#its not because of the individual designs

[ahhhwomen]

Long overdue sorrow.

Vampire Empire

Part 7.2

Pairing: DarkVamp!Wanda Maximoff x DarkVamp!Natasha Romanoff x Fem!Reader

A/N: I got imposter syndrome, so hehe… also I don’t know what comfort is… but this is it ig? Well its my version, take it or leave it.

Chapter Warnings: Self-hatred, my version of comfort, allustions to past abuse Minors DNI 18+

Word Count: 3k

Taglist

You can still feel her.

Stained teeth crush together, grinding and creaking as your jaw suffers to bite down the nausea that settles in the pit of your stomach.

Bits and pieces of adrenaline rush inside you, leaving you unaware of the blood that trickles from your lip, smudging against your tear-stained cheeks as you strain yourself while the remnants of your nightmare float inside your head.

Her hands.

Her claws.

Her teeth.

Her taste.

It’s as if you’re still there. 

Its…

It’s just-

It’s- it’s too dark.

That’s it.

Your enclosure.

It’s just too dark.

You grope blindly against the floor; your eyebrows scrunched together as you search. The cord of your heat lamp had been janky for a while, so it was bound to snap at some point.

Your palms are spread wide to offer the most surface area as you glide them gently atop the space beside your knees. The glide is smooth, lacking the usual bite as skin scratches against concrete. You feel individual sensations against the pads of your fingertips; you can’t, for the love of you, remember having this much space to search through before.

It takes you far longer than you care to admit before you realize something is definitely wrong.

The ground.

It’s soft?

“Hey, baby.” You yelp at the sound of her voice and flinch as the overhead lights flicker on.

Squinting, you lift your left hand to shield yourself from the light that filters above you. A few strands of rouge light shine between your fingers, illuminating them and blinding you as your eyes adjust to the harshness.

Something is obscuring your view of the doorway, which definitely doesn’t make sense because your enclosure doesn’t have a doorway, it barely has metal bars.

After a few seconds, the blob of darkness morphs into the scary older redhead.

Ah.

Right…

It's like a blanket of stone settling atop your frame as the circumstances sink in.

It’s so heavy… pushing and dragging against your neck and shoulders as you dig your hands into the carpet to keep yourself up.

You look at her for a moment. With her right shoulder pressed against expensive oak, Wanda fumbles with her feet as she leans against the doorframe. Seemingly uncertain of which leg to add the most weight to.

It’s so distinctively unlike her…

And yet, though she is clearly unsure of herself, she still holds her head high, shoulders rolled back, and her feet firmly planted.

It’s almost funny… the resemblance.

Goosebumps litter your skin as the chill of the room invades your senses while you take in your surroundings. Shifting your focus to the bed behind you, you see sheets and pillows scattered along the floor where you must have fallen.

There is rustling in the background as the older redhead moves around, but you ignore it. You can’t look at her. You are surprised she can look at you.

The sound bounces off the walls first. It’s like the echo of a recurring nightmare as the heavy sound bounces and rings in a screech inside the brightly lit room. With your head turned, you can’t see, but you know the command well as she knocks twice beside her heel.

The resemblance.

It hurts…

That must be humorous to her.

Which only makes it hurt more…

“Come here.” The two taps against the cushioned flooring repeat. The sound is heavier than before, with more pressure behind each knock. Her clenched fist twitches a little after each collision, and her voice stays firm.

You drag your legs against the strange softness beneath you, seeping into it with more weight than strictly necessary. When your palms leave the designated path for a moment and stride slightly to the sides, the carpet itches against your scrawny fingers.

The floor is entirely carpeted in this room…

Clawing forward, your knees push down upon the material, testing its durability. Your knees don’t ache, and there is no screeching groan as your joints struggle. You can’t feel the movement in your bones.

There is no bite of pain.

You hate it.

The carpet brushes against the sides of your butt as you sit down a few feet in front of the knelt-down woman. Trying in vain to alleviate the slight itchiness, you attempt to evenly distribute your weight between your hands and rump. It takes a few trials and errors before you find a comfortable enough position.

When you stop squirming, Wanda takes a hold of your jaw, twisting your head gently until you are forced to look into her eyes. Your neck strains against the movement, unsure of whether to obey or not, but it’s fruitless; you know you can’t stop yourself.

She runs her thumb, back and forth, against your chin as her slightly curled pointer holds your head up, “You are mine.”

Huh?

Instead of elaborating, the older redhead licks her thumb.

It’s wet and cold against your cheek as she smooches it over the trail of dried blood originating from your split lip. Her finger runs over dried speckles repeatedly, flaking them off and catching them on her spit-covered thumb, saliva rehydrating it until it glistens to life.

She continues like this for a few moments. When she deems her work good enough, Wanda wipes her thumb on her pants, purposefully avoiding the taste of you.

You should be offended.

However, you understand.

You have always understood.

The older woman continues in a firm, yet gentle, tone, “It’s my job to take care of you. You don’t think, you don’t do, you just listen.” Being this close to her, you can feel her breath dancing between the two of you; it puffs against your lips periodically.

Why bother?

If you could, you might have asked her that.

God, you are so fucking disgusting.

For someone who’s been praised for their intelligence since childhood, Wanda feels incredibly stupid at this moment.

Wanda knows that look.

She should have noticed sooner.

It wasn’t like your detached behavior from the last couple of days. This was different. You didn’t cower away from her, and you didn’t look through her either.

You were here, but not with her.

You look angry.

But not at her.

Oh…

Oh no.

Abso-fucking-lutely not.

For a moment, everything is a blur of motion as the redhead moves at an inhumane speed. Not giving you enough time to react.

Warm hands encircle your waist. Her left hand rests the lowest, just above your tailbone, drawing small imaginary circles as her right hand sneaks its way into your hair. She gently hauls you into her lap, catching you off guard as a tiny squeak escapes from your lips before you can stop yourself.

You tense, preparing for the harsh tug as claws grip your hair firmly while she feeds from you. Instead, Wanda pushes against the back of your head with an open palm until you are forced to lie your ear against her shoulder, hiding your face beneath her jaw.

There isn’t much time to react before Wanda makes up her mind.

“Come. It’s late.”  Her left hand shifts from your lower back to supporting your bottom as she lifts you up and starts the trek to the master bedroom where Natasha is waiting for the both of you.

All you can focus on is the sound of her bare feet hitting the flooring as confusion and uncertainty simmer below the surface. However, you are too exhausted to think up questions you will never have answered or fight her grip, so instead, you relax into her.

She’s warm against your bare skin; it’s different from your heat lamp. Depending on the temperature outside, your red lamp would either scorch you or delicately balance you between life and death. Her skin was smooth, unlike your own, the subtle smell of roses submerging you in its warmth, softness, and false safety.

She can’t lie…

Natasha has to fight incredibly hard not to gasp out loud at the sight that greets her as her wife carries you into their bedroom.

The sheets beneath Natasha ruffle as she places her book on the nightstand beside her. The cover is leather, far older than you, so its texture runs deep, leaving small pits in the most used positions where the oil of her fingertips has run its course over the years.

She had been keeping a tuned ear on the baby monitor on Wanda’s side of the bed, but she didn’t expect this when she heard Wanda’s command for you to follow.

You are allowing yourself to be held…

But it’s not just that…

Natasha’s eyes are glued to the pair of you as Wanda pats your bottom reassuringly while she works on juggling you while attempting to get you both placed on the bed with the sheets pulled back.

You are resting with your head against Wanda’s throat…

The world’s most powerful vampire…

The mantra repeats inside Natasha’s head in the few seconds it takes for Wanda to settle on the bed with you still atop her lap.

You are resting… with your teeth against the only vulnerable part of a vampire’s anatomy.

Wanda gets squirmy even if it’s Natasha getting close to her throat.

The quick jab to her ribs is the only thing that brings Natasha back from her gob-smacked stare as Wanda flairs her elbow out and tilts her head toward your slumped frame. The lack of proper rest must be getting to you if you allow this much touch, especially from her wife.

Natasha’s lips can’t help but lift a little, seeing your small frame curled like a sleepy kitten on top of her wife’s lap, it was rather cute.

Reaching over slowly, so as to let you retreat from her touch, the younger redhead is delighted to be allowed to run her hand over your back gently while you relax heavily against the warm body beneath you.

You shouldn’t be doing this.

The pressure of multiple sets of hands pulls you deeper into the steep waters of your exhaustion.

They will make a fool of you.

The disgraceful pig you are.

Absolutely revolting.

“Stop that, baby.” Wanda drags her fingers through your hair, detangling and smoothing down your frizzy ends.

Your behavior was telling…

She weaves through your strands, tenderly separating parts and placing them to the side of your neck, the opposite side of the one that nuzzles her. Though it doesn’t expose your face to her watchful gaze, she can see your jaw peeking out and leans down to place a quick peck, unable to help herself.

It’s all so very strange…

Yesterday, she could barely look at you.

After… well you know.

You are rather sickening, so you can’t blame her.

But… what is going on…?

Wanda can practically feel the self-loathing that oozes from your very essence; it is her fault, really. She had assumed you would need space after what she did, but looking at you now, subtly shaking inside her hold due to the guilt you carry, Wanda realizes her mistake.

Pats turn into tender scratches. The tips of her nails rake down the back of your neck, the nail on her pointer is distinctively sharper than the rest, it pushes down on your skin, leaving behind a trickle of pressure, tugging lightly against the small hairs at the nape of your neck.

It feels…

Nice?

“I’m sorry, kitten,” Wanda whispers against the side of your head. Again, Natasha is the one who has to refrain from doing a spit take as her wife admits fault in such a caring manner.

The older redhead has her cheek pressed into the side of your head, leaving her words soft as she sighs them against the shell of your ear. The tiny hairs on the upper part of your ear stand at attention as her breath washes over them in a soothing pattern.

“It’s not your fault. It was never your fault.” She stills the hand against your neck, shifting it until her palm holds loosely against your jugular, and she pushes down against it. Pushing and prodding until you groan in relief. It’s on the tip of too tight, challenging your every breath.

Just like your collar used to.

“Want to know how I know this?” The question is rhetorical, and Wanda answers before you can think about it, “Because I am not Carol. I’m not a monster.”

Her other hand strokes your back. Her fingertips are warm, yet they leave behind trails of chills as she drags them back and forth against your shoulder blades while Natasha rests her hand against your lower back, “And neither are you.”

Yes, you are.

Your nose digs into her throat, desperately trying to escape the lies that pour from the older woman. You can feel her pulse against you, beating in a rhythm far slower than your own.

You might not have the accessibility to a mirror, but you aren’t stupid.

You aren’t like the other pets. You know how you look and what the meaning of your scars are. There is nothing desirable about you except for being a fucking juice box.

That damn collar was the only thing shielding you from your true gruesome self.

Without it you are nothing.

Nothing but h-

“You are mine.” A veiny hand joins the comforting weight against your throat, and you gently sway to the side as Natasha playfully shoulder bumps her wife in warning while she strokes the other side of your throat. The redhead sighs a chuckle, “Mine. And Natasha’s.”

Wanda leans even closer, whispering directly into your ear, it tickles a little, “But mostly mine.”

Your brows furrow in confusion for what feels like the hundredth time that night, but Wanda beats you to it, “I don’t know why… I don’t know when it changed; perhaps you were always meant to be ours.”

“These-“ The older redhead pushes gently onto one of the many scars that litter your neck, “don’t change that.” Wanda can feel your eyelashes flutter against her skin as you squint in suspicion.

Wanda continues to whisper softly, keeping a layer of calm that she hopes will settle some of your worries for the night, “We will get you a new collar. Natasha tells me she has ordered your name tag, though that one scares me a little because she refuses to tell me what’s on it…” The redhead aims for playful reassurance, but she hears you sniffle long before the first tear slides down her throat.

Isn’t it enough already?!

Why do they never know when to stop…

GOD JUST STOP!

You whine in disdain, horrified with your own reaction as you hear Wanda speak of a future you know to be false. You squirm inside their hold, tightening your hands against the older redhead’s cotton t-shirt as you desperately attempt to collect yourself silently.

“Look at me-“You pull away from her, embarrassed by your own reaction. She guides you back with her pointer while continuing to gently shush you, “No baby, eyes on me.”

You obey, if only to make her stop talking. Screwing your eyes open, your look into her eyes with tears obscuring your view, it stretches and morphs the sight before you, leaving you unsure whether you are really looking at her or not.

Wanda tightens her grip on you, the mere sight of your tears leaving her angry at memories she knows she can’t erase, but her anger can wait.

It needs to be said.

“You are mine. And you are beautiful.” She whispers between the two of you, the words land somewhere between your eyebrows, and you stare down at her. Natasha is glued to your back, keeping you sandwiched between the two of them so you can’t escape.

It’s unavoidable.

In that moment, everything boils over.

Every pot of despair, fear, hurt, and sorrow, bubbles and hisses.

And you?

You sob like the child you never were.

Natasha’s hands grip your midsection from behind. Your pain sears through her, and she digs her fingers in enough to feel your ribs expand and contract as you wheeze your pain through gurgling sobs.

“You are beautiful,” the younger redhead repeats the words of her wife, determined to say it until the end of her life if only to get you to believe it. You have been through so much, and you deserve this. You deserve the truth.

“Shhh… I know, I know, just breathe for me, honey,” Wanda keeps one hand firmly planted against your chest, helping regulate your breathing as she pushes up and down, while the other wipes away your tears.

You heave yourself on top of Wanda, curling into her, sticking your head as tight against her neck as you can manage.

It hurts.

Everything hurts.

But…

You claw your hands under her shirt, desperate for contact. Wanda relents, separating herself for a split moment so she can strip off the ugly band shirt she only uses for sleep attire.

With her naked skin pressed against yours and the praise whispered from her counterpart, you feel like you can finally breathe for the first time in your life.

Your body is determined to wring out every ounce of sorrow it has carried for so many years, and the two redheads let it. Cooing and soothing you as you sob.

It’s far passed midnight when you finally calm, only a sniffle here and there remaining. Truly spent and wrung out, you pass out against Wanda’s chest.

Wanda kisses your forehead and lets herself truly feel your weight settling on her chest; she feels your breath against her sensitive neck, your hands loosening.

It feels right.

Like you were always meant to be here.

Nothing is permanently fixed.

Wanda still has some next-level groveling to do after the stunt she pulled a few nights ago.

And in the morning, you will go back to your quiet, reserved, shy self.

But, for tonight; you cry, you cuddle, and you sleep without guilt or fear.

For once, you are free.

(You guys waited 9 months for this absolute garbage... I am so sorry)

Taglist:

@thinking1bee @tobiaslut @esmeseasle @skittlebum @tia-thesimp @maximilfsworld @leenasayeed @scarlethexelove @itsalwaysskorpioszn @observeowl @tekanparadiae @adelareys @anqyuicka @ichala @thalia-is-not-ok @lovelyy-moonlight @wandamaximoff-simp @opossumking03 @confidant-thoughts @delivery-bird @esouliie @geydumbbetch @dorabledewdroop @herwagonempathkid @mommysfavouritegirl @auroraromaximoff @roman0ffsheart @morganna-la-faye @kaosrsing @lizzieswife101 @og-kxsh-420 @chibilauren @sgm616 @cyber-juipter @falloutboy-lover @xxxtwilightaxelxxx @likefirenrain @cole2907 @rahhhha @taliiiaasteria @dehydratedcoffeeaddict @viktoriaromanovaa @julz2000 @ahintofchaos @consti-ss @broimjustadepressedlesbian @rowiebear @crispychaosmaker @mary-20 @romanoff101 @alexawynters @dinno-nuggets @riddlesknot @marvelwomenarehot0 @mommysgoodlittlebrat @purplelandyouth @consti-ss @redwolfphoenix @imnotawitch @transparentflapfarmsludge @gaylorvader @inarayofmoonlight @macaroni676 @xuxxke79 @laserbeam473 @mousetheorist @doyouseetthewords @vanessashands

[magiturge]

unfinished ref for my mafioso ( pasquale ) design, don't have a desire to finish it but i will talk about some details, some of it can eventually be outdated as i learn / understand more.

one of the biggest things is t he writing of "heaven is .." accompanied by the bunnies on the inside of his coat running. i've mentioned it before somewhere that my mafioso is in particular a bunnyfolk, a big bunnyfolk due to his greed in vulcanic heights.

these two details are in relation to the text that shows up when a big bunny in dream game jumps and lands

the text as transcribed from the wiki discusses perenniality.

it's hard to describe, though it's important to me.. so bear with me... mafia have a dialogue saying "we are soldiers, and soldiers don't go to hell". in infinite silver, there's a paper discussing fissure and it's barbarities. while it definitely is referring to fissure and the brutality of their leader wegottman ..

i feel like it can lightly apply to mafia, in the sense that they invade other areas, sick big psycharpaxes on targets with significant debth ( of which the mastery of big psycharpaxes is illegal ), leave bombs that leave long lasting fire in its wake while chiding the person on the other end. its brutal, as they say they have no room for empathy.

move from one target to the next, invade another area in the dreamsphere and leave again, over and over, the same game but slightly different everytime.

their is destruction in their wake even if their presentation can be so goofy.

the "heaven is.." of his belt is finished with the cyclical movement of the bunnies on the innerside of his coat, running and running in a circle, in a cycle around the inside.

( gesturing my hands wildly because i don't know how to explain it ) ..my mafioso is a little strange sometimes, in the head at least. he recognizes the remorseless and very greedy behavior he and the rest of mafia exhibit across the dreamsphere with the denial that they could ever go to hell.

he'll believe in a god when it benefits him. even with josafa's influence and silent presence across the dreamsphere, he'll only believe and pray for them in death.

if soldiers don't go to hell, where do they go. hell is empty. heaven is perennial.

-

more straight and direct details are the gradients of his coat and his hair going from dark to lighter from top to bottom. it's intended to reference the bunny pattern he's based on, which are silver marten rabbits!

his fur is mostly a dark color, to a slight blue / teal coloration to reference feral bunnies in game.

mafioso has eyes but they are hidden in the thick crest of fur in his face. it is rare to actually see them since he is usually looking straight ahead or has his fedora tipped at an angle where you may only see the lower half of them.

-

the bunnies of his coat's collar are semi-alive, semi-extensions of his will. they're sort of like pets at the same time, they are in all terms, his.

the bunnies are generally sleeping and are all individually named by mafioso. they can wake up and jump off or exist as their individual named self. they are not bunnyfolk.

in a more feral state that mafioso can be in ( usually in pursuit of a target or just being angered ), the bunnies are no longer visually domesticated bunnies but become wild hares that join in the pursuit of a target. they become noticeably less friendly, losing the round softness they had in their sleep.

-

mafioso owned a big psycharpax as a pet that he lost ownership of in the events of the meat market arrest.

[weirdmageddon]

first i wanna say whenever i said “differentiation” above i actually meant “individuation”. sorry got them mixed up they’re kinda similar words

#op had no clue you were looking at the tags thank you for the very #very smart addition with all your sources (wow) #felt like I was reading a paper I felt educated! #I love how I didn’t get that into what I was trying to say in tags but you completed my thought anyways #multiple times I went ‘that’s EXACTLY what I’m saying’

whaaat of COURSE i'm looking at the tags. i soak up what people have to say like a sponge. i think i was looking for a discussion and you got the ball rolling by bringing new information to the table i didn't know, but immediately knew how it fit into all the connections i've made, and i accidentally just gave birth to an essay?

i swear i wasn't even intending it to be a full-fledged essay. i just have a lot to say. there is a LOT i keep in my head because i don’t expect most people to have as in-depth of an understanding as me about it, but when it can actually pass as relevant to a discussion i’m so happy to be able to put it out there without alienating myself. from my perspective, twas a normal post for me to make when i have a lot of information i've been sitting on. and i like citing sources so that people can read more if they're interested. but this is probably unusual or for most of the people reading this, i mean who else have you seen casually posting something like this, BE REAL

also, YES "that is EXACTLY what i'm saying" that is one of my favorite feelings ever. i live for that. so glad i could expand on your thoughts!

#also jung in the houseeee!! idk if it’s just my family but we love jung over here #I really gotta read up on it my grandma is a therapist who practices only in jungian(?) #clearly im uneducated on the proper word here it’s also 4 am so forgive me #anyways yeah my gma big into jung then my mom and my brother and I was just talking about the dream book he has today #so I went ‘omg! Jung!’ while reading this #it’s always so nice to see someone with knowledge and passion throw down #I was just gonna stick to canon or in text examples

canon or in-text examples are great too, they’rereally the basis for everything. but i see connections between my interests and can’t help but smash them together in a way that deepens them individually cause they complement each other.

personality typology, carl jung’s ideas, socionics, etc. are given living breathing context to manifest within so it's not just a cerebral abstract theory. it’s reunited with the substance that these psychodynamic theories originated from in the first place.

the venture bros is inextricable from its creators because so much of themselves and their experiences are put into the show. i remember doc once said in some interview “we plumb our own lives”. in the commentary jackson said one of the streets in the show was designed based on a block from his childhood and that these are the same kinds of steps he'd sit on. or in the art book, “what’s one of the most embarrassing things that happened to me in my life that i can write from?” their philosophy is both very “write from what you know” (that’s also what i do). so analysis of the show and its characters, and by necessary extension, the creators, is deepened with tools that allow the analysis into the nature of self that complements the development of characters.

#also I didn’t want to get too into it in my tags bc I do feel uncomfortable theorizing the existence of a character #bc I knew Jackson mom passing had to be such a strong part of him but I felt uncomfortable going into that #they also made this show in their 20s? 30s?#the time frame where you end up thinking about your identity #there’s a commentary where doc mentions he at the time couldn’t let go of internally gay bashing himself #a thing his bullies did that he has now internalize but he found it weird bc he’s so old now and alone so why is he doing it? #and then I went there it is there is that proof I needed to know this is a breathing art

to tell you the truth, when i was writing i actually wasn't thinking about that at all. “feeling uncomfortable theorizing the existence of a character because you knew jackson's mom passing had to be such a strong part of him but felt uncomfortable going into that”. so reading you think that made me feel a smidge guilty/embarrassed in hindsight now for not even considering that. because, yeah, i don’t know jackson in person, i’ve never interacted with him personally. but i know enough about him as a person just through the show itself and how he reveals his personality through his relationship with doc hammer, his own words, his actions and writing decisions and that makes me just…..objectively confident about what he can handle?

i think the reason i didn’t feel uncomfortable talking about it is because i have no reason to think that jackson himself would mind it if he were to hypothetically read this. i don’t think i’m being presumptuous when i say i believe he’d find it interesting and insightful that i linked those things. i think he’d find it a lot more interesting and perceptive than... i dunno, a lot of the interview questions they’ve been asked? from my perspective it's like a “hey, i see you” kind of thing.

i mean come on they had the episode Assisted Suicide which LITERALLY depicts rusty’s id, ego, and super-ego as characters with their own clever designs and shit (it was written by doc hammer but still jackson publick was part of the production and the idea of it.) i really doubt either of them are averse to psychological exploration, so long as it comes from an informed foundation and not someone who literally doesn't know what they're talking about.

like yeah it is personal in the sense that it is personal to his life, but that doesn’t necessarily mean uncomfortably sensitive. you can talk about personal things and still have an ability to neutrally reason about it as a fact of life, or even joke about it. if you think about it that's basically what the whole show kind of is. that’s a big part of the actual spiritual composition of the show, right? (and based on comments i've read around, that's probably why it's got an antidepressant effect for a lot of people.)

as doc says, "we grew up weird and we're doing our best to just spread our version of love. Which is trying to find out who we are." well that's exactly what i'm doing too. exploring psychological forces is the stroke that's underlying the entire show. “how did these actions affect the internal development and emotional development of xyz”. i believe that's part of why why the narrative is so effective and plays off the character's dynamics so well and how they organically evolve.

(p.s. i’d love to have a new edition of the art book that accounts for the movie, assuming they’re not under some NDA about the scrapped season 8 ideas.)

and you’re right it IS breathing art. that’s how the show was made. the creative process was more spontaneous than having the whole thing planned out.

10:28

Chris: But I want to talk about the creative process here. I think fans of Venture Brothers will know the feeling that there’s this kind of amazing tension that drives the show, between planning and discovery. And you’ll have whole seasons or specific episodes that are kind of these amazingly intricate clockwork plots with these insane payoffs, but then there’s also this element of pure discovery, of something that was a toss-off joke or someone who happened to be a background character in one scene, because they were a background character in that scene having to become a main character three seasons later. So, I was just wondering... could you speak to that tension between planning and discovery?

Jackson: Uhh, more discovery than planning. And then just having a dumb memory and ticking on stupid things. And always like, from day one, the least important background character... I insisted that everybody look a little interesting. You know, like everbody’s appearance implied a story we weren’t telling you. And that paid off a few times. We got a few main characters out of that, ultimately. You know, like White and Billy were just these two weirdos at a science convention. And Doc was like, “I wanna write for the little eyepatch metal hand guy. Why does he have that?” You know? And then once you start doing that, you're like... “I gotta tell the story of how he got his metal hand! Cause I got nothing else.”

Chris: Yeah.

Jackson: So yeah, mostly discovery and accident and uh... mental catalogue of everything... that, you know... that sits in the back of your memory for years and these molecules just bounce off of each other.

Doc: Yeah. And we talk about these characters- we spoke in their voices for months. (Jackson laughs) Every day, at the expense of every relationship we’ve ever been in. (Jackson laughs harder) When we invented Sgt. Hatred’s voice, the guy at the deli-

Jackson: Oh my god... (wheezing laughing)

Doc: The guy at the DELI was like “what is WRONG with you”, I’m like, “(Hatred's voice) Eyeah, I’ll be havin”…

Jackson: (laughing)

Doc: “The black and white...”

Jackson: (mic peaking, Hatred's voice) “EYEAH go ahead and uh Slap auh smidge a mustard on that, would ya?”

Doc: Through the voice we developed the character, and everything came from that. And since we’re obsessive about these voices and these characters, we lived them... We can’t have a conversation for more than ten minutes without doing an impression of one of our characters. And usually ones we don’t do. So you get to hear our horrible impressions of each other. That is just the way we thought.

Sean: So this season, why did you decide to explore so much of the Venture past?

Doc: Did we?

Jackson: Did we?

Doc: I think the season before this we got even crazier. We had to answer Billy questions that nobody asked.

Jackson: Right. Yeah, that was the season with old Billy, ORB, uhh..

Doc: Yeah. We went 100 years into the Venture past. So this one we kinda stayed...

Jackson: We did a little Spanakopita, we did a little um, in the Rose stuff and the... but those were pretty quick flashbacky things.

Doc: Little quick flashbacks...

Jackson: But also the show is all about these people who are kinda.. haunted by, and trying to live up to their pasts and what the promise of what their life was supposed to be like. And it’s... the history is constantly pouring more shit down on their heads. Like, we’ve always had a show where things come back to get you like that.

Doc: Even things that happened so long ago and nobody knew about until that moment. Yeah, we work in past, present, future... it’s that kinda show.

#vbros is still to me and morel Orel shows that are created with intention #and by people who were working through a thought so clear you can see it from space #and that intention is something so interesting and unique #anyway amazing analysis

you’re also so right, and thank you for kind words

if i had the opportunity to talk to doc and jackson, i’d love to see what they have to say about what we touched on: about hank’s developmental arc always feeling like it would fit the end of the vbros and kind of culminating in its overarching theme of individuation (whether they explicitly knew it or not. it’s in the material no matter what because that’s what organically happened to the show itself), and what they had wanted to do with him before they had to cut it down to movie size. was hank going to really Go Through the psychological ringer or what. how much were we going to see of that that was cut out.

also the unintentional retreading of jungian ideas in the show (though a lot of superhero stuff is about playing with identity in these ways that could be examined through analytical psychology like bruce banner and his other side, the hulk.) i wanna hear about how playing with the self and personalities and self-discovery factors into it all. hank’s alter-egos being a personification of psychic structures, or complexes/sub-personalities? (was i right about my interpretation?)

how similar is the relationship hank has to his alter-egos to the relationship jackson publick has to hank and the monarch as characters he created? like hank's alter-egos, they could both be considered autonomous mini-personalities stemming from jackson’s own self, as he said hank (and monarch) contained the most of him, drawn from his “own dumb thoughts, actions, and misbeliefs”. like a meta fractal thing. and that’s part of the creative process just as much as anything else about the show, probably one of the most vital to the quality of the characters yet subconscious and not really talked about. i'd looove to dive into that with them.

especially with hank’s no mommy plotline and how personal that was to hank, which reflects jackson’s reality. we can’t really see who worked on what scenes since the movie was collaborative, but i want to know who was writing hank. his emotions felt so authentic but it also felt big because we’ve never seen hank so serious, you could feel a shift with hank buckling down which made it feel important. my guess would be jackson since his understanding would enable him to channel that masterfully into hank which makes it so compelling. but i could be wrong since i know doc said he can write eight pages for psychological issues (look at me doing it too god fucking damn it) but writing action is like a tiny footnote.

basically i wanna talk to them about everything i said up to this point in this post. if anyone reading this has connections, get me in contact. i’m invested in this now.

whereas dean was tormented by being a clone and hank wasn’t, not having a mom or mother figure seemed to torment hank a lot more than dean which is interesting.

[tea-cat-arts]

Me: "ok, wait till it's in game and you have context to react. The storytelling may support the design"

Also me: "THEY FUCKING ELYSIA-IFIED SEELE!!!"

[bixels]

I think 90% of my gripes with how modern anime looks comes down to flat color design/palettes.

Non-cohesive, washed-out color palettes can destroy lineart quality. I see this all the time when comparing an anime's lineart/layout to its colored/post-processed final product and it's heartbreaking. Compare this pre-color vs. final frame from Dungeon Meshi's OP.

So much sharpness and detail and weight gets washed out and flattened by 'meh' color design. I LOVE the flow and thickness and shadows in the fabrics on the left. The white against pastel really brings it out. Check out all the detail in their hair, the highlights in Rin's, the different hues to denote hair color, the blue tint in the clothes' shadows, and how all of that just gets... lost. It works, but it's not particularly good and does a disservice to the line-artist.

I'm using Dungeon Meshi as an example not because it's bad, I'm just especially disappointed because this is Studio Trigger we're talking about. The character animation is fantastic, but the color design is usually much more exciting. We're not seeing Trigger at their full potential, so I'm focusing on them.

Here's a very quick and messy color correct. Not meant to be taken seriously, just to provide comparison to see why colors can feel "washed out." Top is edit, bottom is original.

You can really see how desaturated and "white fluorescent lighting" the original color palettes are.

[Remember: the easiest way to make your colors more lively is to choose a warm or cool tint. From there, you can play around with bringing out complementary colors for a cohesive palette (I warmed Marcille's skintone and hair but made sure to bring out her deep blue clothes). Avoid using too many blend mode layers; hand-picking colors will really help you build your innate color sense and find a color style. Try using saturated colors in unexpected places! If you're coloring a night scene, try using deep blues or greens or magentas. You see these deep colors used all the time in older anime because they couldn't rely on a lightness scale to make colors darker, they had to use darker paints with specific hues. Don't overthink it, simpler is better!]

[wassupmygays]

god its so cool and Important how. despite all the bright colors and flash fabrics and jewelry, all of the socs are really just carbon copies of each other. theyve all got the same base, just recolored like a character selection page on a cheap game.

all the guys have their crisp, clean, bright shirt, their nice stiff pants, belt, and white shoes. add in some rings and maybe a chain or somethin, and thats about it. add on their matching letterman jackets, and theyre practically identical.

all of the girls have their pretty dresses and styled hair, but thats really it. their dresses all match the popular style at the time, their hair is perfectly placed and not really Theirs. theyre all styled to be popular, not individual.

and they're all so colorful! because they can afford new fabrics and bright colors and expensive dry cleaners to wash them, though they're careful not to get dirty. theyre so bright and colorful but so painfully similar

contrast that with the greasers, who are all relatively in the same color palette. theyre in basic t-shirts, and denims, and leathers. work clothes. theres no split based on gender, ace wears pants with the guys. they are all down in the dirt and grimey, they all have to move and work in these clothes.

but theres so much personality in their outfits! even just the little things, like jewelry or headbands, tells so much about each person. ace's headband is a scrap from the shirt on her back, showing her resourcefulness. darry's flannel and work pants showing his grit and hard work. the patches decorating steve's jacket, showing his passions and the things he fights for. Johnny's vest showing his heritage, and his too-big clothes showing how hes got hand-me-downs. two-bit's tattoos, shown proudly and boldly on his bare arm for the whole world to see.

the greasers might all look 'the same' at first glance because theyre all in grays and dirty whites and denims. but god there is so much more heart and character and diversity in their outfits and therefore in their lives simply because theyre not worrying about sticking in a top spot of society. theyre not worrying about individuality being a weakness to tear them down. theyve got much bigger things to think about. theyre so free in that sense. free to be themselves, free to be with each other and support each other. because thats all they got; their hearts and each other.

the socs dont have that connection. they dont have that chance to be vulnerable and share a part of themselves so constantly. they may live where the grass is greener but are they really so much better off, if they can never truly show themselves?

[rafesbbyy]

I am barking right now. Screaming. Crying. Throwing up. This is going to be very long because I cannot stop about how much I love this.

Your favorite flowers sit in a vase on the marble countertop. A book you once mentioned offhandedly rests on the nightstand in the master bedroom. A closet full of designer dresses in your size hangs neatly beside rows of shoes and handbags.

HELLO?? This is actually insane. You know how I said Rafe didn't really care about her or something?? Well I take it back because this man clearly listens to her!! I was expecting him to want things to be his way even in this new house of theirs. But I'm so glad to see him recognizing some level of individuality in reader. To be seen is to be heard, or how ever the quote goes. Like it's literally so sweet of him to remember her fav flowers and book?? (maybe the bar is on the floor but this is the same man who was a lil cold and uncaring just a few chapters before!!) Also, the closet full of designer clothes?? MEOWWWW. Can I pls live readers life??? Rafe could tell me to bark and I would if it meant I'd be getting a closet full of rich shit.

The words are shaky, written in a child's uneven scrawl. They tell a story of loneliness, of always being second place.

Can you hear me crying??? You did not have to break my heart like that babe 💔💔💔

"She’s not naive," Rafe says, his voice even but firm. His arm drapes over the back of your chair, a casual but unmistakable show of possession. "She just grew up with people who never listened to her."

I have never been more turned on in my life. I have to keep reminding myself that this man isn't real. I'm so glad he stood up for her like as he should honestly!! Fucking finally!! Its the way he was exerting dominance in this scene tho—like yes pop off king!! Him saying what needed to be said in one simple sentence—OOOFFF I AM DYING. We love a protective man💗💗Lets hope now his ass can also stand up to his friends smh.

For once, someone stood up for you.

I am CRYING. She's way too sweet for Rafe🥺. I feel soooo bad for her honestly, like poor baby🥺🥺Rafe better treat her right or else I hope reader drowns him (she probably won't cuz poor thing has no other option but to be his lmaoo)

Your father exhales, shifting in his seat. Your mother fidgets with her bracelet. Your brother watches you, expression unreadable. "If you can’t accept that," you continue, "then don’t bother coming."

Oh her family is annoying annoying. Like, why are they all acting so clueless?? First they isolate her, make her feel dumb and all, and then make fun of her right in front of her future husband? Istg, I'm so glad reader put them in their places!! She's learning (from Rafe, I'm afraid).

"Shh, angel." His palm presses against your core through your dress, the heat of him seeping into you. "I like seeing you like that. Strong. Knowing what’s yours." Your thighs clench, a soft whimper escaping before you can stop it. "You know what else is yours?" His voice is low, teasing, as his fingers slip beneath the fabric, barely brushing where you need him most. You bite your lip, your pulse thrumming. "What?" Rafe tilts his head, his lips brushing the shell of your ear. "Me." And just like that, any tension from the night melts away—replaced by something else entirely.

I just came in my pants. I think this is his first time acknowledging her as a person? Like acknowledging her individuality and actually appreciating it. I'm afraid all the bad things I said about him have to be taken back because he's actually so hot. Like so hot I wanna stay on my knees forever for him. Also, love the contrast from the previous chapters, where she's always 'his' but now he's "hers". Ahhh they're both so cute n hot together.

(Also, this might be super weird but for some reason the way you wrote Rafe sometimes would remind me of Mads Mikkelsen?? Maybe I'm dumb or reaching, but Rafe just gives me Mads Mikkelsen vibes, especially the coldness, the sugar daddy vibe.)

Anyways, I love how you've written something so electric and beautiful!! If Rafe was real, I'd be running away from him (and maybe towards him) but you write him in such an electric charming way that I just can't help but fall in love with him despite him being an asshole lol. I've also been daydreaming about sugar daddies so I blame you, no one else for making me this way 💔💔 Love this chapter like always 💗💗

SUGAR-COATED CHAINS — CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

WARNINGS — controlling behaviors, possessiveness, family problems, light smut mdni

You weren’t expecting a detour.

Rafe had told you you’d be meeting your family for dinner, but instead of heading straight there, the car turned onto a long, tree-lined driveway, leading to an estate tucked away from the city.

Your brows knit together as you glance at him. "Where are we?"

Rafe doesn’t answer immediately. He simply steps out of the car and comes around to open your door. There’s something unreadable in his expression as he takes your hand, guiding you up the front steps.

The house is massive—far bigger than your penthouse, though just as sleek and expensive. But when you step inside, it’s different. You expect something cold and unfamiliar, but instead, the space already feels… lived in.

Your favorite flowers sit in a vase on the marble countertop. A book you once mentioned offhandedly rests on the nightstand in the master bedroom. A closet full of designer dresses in your size hangs neatly beside rows of shoes and handbags.

"You like it?" Rafe’s voice is casual, but there’s an edge of expectation beneath it.

You swallow. "This is… ours?"

"It’s ours," he confirms. "We’re moving in after the wedding."

You open your mouth to protest—to at least discuss this—but then something catches your eye. A door, slightly ajar, at the end of the hall.

Something about it makes your stomach twist.

You step forward hesitantly, your fingers trembling as you push it open.

The room is immaculate. Soft pastels, delicate lace curtains, a bassinet already in place. A nursery.

Your breath catches in your throat.

"Rafe."

He hums behind you, his hands settling on your waist. "Go ahead. Take a look."

Your heart pounds as you step inside, the air suddenly too thick. It’s not just a house. It’s a future. One you never planned.

"Rafe, I—"

His grip tightens, his breath warm against your ear. "This is ours, angel. You knew this was coming."

You swallow hard, a strange weight settling in your chest. It’s not like you hadn’t thought about it before, but seeing it—physically standing in the life he’s building around you—makes it real in a way you weren’t prepared for.

"You’re mine," he murmurs, turning you in his arms. His gaze is steady, unwavering. "We’re done pretending otherwise."

You’re not sure whether it’s comfort or control, but either way, it sinks in.

Because maybe you never really had a choice at all.

—

The drive to your parents’ house is even quieter now.

You stare out the window, fingers clenched in your lap.

Rafe notices. He always does.

"You nervous, angel?" he asks.

You shake your head. "No."

A lie.

He hums, unconvinced.

When you arrive, your mother greets you with a polite kiss on the cheek. Your father barely looks up from his phone.

It’s your brother who makes the biggest show of it—grinning as he pulls you into a one-armed hug, ruffling your hair.

"Look who it is!" he teases. "Still the baby of the family, huh?"

You laugh lightly, but it doesn’t reach your eyes.

You tug Rafe’s hand. "Come on. I’ll show you my room before dinner."

Your childhood bedroom is smaller than you remember.

Pink sheets still hug the bed. Books still line the shelves.

"Didn’t change much, huh?" Rafe muses.

"Guess not."

You kneel by the dresser, rummaging through an old jewelry box. You don’t notice the way Rafe moves, fingers grazing along your desk—pausing on a small, worn book.

Your diary.

He flips it open.

It only takes a few seconds for him to understand.

The words are shaky, written in a child's uneven scrawl. They tell a story of loneliness, of always being second place.

Of feeling forgotten.

His jaw clenches.

Rafe has always known you were his. But seeing this—seeing how long you’ve felt unwanted—does something to him.

He tucks the diary back into place just as you turn around.

"Found it," you say, holding up a trinket.

Rafe nods, gaze unreadable. "We should head down."*

You don’t notice how he holds you just a little tighter than before.

As predicted dinner is tense.

Your parents are polite, but distant, treating you like a guest rather than their daughter. Your brother, on the other hand, can’t resist slipping in jabs—mostly harmless, but enough to make you squirm.

"You remember how she used to follow me and my friends around?" he chuckles. "Swore she was one of us."

You laugh lightly, even though the memory stings. You were always on the outside, trying to fit in, never quite enough.

Your mother smiles dismissively. "She always was a bit… naive."

That’s when Rafe puts down his fork.

It’s subtle, but it makes the whole table pause.

"She’s not naive," Rafe says, his voice even but firm. His arm drapes over the back of your chair, a casual but unmistakable show of possession. "She just grew up with people who never listened to her."

Silence.

Your father clears his throat. Your mother gives a nervous chuckle, brushing off his words, but your brother looks like he’s actually considering them.

Rafe picks up his fork again, like nothing happened. But beneath the table, his hand slides to your thigh, squeezing gently.

You don’t say anything, but something warm blooms in your chest.

For once, someone stood up for you.

After dinner, as everyone lingers in the living room, you take a slow breath before turning to Rafe.

"Can you wait in the car for a minute?"

His brows furrow slightly, but he nods, pressing a kiss to your forehead before stepping outside.

Your family looks at you expectantly.

You hesitate for only a second before speaking. "I want you all at the wedding."

Your mother’s lips press together. "Sweetheart, of course we’ll be there—"

"But not if you’re going to treat me like a child." Your voice is steady, surprising even yourself. "I get it. I was always the little sister. The quiet one. The baby of the family. But that’s not who I am anymore."

Your father exhales, shifting in his seat. Your mother fidgets with her bracelet. Your brother watches you, expression unreadable.

"If you can’t accept that," you continue, "then don’t bother coming."

Silence stretches between you all. It’s terrifying, but liberating.

Your mother is the first to speak, softer this time. "We’ll be there."

You don’t wait for more. You just turn and walk out the door.

—

The car ride home is quiet at first. You stare out the window, letting the weight of the night settle in.

Then, you feel it—Rafe’s fingers tracing slow circles on your bare thigh.

"You did good back there," he murmurs.

Your breath catches. His hand slides higher.

"Rafe," you whisper.

"Shh, angel." His palm presses against your core through your dress, the heat of him seeping into you. "I like seeing you like that. Strong. Knowing what’s yours."

Your thighs clench, a soft whimper escaping before you can stop it.

"You know what else is yours?" His voice is low, teasing, as his fingers slip beneath the fabric, barely brushing where you need him most.

You bite your lip, your pulse thrumming. "What?"

Rafe tilts his head, his lips brushing the shell of your ear.

"Me."

And just like that, any tension from the night melts away—replaced by something else entirely.

[floralovebot]

MADE EDITS i couldn't stop thinking about their outfits and like,, the aspects i liked and thought felt very winx and in line with the individual characters and the aspects i Hated and thought sucked dookie SO i made some edits :)

biggest changes are to musa, aisha, and stella! actually changed the clothes there. flora and tecna i just adjusted the colors (in flora's case to further unwhitewash her and saturate her clothing more and in tecna's case to bring back her pink hair and green and cyan).

explanations on changes below!

I'll start with the simpler edits!

For Tecna, I just wanted to play around with her og colors lol I actually LOVE her new look and I would love to see this be the final design!! It's SO tecna and fits in with the rest of the winx i love it soo much :') I do think they should bring back her pinker hair though! And again, would love to see the green and cyan make an appearance. I feel like neon green is just very classy techy character. And while it is cliche, I do love it akjgd plus I think it looks good on her and makes the other colors stand out more imo! (but maybe this new, pinker look will make people like her more idk :') justice for tecna my beloved :'))

For Flora, I darkened her skin more for obvious reasons. And then I added more saturation to the colors and added back the warmer tones they took out. Imo, the darker, desaturated, and cooler toned look for Flora only works in very specific circumstances. Color theory rainbow!! Bring back the brightness! The color!! The warmth!!

Which brings me to Stella ohmygod,,, please,,,, please stop desaturating her she looks so pale and sick and lifeless STOP please :') Anyway lol, obviously brought back the brighter orange! I also took away the random sleeve. It's cute but it just didn't feel very Stella at the time? The tube top look is Very Classic Stella (very much giving s3 casual but in orange). Tbh, I don't love the dress itself, but I do think it looks better once you add more of Stella's colors. I also tanned her skin more and made her hair more yellow + brighter! Just like with Flora, color theory is important for media!! This Stella design just does Not give sunny, optimistic character. It's giving the gap (aka BORING aljdhg)

Aisha's design stumped me for a bit, I won't lie. I couldn't figure out exactly what I didn't like. But I got it!! One, way too symmetrical imo. Yes, Aisha does have some very symmetrical looks, but like 80% of her looks are very asymmetrical. I also didn't love that it didn't incorporate more of Aisha's powers. It really just went for *vaguely sporty* and didn't try to bring anything else to the table. And some people might say that Aisha's og looks were like that too, but I disagree! They told a story! She's a brave adventurer, a dancer, a princess, etcetc!! This tells me "oh yeah this girl might like to do yoga. cool."

Anyway! So I made Aisha's pants baggier because let's be fucking real for a sec. Changed the design on the pants slightly to make it asymmetrical and incorporated a wave design. Took away that bottom shiny fabric of her shirt. I tried to keep it but it just wasn't looking great with the pants changes tbh. Added small waves to the bottom and made it one shoulder! Also added her classic little circle wave design 1. because it's cute and 2. so Musa wouldn't feel so out of place with a design. Tbh, I still don't love the pants... I think maybe that hem could be higher?

For Musa! I've spoken about this before but I do not like the bodysuit. I liked the concept and the vibe it brings, but it looks So uncomfortable and s1 Musa was alllll about being comfortable. It's why so many people think she hates wearing dresses (even though she doesn't). So I kept the vibe, but changed it to the same mesh that's on her right arm! Which like!! I didn't even see that until I started the edit!! It's so,,, unnoticeable which like,, isn't a bad thing? But also? I think the mesh being on her stomach too makes the design as a whole a little more balanced (and it's a nice callback to her og magic winx!). As for the color changes, really just wanted to go back to her reds and dark blues. I don't Hate the color scheme, but I also don't love it. And I think this feels a lot more like Musa yknow? Also darkened her hair cause fuck that dude

Anyway lol it's not the best edit so don't look too hard :') I just wanted to explore what I liked about the designs and what I didn't. We did get to see a little bit of Bloom's casual, but I want to wait until we get a closer look to speak on it/make edits. Also tbh, I don't really love Flora's outfit but I didn't want to completely redesign her and I concede that this is something she would wear (although it feels more like s4 cowgirl time/s5 casual and not s1 new student time but Fine). For now, I'm gonna pretend the trailer showed us my edit of Stella and not what it really showed. I can't get pale pinterest stella out of my head,,, aggghhhh

[icewindandboringhorror]

It's always interesting to hear about people's weird/unexpected "alternate life paths". Like, something that you could have done with your life, a job you almost took, a school you almost went to, etc - that was still actually realistic enough that it could have happened, but NOW it seems to not suit your current personality.

Like for example, I currently hate advertising (how manipulative it is, brands trying to be 'relatable', social media amplifying it to an obnoxious extreme, etc.) so much that even seeing a little ad before a youtube video is grating to even witness, but there was a point in time where I was genuinely seriously considering going into marketing/making commercials as a career lol. Or like, I have a relative who was very inclined to be a pastor when they were younger, even though today they're a super strong atheist, etc. etc.

[starrysharks]

every art critic, teacher or tutorial maker who tells you that your character designs must be conventionally attractive or appealing is a big fat liar

[tetrachromate]

not enough people are talking about how anthology of the killer ends with bb and zz achieving (or at least attempting to achieve) gnosis

[rxttenfish]

one of the things that particularly pisses me off about art discussions, either in how nowadays everything has to aim for more and more realism in art styles and even live action to be seen as "real art", and in dismissing more abstract styles of artwork as not "real art" and having no inherent worth, is that they explicitly do not consider realism an art style either. to them, realism is just a given of "good" art, not chosen but rather just default. which i hate, because you CAN pick realism as an intentional style and a purposeful choice to suit a narrative, and all this results in is no one noticing or understanding why you made that choice or why that choice works better than any other possible choice to tell the story you want to tell.

[montanabohemian]

i just watched this video on youtube about a $12 million dollar house and while it was in fact stunning, the thing i couldn't get past was the fact that every single bedroom had their own washer and dryer. and i'm like, if i spend $12 million on an enormous house, i ain't doing laundry in my own fucking room. no way. there will be an entire room dedicated to that thank you very much. like what the fuck. you spent 11 years building this stunning chateau-like house and you give each bedroom that?! i don't know man, rich people are weird.

still want the house tho. hahahahaha. where's my rich sugar daddy when i need him.

[timeisacephalopod]

I saw a post like, awhile ago now that was mad about "like shaming" because people obviously would like Tumblr to function like Tumblr and not like Instagram or Twitter (no I will Not call it That) and it's like breh. If you see "reblog stuff because that's how this site works" and you get offended enough to call it "like shaming" then go back to a site where likes actually spread shit around instead of whining people would like you to use Tumblr as intended. Fucking "like shaming" no, for the last like seven years on this site the existing user base has repeatedly had to explain how Tumblr works and instead of just using the damn site that way you whine about like shaming??? If you want to use a like based social site then get off tumblr- like obviously you don't even like it here if you cannot use the site as intended without it being "shaming" to you??

[youve-always-had-me-cas]

The Reddit blackout is really funny because I fucking hate Reddit, I can't stand it, I will rant about the flaws in Reddit's Moderation system at the drop of a hat and as someone who used to mod a >300k subreddit believe me there are so, so many of them, but finally the admins of the website who have been profiting off the unpaid impossible labour mandated of their moderators by the structure of their website for years are getting the exact same treatment mods get every day. Your users are demanding an impossible thing of you. They hate you. They hate you. They want what you are offering them but their sense of justice is irreparably skewed and they will not listen to a single thing you have to say anymore. But unlike the people stuck trying to hold a community together under these absurd constraints they do not control you made this horrid mob of people and fostered this culture for decades this is entirely one hundred percent your fault.

[soloh]

I love buying gifts for people and feeling confident that they'll like them, but now I have my own new bar that I've set, because I came up with the idea for what my siblings and I were gonna mum for mother's day, and designed it and everything, and she liked it so much it's now her Facebook profile picture