasn't felt anything close to that feeling in forever. he takes another drink of his beer, this time until it's empty, and raises it towards the bartender. he doesn't know where deran is tonight, probably out mixed in the crowd, mingling and talking. craig is probably with him. and like always, andrew is alone.

the bartender brings over another and takes the empty bottle away. it's his third or fourth—though it takes so much to get him drunk, he hasn't even begun to feel the stupid effects of it yet. and all around him, people keep partying, talking, drinking. loud over the music that plays in the background. it's all too loud.

this one will have to be his last. he needs to go home. but the idea of going inside the house, to his bedroom, to the bedroom that was lena's, makes him think the beer might come back up. he'll take the truck to the beach, sit there for a few hours. roll the window down so there's nothing but quiet and ocean waves. nothing can fix how he's been feeling recently, but maybe that can patch it up for a few hours, a temporary band-aid. (what he really needs is something closer to surgery, but he can't think about that right now. band-aid it is.)

he takes a breath, shoulders rising in the black shirt he'd worn today. another sip of his beer. and just when he decides it's time to go be alone—always, he's always alone—he feels a tap on his shoulder. there's a healing bruise, yellow and green, there so he winces briefly before turning to face who it is—craig or deran. he's not sure who else it could be.

and then he sees you. blinking up at him, eyes fluttering quickly. breathing heavy and turning your neck as if someone's following you. you look jittery and nervous, though for once, it's not directed at him. it makes something dark and protective wash over him briefly. you take little shallow breaths, he can tell from how your chest heaves, when he turns and faces you all the way. he doesn't think he's ever seen you before.

"yes?"

"w-what's your name?" you turn again, like you're waiting for someone to show up behind you.

"my name?" he repeats quietly. he can barely hear you over the continual drone of the bar and the shitty music. you nod quickly, taking a step closer to him. you slide between his seat and the seat next to him, standing there, so close that a couple more inches and you'd be touching him, skin to skin.

you don't look drunk. you're not slurring your words or stumbling. your hands are empty, your eyes still scanning the crowd. you're wearing a pretty dress and he stares at the strap of it on your bare shoulder momentarily before meeting your eyes again.

"your name. please, i-"

"it's andrew."

"andrew. andrew, i-" he almost doesn't catch the rest of your sentence. the way you say his name catches him off guard. slow and sweet and you said it twice like you're really making sure it's him. you say it as if you're happy it's him. he doesn't think he's ever heard it said like that before. "-i know this is going to sound crazy, but i really need help, um-"

and some instinct in him rises up quickly, washing over his body like a flood wave. that you need help. that you picked him to ask for it. that you seem jittery and nervous but maybe a flicker calmer than you were a moment ago. and he did that. and the satisfaction from that makes him incredibly glad he didn't leave after his last beer.

"what's wrong?" he interrupts you, but you notice it. how he sits up straighter, how his bruised hand twitches. it doesn't hover over you, yet, but he keeps it ready as though he might have to at any moment. his eyes are hyper-focused on yours. he listens to every word. and somehow, though you just walked up to the first guy you thought wasn't completely drunk, you think you're safe with him.

"this guy-" but you don't get to finish. since andrew locked eyes with you, you hadn't looked around to see if the guy that's been bothering you all night was getting closer. you couldn't find your friends and he'd used that opportunity to get right next to you and not take no for an answer. so you'd split the second he turned around, getting through the crowd as quickly as you could, wondering if maybe the bartender could help. but realizing a lesson your friends had told you a long time ago—the only no a guy like that will listen to is if it comes from another guy—you walked right up to a stranger in a black shirt instead.

"there you are-" the voice booms. you freeze mid-sentence, something andrew does not like at all. your expression changes, worry drapes over your face again, and despite andrew never being good at these things, he knows you're very uncomfortable. "was looking all over for you. where were we?"

you don't turn right away. your eyes stay locked on andrew's, taking one step closer to him.

but andrew doesn't half-ass anything. certainly not this, when you're trembling like a leaf and he can tell his drunk asshole won't stop bothering you. wordlessly, just from your pretty, worried eyes. he moves his hands to your waist—gently, but firmly. he doesn't wander them, just keeps them in place, still sitting down, moving his gaze from your eyes to the guy's.

but you worry, momentarily, that it's not enough. the asshole looks from you to andrew, to andrew's hands. before you can stop to think about it too much, you perch yourself against him, sitting on his lap. you swing your arm around his neck and keep a hand on his bicep to steady yourself. and andrew plays along perfectly, finding it too easy to bring one hand to your knee and keeping the other on your waist and look up at the guy in question.

he doesn't have to say anything. he knows that he recognizes him.

"oh," the guy starts, backing up a step right away. "i thought you were kidding about the boyfriend. you didn't say it was-"

"she wasn't," andrew says, though unbeknownst to you, he means it. "do we have a problem?"

"no, no, pope, no man. sorry about that, i'll-"

"tell her sorry." you turn your gaze from the encounter between the two men to andrew, not sure why he said that.

"i-i'm sorry-" he stumbles out, before walking away quickly. you must have picked the right guy to ask for help—he seems incredibly scared of andrew. briefly you wonder if you should be scared too.

"thank you," you say, looking back at andrew. he's looking at you too, and you don't realize how close your faces are until you can feel his breath against your cheek. he blinks up at you, not looking away. "oh, i'm sorry, i'll move-"

but his hands are firm on you, keeping you in place.

"stay." the way he says it, it doesn't feel like you have much of a choice. but you'd be an idiot to run from a man who just helped save you when you couldn't find your friends or anyone else to do so. his huge arm feels tense and taut under your hand and it's easy to melt into his grip, getting comfortable against him. you almost feel like you can trust him, like you didn't just meet him ten minutes ago.

"can i buy you another beer? to thank you?"

"yeah. sure."

[sirfrogsworth]

So, I did know the basic psychology of this. Or I have a good guess at least. But I was too tired and just needed a way to end the post quickly. I am running on fumes nearly all the time and sometimes I just do whatever I need so I can publish something and feel like I accomplished a goal.

But a few people are having issues with what I said.

They mentioned that autistic folks find comfort in repetition and feel like I am calling that sad. I definitely see that as a possible interpretation and I appreciate them mentioning feeling that way.

But I just wanted to use a little bit of energy to address why I don't think I was referring to these normal, healthy coping mechanisms. I mentioned in a reply that my father actually needed to watch the same show over and over because he was too sick to concentrate on something unfamiliar. I get why it can be helpful.

Firstly, I don't know many autistic people who trap everyone they know at a party and play the same 12 songs over and over.

By and large, that aspect was what I found most sad.

But aside from that, I see this repetitive behavior as a very different thing.

In fact, I would say it isn't the behavior itself... it is the *reason* for the behavior.

I see Trump's repetitive behavior more as living in the past, stuck in his ways, being stubborn, and unwilling to try new things. Something I see a lot with elderly conservative folks. They yearn for a better time in the past when they forgot all of the shitty things and only remember happy times. They say music was better in the good old days and refuse to consider any good music could be created outside of that golden age.

Trump is stuck in the 80s and 90s. He was young and healthy and grabbing pussy and fucking models (with and without consent) and going to parties of important people. He was invited to celebrity weddings and was literally Regis Philbin's best friend. Society generally liked him. He was just the goofy rich guy with the hair and many of us thought he was really good at business. Something enhanced by The Apprentice which was heavily edited to make him seem like a business genius. He likes people thinking he is good at business more than he likes being president.

I actually think he hates being president and only ran this time to stay out of jail.

Trump is not well liked as he used to be. No matter how many cult members love and praise him, he remains deeply unhappy. His wife refuses to touch or even kiss him in public. She does this little hand escape thing every time he tries to hold her hand. And when he tries to kiss her she makes him do that French thing where he has to kiss the air near her head.

Every one of his current "friends" is just playing the game. They are hoping their fealty will help them climb the ladder. I doubt he has a single genuine friend left. Except maybe Rudy Guiliani, who turned into a fucking nutball.

He was traumatized from being inches away from death and I think that was the real reason he moved his inauguration inside. A life long New Yorker is pretty well adapted to the cold.

He probably has erectile dysfunction. He is said to need a diaper. People say he smells really bad. Getting old sucks for everyone, but it is devastating to a narcissist of Trump's caliber.

Trump is in a psychological prison of unhappiness and all he has left is his rallies and his parties where he tries to trigger memories of better times. He has the world's thickest nostalgia glasses.

Why do you think he says "Make America Great AGAIN"?

He says he is going to restore the US to its "former glory."

Almost every personal and political goal of his is based on restoring how things used to be. Which is why he so easily fit into the regressive Republican party despite being a New York Democrat for most of his life.

Trump has elderly nostalgia brain and he is stuck in a loop. He is desperately trying to recreate his glory days.

I get why people had an issue with the caption. And I should have waited until I had more energy to clarify.

In the end, this man is stuck in his ways and stupendously uncurious of new things.

And those are terrible traits for a president.

[unpretty]

not going to tack this onto @derinthescarletpescatarian's post because it was long enough but here is my understanding of some of the various subgenres commonly encountered in light novels/web novels/licensed webtoons:

isekai: another world. if they end up in a different world it's an isekai. it doesn't matter how they got there. sometimes the other world is explicitly a video game the protagonist is playing. they're not dead or anything, just in virtual reality. they go home at night and it's fine.

portal fantasy: it does matter how they got there, actually. they went through a portal of some kind. wherever they end up, they keep their minds and bodies. maybe in the other world they have powers, but maybe not.

progression fantasy: they are going to level up like a video game character. there may or may not be an actual leveling up mechanic. they might just get stronger or acquire more wealth and powerful allies as it goes on. they will always kick more ass. hundreds of beavers is a progression fantasy.

litrpg: western term for 'the characters explicitly have video game mechanics'. there is probably a System of some kind. characters are aware of levels and power tiers. most controversial subgenre, lots of people hate this.

dungeon break/monster hunter: dungeons or portals appear in the real world, some people get powers that let them fight the monsters. lots of people try to tell me this is just litrpg but i argue that they are distinct subgenres with significant overlap. not every litrpg is this. you can probably find traditionally published american versions of this pre-dating video games and the litrpg concept.

transmigration: this is when truck-kun intervenes. there are other ways it can happen, but usually a character dies (hit by a truck is the most common trope) and wakes up in a different body. usually an isekai, usually it's into a story or video game, but it doesn't always have to be.

regression: a character dies, but instead of dying, they wake up as their younger self with all their memories from before their death. this is explicitly not an isekai, except when someone gets fucky with it and reveals that a transmigrator was actually also a regressor the whole time.

loop: if they regress more than once it turns into a loop. this is distinct because sometimes with regressors they just have the one chance to not fuck things up this time. some loop stories also have characters transmigrating a bunch of times.

villain isekai: usually transmigration. oh no i died and woke up as the bad guy in a story! now i gotta try not to fucking die!!!

romfan: romance fantasy. it gets called romfan instead of romantasy because it came first and is being translated probably.

otome isekai: also usually transmigration and also often romfan. you are now the prettiest princess and all the boys want to kiss you. i assume there's a 'harem' version of this For Men but i don't read those and can't tell you anything about them.

villainess isekai: usually a combination of the above three. most likely to be very meta and funny. i have a weakness for these ones.

divorce revenge: there might be a real name for this but i don't know it. sometimes this is paired with regression but not always, but it's very often a kind of progression fantasy. features a woman divorcing her shitty husband and then living her best life, which keeps getting better as her husband has to watch her kick ass and then cry about how he blew it. there are so many of these.

childcare fantasy: i think this includes both the ones where someone transmigrates into a baby, and the ones where they transmigrate to take care of a baby. i don't like this genre enough to check. but 'formerly abused child gets loved and coddled and anyone who tries to hurt them suffers' is a major component of this subgenre.

there's definitely more but my attention span has waned. here's some comics that are on my reading list after the cut, there's going to be undescribed screenshots because i'm lazy. you may need to find these elsewhere if you don't want to deal with tapas or webtoon and their paywalling systems.

The Greatest Estate Developer: transmigration villain isekai and progression fantasy with litrpg elements. architect uses his knowledge to save his own ass and also his new family, gets powers, everyone will unionize whether they like it or not.

Lout of the Count's Family: transmigration villain isekai and progression fantasy. ends up in otome isekai recommendations a lot despite technically not being an otome, on account of the eye candy and shipping potential. the webnovel has turned into like six different genres by now and is asspull central but i read it anyway. protag says he just wants to save his own ass so he can relax but does it by coughing up blood constantly.

The S-Class Hunters That I Raised: regression dungeon break litrpg. guy with shitty powers regresses and has to figure out how to make his power of taking care of people suck less, turns out it's OP as all hell.

Villains are Destined to Die: villainess transmigration otome isekai, maybe a little litrpg? there's definitely a system. protag just wants to go home because the visual novel she's in is notoriously difficult and she is at constant risk of being murdered. i like this one so much i own it in print.

Marriage of Convenience: regression romfan. not an isekai!! protag hated her life and died in poverty and shame after her husband died, this time she's going to try not doing that.

Villainesses Have More Fun: villainess transmigration otome isekai and progression fantasy. protag is very excited to be the villainess because she was the best character. she loves being rich. unfortunately at least one plot point raises the question 'why is that boy white'

Beware the Villainess: villainess transmigration otome isekai, meta as all hell, extremely meme-able faces, does not end in an OT3 but should have.

Baroness Goes On Strike: regression romfan, also not an isekai. protag wanted a divorce on her deathbed but woke up on the first night of her marriage, wants her life to suck less this time through the power of being assertive.

The Perks of Being a Villainess: villainess transmigration otome isekai and progression fantasy. protag has resting villainess face and progresses through the power of advanced math, unregulated capitalism, and abuse of the patent and copyright systems.

I Think I've Been Possessed Somewhere: transmigration isekai starring a main character who's read so much romance fantasy that she doesn't actually know what genre she's in because everything is too generic. meta as all hell.

Your Throne: villainess, sort of transmigrator? the crafty politically-savvy villainess bodyswaps with the naive saintess heroine, shit gets dark real fast, probably not going to end with girls kissing despite my hopes and dreams.

The Remarried Empress: divorce revenge romfan. you see this one referenced a lot in the comments of other romfans because everyone hates Rashta, the waif that the emperor divorces the empress for.

Raising My Fiance With Money: romfan, fake dating, sort of a divorce revenge except it's her ex-fiance. no isekai elements at all, but the protag is ridiculously lucky with money, comically wealthy, and supported by her doting family despite having terrible taste in men. her love interest is a teddy bear with resting murder face.

When The Third Wheel Strikes Back: transmigrator isekai. the protag never actually read the book, he only knows about it through osmosis because it's hugely popular and his sister is a big fan. one of the only things he knows is that in a recent update his character dies. also, it was already a transmigrator isekai before he got there. he isekai'd into an isekai. so much of the worldbuilding suggests a canon ot3 but i refuse to get my hopes up.

Omniscient Reader's Viewpoint: it's sort of a dungeon break. not really an isekai but kind of. litrpg, sure. there's regressors. there's transmigrators. there's a lot going on. kim dokja was the only reader of a terrible, ridiculously long webnovel that now appears to be coming true. the official adaptation appears to be making the webnovel less queer overall. i read the webtoon until i got impatient enough to force my way through the sometimes clunky webnovel translations. it's hard to explain orv because it's a story about stories. consuming stories, telling stories, stories told about you, becoming a story, the cost of a story. it is so long. there is so much happening. the story is resolved in the epilogue you might skip if you didn't know any better. some people find it too confusing while others read homestuck.

[martian-astro10]

Astrology observations - Part 3 (use whole signs)

🎀 For a lot of people with moon in 7th house, their mother had a huge impact on their personality (in a good or bad way). They'll either admire her a lot and try to be more like her or, do their best to not be like her. Their mother usually has a lot of say in who they marry. If the ascendant lord is not strong, then these people completely change after marriage and start to behave in a way in which their spouse would like them to.

🐈‍⬛Saturn in 9th house people can be really good when it comes to their career, they end up getting promoted earlier than others, but I've noticed that they prefer to work alone. It's like, they create something, but they would like someone else to market and sell it since communication is not their strong suit. Can be very introverted, not the best at taking initiatives, are very prone to undermining themselves.

🎀 moon in 11th house people have a really good relationship with their kids (unless it's debilitated). It doesn't matter if you're a guy or a girl, it's the same for both. They're the parents who have a very "chill" relationship with their kids, their kids trust them a lot, treat them as a friend. All my friends who have a great and healthy relationship with their parents, 85% of those parents had moon in 11th.

🐈‍⬛ Mars in 5th house people have such an "interesting" dating life; love triangles, friends with benefits, they've (or will) experienced it all. The people to say "it's complicated" when you ask them about their love life. But I've also seen that these people are very accepting of other people's dating preferences, this is one of the things that I really admire about them, this can result in them having a very diverse group of friends.

🎀 Jupiter aspecting ascendant/midheaven is one of the best placements that you could possibly have. I was going through celebrities' charts and I noticed that the ones who were exceptionally popular or rich had this like 90% of the time. With opposition and square it can indicate that people hate you at first, but then some info comes out and suddenly everyone loves you, but you gotta go through the hate first. Conjunction can go either way depending on the sign.

🐈‍⬛ Saturn in 4th house women have my full respect, like, these people go through so much shit in their life and yet they're so hardworking and never give up. Their mother was probably their worst enemy growing up. If you know someone who has this, give them a hug, they're carrying so much burden, and yet they never show it. You'll never hear these people complaining about life, have a very, "it's okay, problems come and go, you can't be sad all the time" mentality.

🎀 Sun in 1st house people make me so angry, I don't get along with them. They have such a shitty personality, and always wanna fight for absolutely no reason. Start a beef out of nowhere, but they are so fucking good at their job, that's actually what makes me hate them more. My class representative has this, and she's such a bitch, but she's so responsible, it breaks my fucking heart, can't even complain 😔

🐈‍⬛ Mercury in 11th house people have unmatched Rizz, will charm the pants off you (unless it's debilitated). I'm so jealous of people who have this. I know people with this, who are not conventionally attractive but their charm is what makes people like them. I never knew what it meant to be attracted to someone's personality until I met someone who had this. (I know this sounds like a backhanded compliment, but it's really not)

🎀 I have never in my life met a moon in 8th house person who was like....okay. these people will have a mental breakdown almost every week. Can't take criticism AT ALL. I have seen that people with this have a tendency to date whoever they see once they break up, just to show their ex how "wanted" they are, and it's not healthy because a lot of their hook ups have bad intentions. Have a habit of playing the victim "everyone bullies me 🥺" "I have the hardest life" and blah blah. On a positive note, they can handle fame really well because of their ability to manipulate people, once you get in their trap and start liking them, you'll never be able to hate them.

🐈‍⬛ I never see people talking about how smart Venus in 3rd house people are. I'm always so amazed by the way they carry conversations. A lot of women who have won beauty paegents have this because of how nice their answers were. A lot of young politicians have this as well. Their juniors often look up to them.

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