#life is so fucking boring and pointless like this :(((

[stardustpr1ncess]

Desperately trying to get the words out in order to articulate why I really don't like what they did with Arcane season 2 but, I just keep wanting to say "not good." Like at one point I audibly yelled; "WHAT THE FUCK IS GOING ON?" but not in an amazed way, in a really fucking annoyed way. May break it up into multiple posts because this is taking longer to process than the other acts.

So... I guess the most encompassing problem is the scope just became WAY too big. The first season, despite having Lean that can turn you into a giant purple monster and magic-powered weapons, was very grounded in its #1 plot #2 locations and #3 characters. Let's discuss what season 2 did with each of these categories.

"The" plot. There's too many of them at this point, barely related to each other, and not enough fucks to go around for each one. The main plot however, would I guess be Viktor and the Glorious Evolutions™.

Firstly the floating in space shots to represent his conciseness connected to everyone's and how he's so ascended looks stupid and boring. Just straight up, they're silly to look at. Secondly the concept that he's now using some unknowable cosmic power to make all life a hive mind that will infect and destroy the planet along with turn everyone into the coolest looking mannequin is just so... WHY?! Like if I told you that's the s2 a3 climax 3 years ago you'd spit in my face (would not wipe it towards my mouth like Caitlyn tho that absolute horndog). The show was a political dispute between an oppressed city who wanted independence from a really wealthy and powerful city. Now it's for the sake of not only the world but like, EVERY REALITY NOW?!

Gonna try to make the other 2 points quicker but fuck there's so much going on.

Locations. Season 1 had Zaun, Piltover, and essentially just mentions of Noxus. Season 2 we have MULTIPLE DIMENSIONS MOTHERFUCKERS WOOOOOOOOO! Look I'm sorry if these points are articulated a lot worse than my prior essays but I'm running out of ways to say it's dumb because it's stupid lol. Within 7 episodes after the (probable) start of a civil war between 2 cities... There's now an infinite number of realities. Just the most insane stake raising they could've done, with a season not even 10 episodes long.

Too many characters for this post so again I'll focus on Viktor since he's now the main antagonist and, protagonist? Him being the wizard that saves Jayce, along with EVERY Jayce in EVERY reality, is simply something that did not need part of the budget put towards it. Genuinely just, the wizard did not need fleshing out. The multiverse in a contained 2 season show did not need to be this crucial last second. This is like if Optimus Prime showed up in season 3 of Avatar, it's just so pointless and diminishing of the story that came before.

So yeah needless to say, I thought this season was terrible. But hey, I'll probably buy the steelbook anyway.

Thank you for reading.

[mummer]

they could never EVER neverrrrrr ever ever do this even ryan condal would never cede such an “iconic” setpiece & “memorable” dialogue and even if he wanted to HBO simply would not allow it but in my minds eye ideal hotd adaptation of the battle of the gods eye completely discards EVERYTHING supposedly recounted/editorialized in fire and blood no anime dialogue no ultra choreographed fight scene no cinematic beautiful shots of the dragons dancing no leaping from dragon to dragon its actually like incredibly fast and loud and incomprehensible to the audience just beasts colliding and ripping each other apart dirt and blood and horrific and disgusting and ultimately super SUPER pathetic ❤️ daemon and aemond dont get to make any epic last stands theres no glorious blaze out, no chilling last words, no grand narrative, in the end it really is just two men thudding to the bottom of a lake and getting eaten by fish. make the craziest climax in the world an anticlimax. ultimate antimoment

[meme-loving-stuck]

one reason i make it a point to only follow queer artists who are non-theists, agnostic, or atheist is because it's almost fucking impossible now to find cool, weird art that isnt "biblically accurate angels omg!!" or "white historical figure/roman statue with top surgery scars wowwww"

[scottstiles]

its so fucking awful to be a kid person with no kids of my own 

[unhinged-nymph]

.

[playingonedchess]

urgh why is it still so hot

[thema-nr-2]

im so sorry if i start spamming you with requests 💔💔 anywaays dom 2010 bill maybe?? with like an f reader you can ddcide like the plot n shit i dont wanna control you 🙏🙏

just you wait til i get you home - b.k

✮ synopsis - you and bill are at dinner with your friends and you take the time to tease him under the table. Pissed off, bill makes you suck him off in the bathroom.

✮ genre - smut

✮ word count - 2.2k

✮ content warning - nsfw, fem!sub!reader, dom!2010!bill, semi public freakiness 👅, slight choking if you squint, praise, oral (m!receiving) cum swallowing idfk, gagging, teasing, bills mad pissed at y/n 😞, use of pet names, let me know if i missed anything

✮ 1 request out of 3 done, thank fuck… 2 more fics coming soon guys trust 😭 (ive already started the 2nd one) bonus points if anyone can recognise the lyrics in the tittle

“Why can’t we just stay inside tonight, Bill? I don’t wanna go out!” You whined as you held up your dress in front of the mirror, debating whether or not to put it on.

“As much as I’d love to, schatz, we were invited to this dinner.” Bill started. “We can’t say no just because we don’t feel like it. That’s not fair on our friends.” Blah blah blah..

“But-“

“No buts, Y/N!”

You slumped down on the edge of the bed and watched as your boyfriend buttoned his shirt up. He didn’t look too keen on going out to dinner either. Reluctantly, you slid out of your comfy pyjamas and put on the dress that you had been so eager to wear. Just not tonight. You admired yourself in the mirror for a minute, checking yourself out. It really was a beautiful dress. And Bill had picked it out just for you. Sleek, black, silk hugged your figure perfectly. It was practically tailored for you. You were under the idea that you could easily distract Bill with just a few touches. And when you looked like that? Surely…

“Wouldn’t it be so much easier if we just… called in sick?“ You began, speaking in a slow tone. You walk up behind Bill, wrapping your arms around his waist and fidgeting with the buttons on his shirt. You started to unbutton them one by one, but unfortunately, Bill wasn’t in the mood to put up with your antics as he pushed your hands right off him.

“Easier, maybe. But that doesn’t mean it’s right. Now hurry up and finish getting ready. We need to be there by 6.”

—

You knew it was risky. A dangerous game to be playing, yet you were willing to risk it all just for the result. But you knew it was over for you once you met Bill's gaze and saw that look his eyes. A look that either said “I’m gonna kill you when we get home” or “I’m gonna ruin you when we get home”. Nonetheless, the thrill had you soaked already.

Bill’s breath hitched in his throat as he felt your hand caress his thigh underneath the table, getting recklessly close to his crotch. He shot you a subtle glare, which only landed him a proud smile from you. Fortunately for him, nobody noticed. Yet. It was your mission to get him as worked up as possible, to the point where he couldn’t contain it and had to get up and leave. (And obviously take you with him)

You spent the evening making pointless conversation with your work friends, small talk about work and how life was going. Really nothing interesting, and the lack of stimuli was driving you insane. You had let Bill eat and talk in peace for about an hour and a half before you began to feel bored again. Both of you had finished your meals so it’s not like you had anything else to do besides tease him again. As you two let out forced laughs at your friend’s unfunny jokes, you subtly placed your hand on his thigh again, rubbing it gently. Bill didn’t seem to take too much notice of it, which was good. It meant you could get away with more, easier. You smirked to yourself as your hand started to palm him through his tight jeans, this was where Bill finally started to notice what you were up to. He turned to you, not with an angry expression but with a confused one. You felt as he started to get hard in your hands, and you continued to palm him, ever so subtly slipping your hand underneath his jeans and rubbing his now slightly clothed dick. Bill let out a cough to cover up the moan he almost let slip, a bit of an unrealistic one unfortunately.

“Fuck’s wrong with you?” A friend asked.

“Nothing. I’m fine.” He said bluntly, never once taking his eyes off you. You simply giggled and continued to rub him over his boxers under the table. Beads of sweat started to form on his brow as it began harder and harder to hide what was going on. He shifted in his seat uncomfortably and covered his mouth, removing himself from the conversation as best he could. Before long, it was too difficult to stay quiet, he had let you get away with too much. Out of nowhere, Bill pulled your hand out of his pants, and stood up.

“I’m not feeling too well, I’m gonna head to the bathroom…” He said, somewhat nonchalantly. Your friends gave him a weird look of disbelief, then they turned to you with the same expression. You watched as Bill walked away. He looked behind him and made direct eye contact with you. Though he didn’t say anything, you could tell he wanted to follow him. And that there’d be bigger problems if you didn’t.

“Uh, I’m gonna go check on him..” You said nervously as you excused yourself from your seat. Your heart was racing as you caught up to Bill, who hadn’t yet entered the bathroom. As soon as you got close enough to him, he seized your wrist tightly and dragged you into a stall, locking the door behind him. Thankfully nobody was in the bathroom at the same time as you guys. Once the door was locked, Bill slammed you up against the bathroom stall door, pinning your hands to each side of your head as his lips attached themselves to your neck. You let out a gasp of pleasure as he began to suck harshly on the sensitive part of your neck. After a minute, he pulled away, admiring the hickies he had left.

“What’s got you so worked up, huh?” You asked sarcastically.

“You think you’re fuckin funny? So fuckin clever?” Bill said, his pent up anger clear in his tone

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” You batted your eyelashes innocently at him, hoping to gain some sort of ease.

Bill’s eyes narrowed at you as his hand moved up to wrap gently around your throat. “Don’t play dumb with me, Y/N.” He whispered, his fingers tightening around your throat the more he talked. “You think teasing me back there in front of our friends, and total strangers was funny? Is this all because I wouldn’t let us stay home tonight? I nearly fucking blew it thanks to you.”

Bill pressed his body against you as you tried to squirm free of his grasp. “Stop struggling, slut. You wanted this.” He growled under his breath as he held you firmly in place. Once you had stopped moving, you looked at the floor anxiously, the regret from teasing him already setting in. Bill grabbed your chin and forced you to look up at him. “On your knees. Now.” He ordered. You immediately complied, not wanting to piss him off any more. Bill smirked proudly as he watched you sink to your knees in front of him. You wasted no time to undo his belt and pull his jeans down along with his boxers, where you could see stains of precum. Part of you was rather pleased with how your teasing really did a number on him. Even though you hadn’t done much. You took his cock in your hands, gently kissing the tip while pumping him ever so slightly.

“Think about teasing me for another minute and I swear you’ll regret it.” His words sent shivers down your spine. You trembled beneath him as you finally took him into your mouth, gaining a guttural moan from Bill. He leaned against the stall door, tilting his head back. “Mmm, that’s it, baby. Good girl..” He groaned.

You bobbed your head up and down his dick, slowly building a steady pace. But it seemed like Bill wasn’t having it. He grabbed a fistfull of your hair, turning it into a makeshift ponytail for him to pull your head down. You gagged as you felt his tip reach the back of your throat, and his balls hit your chin slightly. You rested your hands on Bill’s thighs for support, dragging your nails down his pale skin. Even after deepthroating him, Bill didn’t let you go. He kept your hair gripped firmly in his fist, controlling your rhythm completely. You let out a muffled whine as you tried to come up for air, which only gained you a scowl from the man looking down at you.

“Who said you could stop, huh?” He snapped. He raised his eyebrow, waiting for your pathetic response.

“I just-” You stuttered as you began to speak, however you were swiftly cut off by Bill forcing your head back down onto his throbbing dick. It caught you by such surprise, you felt tears piercing the corners of your eyes.

“You’re crying now? I thought you could take it. Aren’t you my good girl?” He queried, raising his eyebrow. You nodded rapidly as you moved your head along with the rhythm Bill had forced upon you. He moaned out soft praises as he felt you swirl your tongue around him, every now and then grazing it over his slit. You felt him twitch in your mouth, his orgasm catching up to him. “Scheiße, liebe..” Bill felt his knees begin to weaken as he got closer. He savoured every second of your warm mouth around his cock, savoured every muffled sob from you, every choked moan.

Tears fell down your cheeks, not only from how much you were trying not to gag, (and failing) but from now hard Bill was pulling on your hair. Your knees began to ache from the cold, hard, bathroom floor. They’d surely be bruised the next morning. And you were sure the floor had torn a small hole in one of your knee high socks. Which was a shame, they were quite pretty.

“Fuck, gonna cum, baby…” Bill moaned, barely getting his words out. “And you better fucking swallow…” You felt the hair on the back of your neck stand at his demand. He was so hot when he was like this. Dominant and commanding. You wished he would be like this more often, even if it meant week long aches in your throat, legs, or back. Bill threw his head back with one final, loud moan as he released his hot cum down your throat. You whined, doing your best not to let a single drop waste. You adored his taste. You swallowed as much of him as you could. After you pulled off his dick, you continued to lick his slit, gathering the rest of his cum. Once you were done you looked up to see your boyfriend's expression of approval.

Bill smiled warmly as he gave you a light pat on the head. “Atta girl.” He praised. “You did so well for me, took my dick so fuckin good.”

You panted heavily, taking in as much air as you could. Bill’s taste lingered in the back of your throat and on your tongue, the last thing you were about to do was complain about that.

Bill reached out a hand to help pull you up. He looked down at your knees and frowned. You were confused about what he seemed so sad about, until you looked down yourself to see the very prominent tear in your right sock. Guess you were right.

“And they were the ones you bought me, too…” You grimaced.

“It’s okay, schatzi, I’ll buy you a new pair. Or you can keep wearing them to remind yourself of what a slut you were for me tonight.” He smirked.

You blushed profusely at his comment, somewhat enjoying that idea.

“Do you think our friends are gonna be suspicious when we go back out…” You reluctantly asked.

Bill sighed, remembering what they were doing in a public bathroom in the first place. He scratched the back of his neck in disappointment. “Yeah, most likely. You got an excuse?”

“To make up for your flushed face and my bruised knees? Not a clue.”

He giggled. Bill led you out of the stall, making sure nobody was lurking. You had a glance at yourself in the mirror, and after seeing the state of disarray your hair was in and about $60 worth of makeup smudged across your face from where you had cried, you realised you two were both definitely fucked.

AHHH i’m sorry this was so ass i’m not used to writing for sub reader 🤧 hopefully it wasn’t gut wrenchingly bad though!! i’m so sorry to keep people who have requested waiting but i’m juggling a lot right now so i haven’t had the time or motivation to do anything productive in the last month 😝😝

[adoregojo]

he doesn't realise how lonely he is.

the birds nagging on the early morning was freaking annoying and made him wanted to block the window ten times more. he hated how his breakfast tasted, he added to much salt and now he keeps grimacing at every bite. the usual black stray cat on his doorstep keeps greeting him every morning, and all he could find to reply to it meowing was a frown. sunny days were nothing but a pain, the bright light hitting his face as if it was forcing him to like it. how vexing.

the difference shape of flowers peeking out from the next door store brings him nothing of a sense of joy, if anything he wanted to stay away from it due to it attracting the bugs. his coworkers never talk to him, not like he wants to talk to him. he never looked them in the eyes anyway.

he can clearly hear them, their whispers -that were too loud for him to hear- about him being likely an old grumpy grandpa in disguise, they even made bets on if he would smile one day. it didn't hurt him, he couldn't gave a good fuck for it, he just wanted this day to end so he could go home and never have to see anyone.

he doesn't take his shoes off when he's in the apartment, it was too much of a hassle and he doesn't get any visitors anyway. there's barely any food in his fridge, mostly leftovers. he just eats to survive another day. watching pointless tv shows that never truly entertained him, in fact he found them boring but as long as they kept him busy he didn't care.

winter was too cold, summer was too hot, autumn was stressful, and spring gets him a sick problems all the time.

he truly doesn't know where to enjoy anything in life.

well, until he met you.

all of a sudden, the birds melody doesn't sound so bad, so he opens the window for some fresh air. he stared to put afford in making breakfast, not his usual too slaty eggs it is now a fluffy pancakes with your guidance as you embraced him from behind. they weren't perfect, but the pleased noises you make after every bite made him proud. of course he doesn't forget to feed your cat, the same black cat that he claimed it was nothing but a bad luck.

he didn't realise of how much of a neighbours he had till he started coping how you greeted them, it was nice when they started sending you guys food. especially when you liked them and sometimes they'll send his favourite.

sunny days were welcomed now. especially when the bright light would hit on your skin causing a reflection that's making you a walking glowing star. maybe he liked the sun a bit now.

he made progress on talking back to him coworkers, instead of the silent treatment he actually looked at them knowledge them. he actually started looking at them when they speak to him because you told him it was rude not to. soon he was invited to lunch with them where he would show off his bento box you made for him, he was glad the whispers disappeared. he didn't get how much it bothered him till now.

the owner of the flower shop who was an old lady was now a common person he had to see every week, she remarked he was her most loyal client. he received a tones of advice and recommended flowers as well pinching his cheek as a farewell message. needless to say he always tried coming home -he stopped calling it an apartment- to you without an empty hand, having your favourite pair of flowers was a must now. as well taking off his shoes and putting it directly next to yours, this was it right place.

rethinking it now, winter may be still cold but at least he got the scarf you got for him warped up to his neck, if he buried his nose in the soft fur he could smell your cologne -a reason why it was his favourite one- summer was perfect for you two picnic dates, and every time he could kneel down and thank the sun for making you so blazing and sparkly.

autumn was where you would count the crunchy golden leaves, you sometimes warped yourself around it as if it was snow. it was his favourite memory since it made his heart beating fast. and in the end you were his spring, where his love would bloom for you again and again.

restaurants weren't a waste of money and time now. he has a prefers show and it was the one that made you laugh until the tears formed in your eyes, he honestly doesn't find them as funny but it makes you smile so he didn't care.

life stopped being meaningless afterwards, and he could finally say that he enjoyed living as long as it was beside you.

nagi, rin, sae, toji, choso, ushijima, kenma, diluc. kei, sakusa. you favs!

[loveandpeaceanddoughnuts]

Gojo Satoru couldn’t stand you. He couldn’t bear the faint smell of your shampoo in the stairwell you’d just left, the sound of your laughter disappearing around the corner.

He’d started excusing himself from staff meetings at school, much to the fury of the higher-ups. But he quite literally couldn’t be in the same room with you. Not after what he’d done.

The strongest sorcerer started letting his Infinity slip, hoping you’d brush against him in the hallway just so he could feel you again.

He got sloppy on missions, ending up on Shoko’s operating table more and more often. The last time, forced back into consciousness by her technique and a lungful of secondhand smoke, she had called him on it.

“Are you trying to get yourself killed, Satoru? You think that’s going to bring them back?” He took so long to answer that she started to worry he’d passed back out.

“I know it won’t.” His ocean-blue eyes were an abyss. “But then it wouldn’t hurt anymore.”

Gojo knew he hardly had the right to say it. You had only had one request of him when you got together, one thing that worried you about getting involved with him and his reputation. And he had blown it all up.

It didn’t matter that it was his first love, his high-school ex that he never really got over. It didn’t even matter that he had a good excuse when it came down to it. You had caught Gojo with his tongue down someone else’s throat, and ended it on the spot.

So he dragged himself and his self-pity around campus, half-heartedly instructing the first years when he wasn’t busy volunteering for suicide missions.

You kept your broken heart well-hidden, quietly requesting a transfer to Kyoto at the end of this semester. You looked right through him when you couldn’t avoid him entirely, and found empty bathroom stalls to cry in afterward.

+++++++++++++++++

You had carefully planned your escape, steadily sending your belongings on to the Kyoto school and distancing yourself from the administration of the Tokyo campus for the past few weeks. Now moving day was here, a one-way ticket clutched in your hand. It felt both impossible and inevitable.

No one was there to see you off, as requested. Your closest friends would come visit and everyone else didn’t care much either way.

Except for the person you were running from.

You felt him before you saw him, his Six Eyes boring into you from across the station. His snow-white hair was scruffy, sticking up like he’d been pulling at it. Dark sunglasses hid his shadowed eyes.

“Gojo? What the fuck are you doing here?” You knew he could hear your harsh whisper from where he stood.

“Gojo, huh? Ouch.” He crossed the room in a blink, pushing up his glasses to show off an exaggerated wince, one eye scrunched shut. “That hurts.”

“Good. You should know how it feels. Now if you don’t mind, I have a train to catch.” You tried to step around him, but he easily mirrored you.

“It doesn’t leave for another ten minutes. Can we talk?”

“Talk? Talk about what, asshole? How your ex tasted?” A pointless shove against his broad chest.

Gojo caught your wrists in one hand. “Please.”

You made the mistake of eye contact, taking a half-step closer, and your heart broke open all over again. He was so beautiful, so desperate, his vulnerability a halo. The wound you had tried to cauterize with space and silence flared back to agonizing life.

He sensed your hesitation- he knew all your weaknesses- and used the opportunity to pull you into his arms. “I’m so sorry. So, so sorry, you have no idea…” murmured apologies into your hair.

“Fuck you,” you said to his chest.

“I know, baby.” A shaky laugh. “I know.”

Against all your instincts, the longing to melt into his embrace, you stepped back. “Satoru…” you did your best to ignore the hope in his face when you used that name. “You can’t expect me to forget what you’ve done.”

“I don’t! I swear. Just please, don’t run away from this. From us. I can’t lose you.” He still held your wrists, your pulses knocking against each other.

“You already did.”

He lets go, off balance, like you’d punched him in the gut. Your train doors are opening and you’re turning away, not before you catch the shine of tears in his blue, blue eyes.

You’re sorry too, so goddamn sorry, but you’re stepping off the platform and there’s nothing left to say, even if you had the time to say it.

The doors close indifferently, your world cleaved in two. Before and after, inside and out. You turn back, watching him shrink into nothing as you pull out of the station. He watches you disappear for much, much longer.

[romana-after-dark]

Don't You Worry Your Pretty Little Mind

DBF!Joel Miller x Fem!reader

Sugar Daddy Joel, No outbreak

Masterlist : Taglist

Summary: You need money for next semester. Luckily, your dad's rich friend's eyes follow you were ever you go, and he thinks you're such a good girl.

Warning: DUB CON VIA BRAINWASHING AND MANIPULATION: The sex is v consentual, the breeding is worn down. Breeding kink, age gap (30 ish years), Joel's obsession with gender rolls. The gender rolls and sentiments expressed by Joel and eventually reader are not mine. You do not need to be a mother or wife or care for children to be a good girl. Joel is controlling and manipulates reader away from friends and keeps her financially in the blind but he does not hurt her. If you like this and are okay with DARK DARK DARK you might like The Wrong Way on my masterlist bc Joel housewifes little one up. Cream pie, fingering, oral, but its not super smutty. Most is implied.

Immersability: Joel can pick up reader, reader can have kids theoretically.

This born of me being under extream stress rn and wanting all my thoughts out of my head.

*******************************

Joel was broad, sweaty, and all consuming over you.

His thrusts were growing erratic, sloppy, but that was okay; he’d made you cum 4 times already, so it was his turn. You had no idea how someone his age had so much stamina while you got winded walking up a flight of stairs, but were too tired to think much further on it. As it was, you were falling asleep as his rhythmic thrust rocked you. It wasn’t that you were bored, it was that you were completely and totally wrecked. Spent. Fucked to sleep.

“Please baby, please? I need to cum inside you, need to make you mine.”

“I am yours.” You insisted quietly, fucked out head unable to stay up and nodding to the side. You needed sleep. 

Joel continues to grunt, to plead with you. “Not yet, not until you’re stuffed full of my cum, not until your belly swells with my baby…”

*

It was supposed to be one time. You were so, so close to having enough money for another semester of college… but not enough. You’d been late on payments so often your school required it upfront for you now, and you were just short.

“Hey hun, you alright?” Joel let himself into your family’s home. He had a key right now, with your parents vacationing in Europe the last couple months and gave Joel a key to watch over things. To watch over you. 

You check yourself in the mirror once again, everything needed to be perfect, so you shout down the hall.  “One moment, sorry!”

“Take your time, darl’n.”

Re-apply lipstick. Wait, no, too much lipstick. It’s too try hard, take some off. Fuck you smugged it! Touch out your cover up, then the lipstick again. FUCK ITS TOO MUCH! Oh fucking well, your were whoring yourself out, might as well look like one. Straighten your dress. Tits out.

You tried to act casual. It wasn’t unusual to see you dressed up for dinner, your parents were big on dressing for dinner especially when guests were over, and Joel had been a friend guest. Him and your dad were close friends ever since your dad represented Joel in his divorce, getting him full custody of Sarah. It ended up being pointless anyway, as his ex-wife stopped taking Sarah for her weekends a year into the divorce. Sarah had been just a pawn for her, but Joel loved her, taking care of everything she needed for college. His business had taken off, moving from not only construction to full on housing and property developments, so he had paid for her college and was paying for her dream wedding as well. You were invited, although you’d only met her a few times. Your parents, despite their success, had no interest in helping you with college when you rejected pre-law in favor of early childhood development, so you’d been paying your own way.

Joel had defended your life choices when your dad attempted to publicly embarrass you, your dad stating that you ‘don’t fucking listen’ and were an ungratful, disobidiant brat at a dinner party, but Joel wouldn’t hear it. He said you were ‘a good girl’, and that it was a beautiful thing to see a woman who cares about children, still in this world. He praised your efforts and your determination.

“Thank you for coming, Joel.”

Joel stands as you enter the room. “Of course, a pretty girl invites me to dinner, how could I say no? Everything's alright here, no one’s giving you any trouble are they?”

“Yes, everything is good, thank you.”

“Anything need fixing while I’m here?”

“No, thank you. Come on, diners ready.”

You lead him to the kitchen, and you don’t miss the way his eyes trail down as you pass. This is what you were counting on.

Joel was quick to praise your food, not holding back on compliments. “This is delicious, sweetheart, you really got a skill here.” and “You’ll make some man very happy one day.”

That last one made you swell with pride. You were happy he thought of you as wife material. What you were about to do wasn’t very “good girl” of you, however. Joel always called you a good girl, while your dad thought for sure you were taking an ‘easier’ major to allow more time for partying. You wanted Joel to think you were good. 

After dinner, you and Joel sat down with coffee and a cherry crumble, smoothing your dress over the couch. Conversation was light, easy. It was always easy with Joel, despite him making you nervous. He was just so fucking handsome, so fucking strong, and the way he talked about sarah with a twinkle in his eye… you know he was a good dad, a loving dad. The few times you met Sarah, Joel always took care of her even in adulthood. He gave her gas money she never asked for, told her she looked beautiful, and his face always beamed with pride when he looked at his daughter. He always hugged her goodbye, even if he’d see her tomorrow. Your father hadn’t hugged you in years.

“Is there a reason you brought me here tonight?” Joel asked, sipping his black coffee with a bit of splenda in it, a splash of the dark liquid remaining on his mustache until he dabbed it away.

You squirm a bit in your seat. “Well, yes, actually. Not that I don’t enjoy your company!” Was your fast addendum.

Joel chuckled, smiling into his mug. “Don’t worry sweetheart, I ain’t one of those old men that have delusions of pretty young girls wanting to spend time with them.”

“That’s not it!” You stand quickly, fluttering over to where he sat on the couch and plopping down. “I swear, Mr. Miller, if you say no, I’d want you to stay and finish dessert, I enjoy spending time with you, just as we are.”

*

Joel was struggling more and more to stave off his orgasm, but he needed this. He couldn’t just cum in you, although you wouldn’t resist and he doubted you’d throw a fit. He had you too wrapped around his finger by now. Young, sweet, naive thing that you were… but Joel needed you to want this too, Joel needed a life with you at his side, his pretty wife, mother of his children… starting tonight.

“Joel, nooooo…” You mutter, tired and worn out. He made sure to get you like this; compliant. “I have to finish school, Joel…” 

*

“Sweetheart, it’s okay. Just tell me what you need, I’m sure we can work something out.”

You wring your hands in your lap, suddenly aware of your proximity to him. He smelled like leather and sandalwood. 

“Well, as you know I’m in school…”

He nodded, setting down his drink. “That’s right, Early Childhood isn’t it?”

That made you light up, turning to actually look at him and finding his kind eyes on you. “Yes! I can’t believe you remembered!”

“I remember your dad ranting about it. I told him he shouldn’t have been surprised, good girl like you, wanting to take care of children.”

You nod quickly. “Yes exactly! My school offers a minor in special needs which I added too.” You were happy with his approval of your choice and added that fact on to make you seem more noble. This was a good cause he was investing in. You were a good girl who wanted to help children.

“My oh my, darl’n…” Joel mused. “You really are a sweetheart, aren’t you? Now, what can I do to aid such a valiant effort.”

“Well, school starts this month and I’m close, I’m so, so close to having enough but even with the overtime, it’d looking like I’ll be short about $500 for tuition, and then there’s books and supplies and-”

“Now wait a minute, little lady.” Joel held up a hand, and for a moment you’re disheartened and think he’s about to reject your ask before it’s even out, but his furrowed brow is for another reason. “Your daddy ain’t help’n you pay for school?”

“No sir… not since I refused to go to pre-law.”

“Well that ain’t right… I know how much he makes, he can pay for a few months in Europe but not your school? Fathers are supposed to take care of their daughters.” He looked genuinely disappointed.

Shrugging, you chuckle nervously. “Well, I suppose he doesn’t think it’s very useful, so he doesn’t want to pay for it.”

* 

“You graduate before the second semester.”

“But my dad”

“I’ll handle your dad”

“What about Sarah?”

“I’ll handle Sarah.”

“But the money-”

Joel stopped, mid trust, his cock buried inside you and trying his best to stave off his orgasm. 

“Sweetheart… Don’t you know I want to marry you?”

*

Joel had known Mike wasn’t the most attentive father, but he never thought it was this bad. He always thought you were a good girl, kind hearted and calm, empathetic and caring. It had only been this last year that he’d begun to see you as something more, something seductive, yes, someone who he thought about fisting his cock at those lonely nights, but, that wasn’t the full picture either. You were a caretaker… Maternal. 

“That’s fuck’n stupid.” Joel countered, bluntly. “Take’n care of children, that’s the most important job on earth, why, your daddy should but thrilled to have such a nurturing daughter!” His voice was raised just a bit, but not at you. Didn’t your dad see what a prize he had? A woman like that, well, you were of high value. You were a treasure. His bitch of an ex wife never really wanted to be a mother, he knew that now, just like his mother. They had Sarah because that’s what you did when you were married in the 90’s. Joel fell in love immediately… she never really attached, and much like his mother wasn’t mentally present on the rare occasion she was physically… Well, his ex-wife lasted longer than his mother did, anyway. You would never leave your child like that. You would never leave him like that. “Whadya need, sweetheart.”

Your fidgeting continues. “Well… $1000… but… It’s not a loan, I was hoping to… to sell you something.”

Interesting… you had his complete attention, whatever you needed, it was yours. $1000 was nothing, and he’d much sure such a good girl had everything she needed… you deserved it. 

“Whatever it it, darling girl, I’ll buy.”

He saw you taking a deep breath, hesitating at first before standing up and walking in front of him. You looked stunning in your red dress, an absolute marvel.

With a deep breath and hands folded in front of you., you answered what you were selling.

“Me.”

*

“W-what?” You were suddenly awake again, snapping back to reality at his words. “No, no Joel you’re just saying that…”

Joel shook his head. “I wouldn’t like about that, baby. C’mon, you gotta know how badly I want to marry you. You're my good girl. We’d be so happy together, just you and me…” A large, splaying hand on your bare belly. “And our baby…”

*

Joel stands up, walking over to you and towering his body over yours. “Sweetheart, do you know what you're asking?”

You look up at him and nod. “I do, Joel. Please know I understand what I’m doing.”

He shakes his head. “No, darling girl I’ll just give you the $1000, you don’t have to-”

“I want to.” You eyes shined at him, timid but attempting to look sure. “I can’t just take a hand out.”

“You can-” He reached for his wallet, but you grab his hands.

“I can’t. Joel…” You slide up to him, pressing your body too his. “I’ve seen the way you look at me… I look at you like that too.”

Reaching a hand up, Joel cups your face. “Baby…” He groans, erection growing in his pants already at the thought. “I don’t think I can do this just once… you gotta know that, don’t you? Special girl like yourself…” His eyes darted to your lips, cherry red and beautiful and oh-so inviting. 

You look down at his shirt as you behind to feel up his chest. Firm muscles of hard work under the softness of age. “Well, maybe… since my dad won’t help me…” You wriggle your pelvis against his, taunting him before looking up at his brown eyes again.  “We can come up with an arrangement?”

Joel was holding on by a thread. “Yeah? You gonna let me take care of you?” His thumb on your face spreads to your mouth, and when it prods are your lips, you open eagerly. Keeping eye contact with his brown orbs gone black, your nod and suck, the message clear. Yes sir.

“Fuck…” Joel mumbles his mouth encasing yours in a harsh, hard kiss and scooping you up with ease, only to lay you down on the couch. Your red dress splays and russles as he does, bending your knees so it slides down to your hips. When you make an attempt to remove the dress, rough hands stop you. “Keep the dress on.”

Your black tights, however, were ripped open to reveal white lacy underwear. “Uh fuuuuck..;. So beautiful…” He marvels at your pussy, so perfectly groomed for him. Falling to his knees on the floor, Joel mouths over the clothed core, his breath adding to the heat as he explored you. 

“You don’t have to-”

“I know damn well I don’t.” Joel snaps. “I don’t want to, sweetheart, I need to.”

With that, Joel ripped off your underwear with two hands and dived into you. He couldn’t help but palm himself over his pants as he did. You just tasted too good, and he was a starved man.

*

His thrusts continued, but with a different rhythm this time. Eyes sharply on yours, he drew back slowly but thrusting in hard. Slowly, hard. Less slow, more harder. Less slow… you were going to come again, eyes never leaving his for a moment. 

“Everything you ever need, everything you ever want, I’ll take care of. I’ll provide for you, I’ll love you, protect you, I’ll care for you… only thing you ever need to do is take care of me and this baby, okay? That’s it.”

You were dizzy, you were worn, you were on the precipice of climax and you were in love.

“Okay.”

His eyes light up, a smile spreading on his face. “Yeah, baby? You lett’n me fill you up?”

Joel knew you were ovulating. Of course he did. Joel tracked your periods to make sure he always knew what you needed. Heating pads, tea for bloating, pads and tampons and cups. He said he wanted to know so that he could take care of you emotionally.

Of course he knew when you were ovulating.

*

The next two hours were a blur of bliss, Joel taking care of all your needs, physical, sexual, even emotional.

At the end, a $2000 check was written in your name and a tender kiss on the head as he parted as well as plans between you to for next time.

For the next several months, ‘next time’ became more and more frequent, more and more demanding but a higher and higher price. Joel began to take care of it all. Your apartment, your food, every single need or want was handled by Joel, and in return every free moment was spent with him. You didn’t desire to see your friends. They just wanted to party. But you, you were serious about your passions. You were serious about helping people. Joel may have mentioned it once or twice when your grades were getting worse, suggesting instead of studying with them, you study at his place. He’d keep you on track. Quickly, your grades improved, and you began studying with Joel more and more. You eventually just stayed with him. 

It was like a dream, you had everything you needed, including Joel who whispered his love to you every chance he had. Joel took care of you in the way your father never did, Joel filled those gaps he left.

Joel took away every in convenience. He told you when your friends weren’t good for you, he cooked for you on late nights, he even began making appointments and getting your car fixed. Your parents were none the wiser, but you began to care less what they thought. Only Joel mattered, and the children. Joel took away every worry for you, and all you had to think about was making him happy, and what to do with your upcoming degree. 

*

“Yes Joel.” You whine, desperate to please him, desperate to remain his everything as he is yours. “Wanna be your wife, wanna have your babies, please?”

“Oh fuck,” He panted, holding on by a thread as his brows pursed together. “Gonna fuck you full, little mama.”

Your orgasm hits you, crashing waves causing you to cry out in a rigid scream. “Joel!!!” Your fingers claw bloody on his back. “Make me a mommy, please?”

“Ohhhhh, fuck yeah baby, good fucking girl, gonna put my baby in you, yes, yes yes, FUCK YES!” Joel growled and  unloaded into you, painting your inside in his cum and filling you to the brim before collapsing onto you. Heavy and overbearing, Joel consumed your body and every thought in your head and soon, your body and entire life will make room for him. 

Your mind reeled, the reality of what just happened setting in. At 22, you were at peak fertility… were you pregnant?

“Joel?” You ask, still clinging to him desperately. 

“I know exactly what you’re worried about, and what do I always tell you?”

You smell his neck, reassuring yourself with his mantra. “Don’t you worry your pretty little mind…” Joel always told you not to worry about a thing. He’d take care of it all, he’d take care of you…

 “That’s right, sweetheart. I know you’re worried about what I said…” Joel’s body pulls away just a bit, tucking his forehead to yours. “I’m gonna marry you, baby girl. I’m gonna take care of you and this baby. If you’re pregnant, if you really are my good girl, I’ll marry you.” Sitting back, Joel watches his cock slide out of you with a ‘pop’ and laments the cum seeping out of you. As he pushes it back in, Joel brings you to orgasm yet again.

*

You were, in fact, pregnant. As your belly swelled, Joel became more and more obsessed with you, constantly caressing your belly. You graduated college of course, as you dreamed, but finding a job… it wasn’t really on your raidar There wasn’t really a need. Joel handled it all, and he said he didn’t want you dealing with that stress right now. And who would hire a heavily pregnant woman?

Joel and you married in an intimate ceremony at the 4th month mark in a small baptist church. It was your parents, a few family members of yours and a friend who two who Joel thought were good influences and Sarah and Tommy were there of course. Joel promised you a big, fancy vowel renewal whenever you wanted, but a wedding like that takes time to plan, and you both wanted to me married when you had your baby.

Joel made you happier than you ever thought possible, he took care of everything. Of course, he controlled everything too, but that was okay. You didn’t need a bank app on your phone, all you needed to know was that your debit card would go through, and you knew it would. You didn’t need the routing and account number, you didn’t need to see finances, look at insurance plans, stocks, bills, anything like that. All you needed to do was take care of your body, and soon, this baby. 

“I gotta admit Joel, I wasn’t really a fan of this  at the start.” Your dad announces one Sunday dinner. He had invited Tommy and Sarah over as well. Extended family. Both had been hesitant at first, especially Sarah, who was a few years older than you… but they saw how you made her dad smile, and how Joel took care of you… how could they not be happy?

“I remember” Joel jokes back.

Your dad continued. “But I gotta say, this has been good for her.”

They tended to talk about you like you weren’t in the room, sometimes, but that was okay. You were Joel’s pretty, obedient wife, and you spoke when spoken too. You were there to support Joel, not meddle in his conversations.

Joel turned to you and smiled, kissing you on the cheek and feeling your 9 month swollen belly. “She’s come a long way, but she’s a good girl, obedient. Best wife I could ask for.”

Joel spoke for you, proudly telling them how after the baby was born and you’d recovered, you had plans to put your degree to use. Not work, oh gosh no! You don't need to worry about something like that. No, you’d be volunteering at a nonprofit. And isn’t that so much better!

You wouldn’t have to have another worry in your head again, outside of being a good mother. Your could give a few hours a week to children in need and then come home to a living family without being exhausted from long days on your feet.

Everything would be taken care of.

Everything would be handled.

All you had to do was be a good girl.

************

AHHHHHHHHHHHH

I hope you guys enjoyed!!!

I am so stressed rn ive been crying for days about work stuff. I dont want to work I want to volunteer and take care of children in need and have a hot husband fuck me and and and and ANYWAY

PLease consider reblogging, it's the only way to spread fics!

I love you all, thank you to everyone whose been raching out to me

@fandxmslxt69 @moriartyyouwhore @hereforthepedrofanfic @alwaysmicado @noisynightmarepoetry @morallyinept @kyloispunk @ramblers-lets-get-ramblin @my-secret-shame-but-fanfiction @princesslunablogger

[godmadeaterribleerror]

Calling Your Name - No Love Lost Bonus Chapter

Series Masterlist

Read on A03!

Author's Note: This one’s very sad, and very horny. I’m pregaming for Chapter 21. Title from I Don't Want to Live Forever by Taylor Swift and Zayn Malik.

Word Count: 1.3k

Summary/Warnings: Ben's first birthday awake isn't great. Takes place in Chapter 19. Usual warnings, with extra emphasis on smut.

Tags: Soldier Boy/Supe!Female Reader, canon divergence, angst, smut

The last birthday Ben had celebrated was his 68th. Big fucking party, with lions and champagne, where women who Ben couldn’t remember the names of had thrown themselves at him, and men he’d never met in his life had congratulated him on turing 27.

It had been his eighteenth 27th birthday party. In another twelve years, he'd be 28. 

The event had cost a small fortune. Likely the GDP of one of those tiny fucking European countries that had been forming as the Soviet Union fell apart. Vought had rented him a castle—Ben hadn’t even known America had castles—and flown thousands of people Ben didn’t like out to celebrate.

Today he was 106, and alone in a haunted apartment as Her voice in his head called him old.

Did you take your meds this morning, grandpa?

No. Mallory still won’t just fucking give me drugs.

He could picture Her teasing pout. Woe is you, Pretty Boy. 106 and nobody to buy you cocaine.

He sighed into the empty room, and a small part of him still hoped she’d just appear. She’d walk out of the bedroom door or in from the hall, and she'd throw herself into Ben’s arms. She'd call him a grumpy cunt, and he’d get to kiss Her until she moaned and pleaded, and tell her he loved her. Maybe she’d get on her knees, or let Ben fuck her right here on the sofa. She’d smile at him. She taunt him and ask if Social Security had an expiration date, but she’d be smiling at Ben the whole time so he’d just scoff and let her.

She hadn’t told Ben her own birthday. He’d asked, once, all the way back in the safe housem, and She’d laughed. Told him she stopped celebrating her birthday when Homelander kidnapped her. 

“It loses the magic, Pretty Boy.” Her voice had been amused and bored, but there had been something hollow in Her eyes. “Being legally dead makes birthdays seem kind of pointless.”

He’d dropped it then. Now he wished he hadn’t. Ben wanted to know so that he could be a pain in everyone’s ass about it. He’d make them throw a party, and someone would provide a cake—homemade, chocolate, with a disgusting amount of frosting and ice cream just in case She hated cake—and everyone would sing that stupid birthday song in a voice worse than Hers until She felt loved. 

He’d make sure she felt loved. Ben would buy her a gift—he wasn’t sure what, but he’d figure it out—and it would make her feel seen. Then he’d stand silently behind Her while everyone celebrated how fucking perfect she was, and cut the cake so he could make sure she got the largest piece. 

Then he’d fuck Her. He’d carry her home, into this same apartment, and up the stairs into the bed so he could fuck Her. Romantically. If Ben got to do this, it would have to be romantic. In this perfect world he was creating for himself, they’d been fucking for a while now and he’d already told Her he loved her, so he’d know all the things she likes in bed, and which of them made Her come apart the fastest. Ben would be able to use that knowledge to throughly wreck Her—turn her into a sweaty, moaning work of art below him—and remind her that he loved Her the whole time.

That was what he wanted for his birthday. Her, home, in Ben’s arms so he could fuck her and tell her he loved her. So he could get some proper fucking rest tonight, and wake up with Her at his side. So everything could finally be good again.

He didn’t have a cake. He hadn’t told anyone it was his birthday, because it didn’t really fucking feel important. They had work to do, and no one on the team was going to jump out of their chair to celebrate one of Ben’s infinite birthdays. So he grabbed a candle from the cabinet—Balsam and Cedar, Her surprisingly aggressive purchase—went to light it, and realized they didn’t actually own a lighter. She was a walking lighter, so neither of them had bothered to purchase one.

It was almost midnight. This dogshit fucking day—where he’d eaten dinner with the team and combed through Vought records and tried not to think about how She was here, wasn’t home—had been the same as yesterday. Would be the same as tomorrow. All the days would be the fucking same, numb, thoughtless shit until She was home.

She’d tell Ben her birthday when she got home. He’d figure out a way to get Her to tell him. He wouldn’t be able to trick it out of her the way she was always somehow getting Ben to say what she wanted him to. If he asked, she’d ignore him or tell him to shut the fuck up.

He could fuck it out of Her. That was the only field between them where Ben seemed to have the slightest advantage. She wasn’t as fucking excellent at hiding how much she wanted Ben as he was at hiding how much he wanted Her. But he had months of practice. Weeks and weeks in the safe house of fucking his hand to the thought of Her without her catching on. And every time Ben had touched her she’d whimpered his name and fallen apart and fucking begged, so that’s how he’d figure out Her birthday. He’d make her cum on his face once—just because he wanted to—then he’d fuck Her into the mattress until Her perfect, insane, brilliant fucking brain was empty and she was molding into Ben’s body.

He’d lean down, lips against Her ears, and hiss the question.

“When’s your birthday.”

She wouldn’t answer immediately. She’d just moan and stare at him with lust-blown, pretty eyes. So Ben would pull all the way out of Her until she whined, and slam back in hard enough to break the bed before asking again.

“Tell me your birthday, beautiful, or you don’t get to fucking cum.”

It would be a bluff. She was a goddamn force of nature when she came, and Ben wasn’t strong enough to deprive himself of watching Her lips part and head throw back, feel Her back arch off the bed and her cunt squeeze around his cock like it had before on his fingers, hear Her scream his name. Maybe She’d squirt. Ben had felt how fucking wet she could get, maybe if he fucked her right, She’d squirt.

And She’d call the bluff. Even in the haze of Ben’s  body over hers, between moans and begs, she’d call him on his shit.

“Fuck,” she whimpered when he repeated that same move again. “Fuck you, Ben-“

“Birthday.”

It would take a while, likely several minutes of that exact dance, but he’d get it. Ben would lean down to Her mouth and kiss Her, sloppy and deep, fucking her faster, and tell Her he loved her. 

Then She'd tell him, and cum.

This was a foolproof fucking plan. Ben was a goddamn genius.

Maybe I don’t have a birthday, Benjamin. Have you considered that?

Everyone has a fucking birthday.

Well, what’s yours?

Ben frowned into the air. She was a figment of his imagination, she should know his birthday. Today.

Oh. The room was silent for a second. I forgot, I guess. Sorry. 

Don’t apologize. If you want to do something for me, come home.

It wasn’t really worth saying. This wasn’t Her, and even if it said, of course, Pretty Boy. For your birthday. The real her would still be across the river at Vought tower. And Ben had to be okay with that.

I want to. You know I want to, but I can’t. I miss you and love you, Ben, more than anything, but I can’t come home.

He sighed. I miss you and love you too.

Stop saying that-

Shut the fuck up. If you’re allowed to say you love me, I can say it back.

But-

No. It’s my birthday, no telling me I can’t say that I love you on my birthday.

Silence, then okay. For your birthday. Old man.

I love you, brat.

I love you too, Benjamin. Happy birthday.

End Note: I made Ben a Taurus, and I stand by that.

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[armageddon-generation]

The Bear Season 3 is a bridge season that feels weird on purpose, but also has some big problems: A review/ramble

Season 3 is clearly a bridge season, and suffers from having been written & shot alongside season 4. As a result, unlike the seasons 1 & 2, it doesn’t feel like a distinctive or complete chapter of the restaurant’s life. Just half of one.

This is partly because there’s no ‘end-goal’ like in S2, or clear progression/visible improvement to the restaraunt like in S1. Season 3 is about stagnation. Most of its storylines are left unresolved- the review, Sydney’s job offer, Tiff & Frank’s wedding, Marcus being inspired by his mother’s death, Tina and the dying farmer’s market, Carmy’s conflicts with both Claire and Ritchie. All these threads will roll into Season 4, and Season 3 suffers from that.

PACING, FLASHBACKS AND TONE: FORM REFLECTING FUNCTION

HOWEVER. This being a ‘bridge’, character-focused season isn’t inherently bad. Individual episodes of The Bear still tear when they want to. Episodes 1, 2, & 3 are a very strong setup for the season and establish good momentum. Episodes 6 & 8 are fantastic character pieces, and 8 in particular made me bawl. Even the finale, though bogged down by masturbatory celebrity chef cameos, was a strong episode.

The problem is all the stuff in-between. The actual day-to-day running of the restaurant feels hollow and empty now. There’s a distance between the characters and it feels like they don’t interact as a group anywhere near as much.

Part of this is absolutely deliberate. People joke about S3 'method acting' its way into bad reviews to reflect the restaraunt, but losing steam and the connections between characters is genuinely a formal reflection of the kitchen crew's moods, as the day-to-day grind of running the restaurant wears them down.

The use of flashbacks in 3x1 is excellent, but Season 3 quickly becomes way over-reliant on them (episode 9 especially, oh my god). Again, this feels like a conscious choice to reflect Carmy’s state of inertia/the fact he’s perpetually trapped in the past. It makes sense, but that doesn’t give the show a pass for being boring, and 3x9 was the first time I’ve ever felt genuinely bored by this show.  

FUCK THE FAKS & NEGLECTING POC CHARACTERS

My other problems are much more clearly the fault of the show; I do not give a flying fuck about the Faks. Neil is cute in small doses. The brothers are great as soundboards for other characters; Theo getting Sweeps to talk about his backstory in baseball, the brothers comforting Donna at the end of 3x8 Ice Chips, or the haunting argument finally forcing Carmy to talk about Claire.

But on their own? When they’re just bouncing off each-other? These guys aren't half as funny as the show seems to think they are. And their scenes drag on so long. For example, the B-plot of 3x5 Computer wastes half of an otherwise strong episode with pointless fucking around, propped up by a pointless celebrity cameo. I do not Give. A. Fuck about haunting, Mr. Cena, why the fuck are you here.

The aggravating time-wasting is made worse by The Bear continuing to neglect and underuse its POC characters. This is the second season in a row where I’ve felt Syd only got the bullet-points of an arc. She is the LEADING LADY. Ayo is now the show’s biggest breakout star. USE HER.

I really enjoyed Tina's focus episode, but unlike Forks and Honeydew last season it doesn't move the plot forward, and unlike Fishes the flashbacks don't contextualize Tina''s actions in the present because she's barely doing anything in the present, despite the show setting up her struggles in the kitchen early in the season.

Meanwhile, Ebra got crumbs again and Sweeps got a single scene, which is tragically at least better than he had last year.

Marcus’ arc this year is a fascinating microcosm for the show’s themes, but it barely gets a second to breathe because we have to cram in another five minutes of the Fak brothers arguing about that time Neil got taped into a cardboard box. It’s ridiculous. And then they showcase Nat being all protective of Marcus in an episode he’s barely in, when she barely interacts with him. It feels unearned & disingenuous, using Marcus as a prop for a Hell Yeah gotcha moment.

I liked Josh Harnett though, that casting had purpose, and both Chef Terry and Luca were used excellently.

CAMEOS

The surprise celebrity cameos this year felt distracting and indulgent in a way last year’s didn’t. In Fishes the slew of cameos were a dramatic tool meant to disorient the viewer. This year, John Cena is here to distract you from how pointless this B-plot is, and we've brought in a bunch of famous chefs to tell you direct-to-camera why cooking and the service industry are so important.

The chefs in particular are bizzare after season 1 spent most of its time telling us how evil and toxic the fine dining industry is. But now it's actually just the fault of a few bad apples, and these guys are really rad actually?

CLAIRE

Much has been said about how Claire was an underwritten archetype for Carmy to project onto. Now, I don’t much give a fuck about shipping in this show, but it’s clear Claire & Carmy’s romance didn’t connect with most people. It felt hollow. At the time, I thought this was deliberate, like the tone and flashbacks this season; Claire’s writing reflected Carmy’s perception of her as a saintlike childhood daydream who could deliver him from all the stresses of his life.

But this season, not only does the show refuse to let Claire go, it doubles down on objectifying her as a prop for Carmy’s self-loathing, trapped in his memory.

Again, this might work thematically if I knew Claire as a person, or was at all invested in their romance, but I don't and I’m not. As it stands, the multiple extended flashbacks with Claire feel like futile attempts to plug the holes in Season 2's weakest storyline, and drag their episodes down. If we’re supposed to root for Carmy to find happiness outside the kitchen, this is having the opposite effect, and it’s made worse by it all being left unresolved by the finale.

Either do something with this character or move on, because right now every time Claire appears I clock out emotionally, and that’s not her fault, it’s the way the show treats her.

CARMY THE ASSHOLE

All this contributes to an overriding problem that I again think is deliberate, but risky; Carmy isn’t likeable this season. He causes his conflicts with Ritchie and Syd, to whom he has passed down his generational trauma. Carmy's menu is the biggest thing dragging the Bear into bankruptcy. Carmy has stopped working to resolve his familial trauma like in seasons 1 & 2, just as Nat starts making headway. He functionally doesn’t exist outside the kitchen, entirely preoccupied with the past & a girl the audience doesn’t care about.

Unlike previous seasons, the few times Carmy is called out for his bad behaviour he doesn’t make much effort to listen or improve. Again, I get that this is the point. Carmy is on a low, self-destructive ebb, and hopefully when things start resolving in season 4 he’ll snap out of it. But him dragging the show down with him has consequences.

EPISODE COUNT & FINAL THOUGHTS

A lot of people are saying that S3 only had enough plot for 2-3 episodes, and while I think that’s disingenuous- The Bear has always been a character-focused, vibes-first show- I do think it should've returned to the 8-episode count of season 1. You can consolidate the same amount of ‘plot development’ into fewer episodes while maintaining the deliberate sense of inertia. Cut back on the Faks and flashbacks to give more time to the kitchen crew, and many of the complaints would disappear.

Anyway, all this to say that The Bear season 3 is not Bad like some are saying, but it is a step down from its first two seasons. It feels like it’s got lost in its own head and lost a part of itself along the way, and while a lot of that is deliberate- formally reflecting Carmy’s internal conflict- it exacerbates existing problems (underwritten POC, Claire) and creates several new ones (celeb cameos, overusing flashbacks, unresolved plotlines) previous seasons were able to sidestep.

[olderthannetfic]

Have been having such a time lately trying to commit to this fic im writing because it's. Incredibly cathartic and is the start of me finally starting to explore the concepts im ashamed of being fascinated by.

Mpreg jokes have become so ubiquitous that it feels like people just roll their eyes or look at me like im a weirdo for trying to take the idea seriously? not just as a physical reality for the m getting pregged in question, but also as an Emotional reality for the character. Pregnancy and pregnant characters are still treated So fucking weirdly in General, and. i understand people having a trigger related to it, thats not what im talking about ofc, but at the same time its like. Its Pregnancy. Its how Life happens. And men irl Can and DO get pregnant. Even men that dont "look like" they would enjoy it. It's always "dont pigeon hole effeminate men as bottoms/omegas/subs!!" Until someone comes out and actually wants to see and read about The Most Stereotypical Guy to ever Dude experiencing 1.) what it means to be a vessel for life, and 2.) How that changes the way people will treat him.

Bc! as soon as i bring it up, no matter how tactfully and Chaste i try to be about it, the atmosphere in the conversation always Shifts, and there's this feeling that everyone just wants me to shut up and stop being a pervert because the mere premise makes them uncomfortable. Like im sorry thinking about men in fiction undergoing women's lived reality gives me a way to articulated an understanding of what it means to be capable of having a child (all the good, bad, and ugly parts of it) that is still not otherwise allowed in Polite Discussion irl, even in the closest of relationships??

Ill keep writing it for sure but like. The shame is rearing its head and im trying to fight it my getting Mad at the pervasive (and probably just perceived) puritanical judgements dished out my the rest of the world, instead.

Why is the idea of pregnancy never taken seriously. Why is it always shoved in a corner to be ignored till it Happens and its Forced into relevance. And then why is it treated as pointless or worse just straight up Bad if it isn't "done right"/arousingly/humorously while being relevant, either on the character's part Or the author's?

It's getting better more and more with time but im just. Wracking my brain about it today. I cant stop thinking about it, its all i want to talk about, but even In my nicest and most opem circles i can feel people pulling away, and all i can think is its because im doing it to the Wrong character (major macho man villian with a Lot of daddydom themed xreaders...) or something. and its so hard not to let myself get discouraged 👽

--

A lot of my fandom circles act like that, and it's because all pregnancy is somewhere between a massive squick and massively boring to them.

I find pregnancy more interesting now that I've experienced it, but I was definitely like "Why would anyone ever talk to me about this?" before, and it wasn't about picking the wrong character.

Some things are just unpopular with some audiences. Try not to get too discouraged.

[threepandas]

Bird4Bird Part 2: Yandere Hawks

(Experimenting with tenses n povs, bear with me, will post the whole thing together in the one I/you guys like best, once it's done.)

His patrol is the exact sort of boring that he both hates and loves. On one hand? More time for flying. Freedom from the office. The watching eyes of... everybody, really. But on the OTHER hand? Boooooored. SO bored!

He's not MADE for bored!

Not that there WEREN'T distraction from said boredom below him. There definitely WERE. God, so SO many. Shiny, fascinating, fast moving distractions. ALL sorts of things to pick apart and hunt down. Rip apart and eat. And fans. So, SO many fans.

Noise and life and stimulus. Calculations and social masks.

He bet he could find a kitten in a tree somewhere.

There had to be at least ONE, rig-?

An explosion catches the corner of his eye. He snaps around, mid air, changing trajectory. Thank FUCK! Excitement fizzing even as cool attention calms him. Warm sunlight heating his back, the smell of smoke already starting to reach him, the rush of wind flying past? Is there anything better?

His eyes take in the scene as he arrives.

Botched takedown. Heavily armed combatant. Panicked crowd. He's already send feathers forward when? The combatant panics, seeing him arrive. Throws everything he has indiscriminately. Probably hoping to overwhelm him. Ha! Cute. Pointless, though.

He's already dragging civilians out of the way, when?

Children's voices. High and panicked. Screaming. The combatant had one last bomb. Is trying to run. Probably thinks he'll have to choose, as though he can't be-...

Wings...

Magnificent, powerful, WINGS. Massive and sweeping. Every feather an unbreakable shield. Catching the light, past smoke and fires, white and a brown so dark it bordered on black or grey. The patterns of a harpy eagle...

A mesmerizing golden sheen, almost impossible for anyone but those with enhanced eyes to pick up, surged from the base of them. Like the spread of smooth ink across paper, the slide of silk against skin. A glint covering those magnificent wings in GOLD.

Quirk?

No. No, concentrate. His Feather grabs the bomb from the air and flings it upwards. To explode harmlessly in open air. He catches the menace blindly behind him. Honestly, he's done far harder with far less. He can't look away.

Even as those wings, still domed up, shuffle to safety. Move ever so gently, like a grand reveal, to release a veritable HOARD of roughed up kids. Some of whom are still clinging to their savior for dear life. Snot and tears everywhere. They bear it with surprising grace.

They're... they're HUGE~

Not a Heros build, but..? Just STANDING there they look like a threat. They clearly can't help it. Clearly have made efforts to NOT look like one. Have tracked down the cutesiest Hero Merch available to slap on their body, like might help.

It's like looking staring down a pissed off alligator in a princess tiara. There WAS An Effort! He'll give her that!

His face threatens to break out into a VERY un-PR friendly, mean little snicker. It's... God it's so FUCKIN CUTE~. She's so big. Trying to make herself so non-threatening. It's never gonna work. Any PR team worth their pay would tell her to just give up and pick a different gimmick. But... but God, those WINGS!

He HAS to know her flight speed.

So he waves off the complaining newbies he wasn't actually listening too, makes appropriate noises to the appropriate people as he passes. And makes his way over. As he get closer? Oh~?

What a SUPRISE. She's getting ripped into by local law enforcement. Which, fair, she DID use her Quirk. But that's not what HE'S talking about. He didn't even see it. He's talking about her WINGS.

Well, well, well. He KNOWS he didn't just hear local law enforcement threaten JAIL TIME over a MUTATION, did he? That's an abuse of power! He can arrest YOU for that, officer~. He decides to cut in.

"Problem, officer?" He chirps.

His hand going to his new friends shoulder in solidarity. The officer jerks to attention. But the living STEEL under his hand? Jerks violently. She jumps. It's only years of training and the warning he got from his hand physically touching her shoulder, feeling her muscles start to move, that saves him a concussion.

The wing closest to him slams out like a battering ram, flicking into an extension just to force him back further. She spins to face him. Eyes locked on, teeth unknowingly bared. And... oh. Oh~!

She has a HARPY Quirk~

Cute like fangs that can probably rip through bone, eyes like his, TALONS that dip the tips of her fingers in a black so deep and glossy, ink masters would weep in envy. And the muscles. Far beyond an athlete. Not quite a top 50 hero, but better then most hero students by far. Not balanced for fighting though, those are PURELY wing and exercise muscles.

And the longer he openly assesses? The more of her teeth are bared. The bigger her wings fluff up. The more her hands spread into clawed, furious, weapons. Ready to swing at his head. Her eyes slowly lighting with aggravation and confrontational aggression.

He used to get like this too. HATED being stared at. He got it trained out of him.

He... he can't help it.

It's too cute. She's SO MAD. He knows he shouldn't. He's supposed to be a top 5 hero. The commission's golden boy. Everyone's watching. Always IS. He needs to behave himself, remember his PR training.

Don't. Do. The Thing...

He reaches out and tugs a feather. She has a mean right hook.

He gets yeeeeeelled at. Sad face. His handlers want to throw the book at her. For once, he puts his foot down. Absolutely Not. HE started that fight. HE'S the one who should have known better. He doesn't CARE if her records show she's a "trouble maker"! (That's a lie. He's CURIOUS now~. Oooooh~ What did you DO, lil harpy? Vengeance? Justice? Speeding ticket?)

They let it go.

He? He does NOT. He knows he should. This is a Bad Habit of his. No, WAS. It WAS a Bad Habit. He's BETTER then this now. There were trainers. Psychological exams. Drugs. All FIXED now! Promise! See? Doesn't even have that Endeavor collection he used to keep.

TOTALLY forgot how they tore it away from him. Destroyed it. Ha ha! He barely even REMEMBERS the EXACT Face, Name, Current Location, and Home Address of every single individual involved in THAT little incident! He's let it GO! Forgot about it, really. Yeeeep, the panic and rage DEFINITELY don't keep him up at night. The helplessness. As they took what was HIS-!!

Deeeep inhale. Exhale. Remember to smile!

So, yeah.

Where was he? Right! His Bad Habit That He DOES NOT HAVE ANYMORE. Because he's FIXED now. All better! He's just... taking responsibility, you know? Wants the chance to keep messing with her. Maybe see if he can get a glorious creature like that her very own flyers license.

Cause, DAMN. Wings like THOSE should be airborne.

God he wants to race her so bad.

Luckily~ he's hired the BEST lawyers. (Love you Tadashi~ say hi to your boo~) and the Judge? A big Fan! Yay, FAVORS! (Guess where YOUR going, little hunter? Run but you can't hiiiiide~) She? Looks SO unimpressed to see him? It's GREAT.

She's even WORSE in a suit. It's hilarious.

Maybe it's just THAT suit. God it's so frumpy. What, did she find it in the "generics weekly" catalog? She should wear armor. Ooooh, a flight suit! Something form fitting and sleeveless to show off them GUNS. Never thought HE'D get to be the one who feels dainty in a relationship, but...

Ah. Wait.

Gotta HAVE a relationship, first...

Unfortunately? Tall, buff, and gorgeous is so pissed to BE here? It's unlikely she'll notice any subtle flirtations....

He's not sure what his face is doing, but the expression is enough to make her HISS, wings mantling in a threat display.

Oh, yeah. Oh this is gonna be FUN~♡

[fancifulplaguerat]

I’m so not normal about this

The way that Artemy tries to make Daniil feel better despite not caring solely because Daniil is upset, the “you are also better-crafted than me” like Artemy is telling him not to think of himself as some worthless unloved doll because look at yourself, you’re so much more than that; just that last line the compassion the kindness in it I cannot stand this. I’m not even that into Burakhovsky in canon but this is the most romantic thing I’ve ever witnessed in my life (←light hyperbole) 

I’ve gotten too desensitized to the doll ending that I forget what a gut punch it is. That line “Strangely, there is still not a word to be heard from the Powers That Be. Perhaps they became bored of it all... or were called back home for supper” plain devastates me. Just the futility of it all, how pointless all the characters’ suffering was, in particular the healers’. Though I enjoy the theatre-framing in Patho 2, the ‘children’s game’ meta in Patho Classic gets under my skin far more, as there’s some ‘purpose’ in Artemy/Daniil/Clara suffering onstage, playing their roles for an audience. While Patho 2 implies futility with the ‘you aren’t important, you can be recast,’ that idea of ‘you are not important, and everything you did meant nothing’ hits me harder in the game framing because the healers aren’t even worth being replaced. Everything is just some kids’ make-believe that can be tossed aside when they get bored or are called away. 

But I fucking love “The Powers That Be” concept because it’s so perfectly ominous and vague. Could be anything, likely the government, but sike actually it’s two children who orchestrated your entire living nightmare. I love the subtle references to them throughout the game, too, such as a plague victim telling Daniil “I keep hearing children’s voices... the girls are crying, and the boy is laughing... We mustn’t scare them...” or Aspity asking, “Pit-a-pat, pit-a-pat... Can you hear the kids running around?” And granted this might not truly be about The Powers That Be, but it certainly feels like it could be. Or the foreshadowing on Day 1 of the Bachelor Route when Daniil asks the kids, “How did it even cross your mind... to play epidemic!” And Clara directly references them when she goes underground with Artemy, warning him to talk as little as possible so “they who are beyond the wall won’t hear you.” 

She elaborates: 

“I can only feel them. They are obscure. They are the ones in charge of everything here. They’re big but narrow-souled, trying to hide their wretchedness from us. It was all their doing. They haven’t revealed themselves yet. [...] Their time hasn't come yet. They are waiting in the wings. They will probably break into the world when it ends. Tomorrow they will show themselves...” 

I highly enjoy Measly and Thrush’s presence being all over the game unbeknownst to the player and characters (excluding Clara). 

And it creates even more futility to me because there’s no catharsis of just anger against some cruel puppet-master, like I can’t be angry with these children who are just playing. Especially how they ask, “Heal the town, please! Just look, it’s so wonderful... It’s alive and it’s our favorite one... We won’t be able to make another one like this. If it can’t be helped, then it will disappear forever. You know how much we love it?” They’re just kids who want you to save something that they love; even if they can be devious they don’t really have malicious intentions. But even their fears about losing their town aren’t real and I’m just going to go outside and start eating handfuls of dirt 

[glitchy-npc]

54 for whump prompts?

54: “You were right.”

Thank you @keltena for the same prompt!

Late afternoon, maybe an hour till sunset. 

The Boneyard is almost empty this time of day. Only a handful of people and their dogs, the last few stragglers trying to tire out their energetic companions before heading home for the night. 

Routine. Normal. Not that you’d know.

Is this what your life would have been like if you had been born human? A boring, safe, nine to five job and a dog to come home to? Something to care for, to guard you in return? Love, free from judgment.

It doesn’t matter, those thoughts are pointless. You’re not here for the dogs or their people, you're here to confront your tail. You don’t know who but you’ve felt someone tracking you the last few hours. Not direct thoughts but a prickle at the back of your neck, a feeling of being watched and you’ve survived too long to ignore those kinds of instincts. In an initial spike of panic you had been worried it might be the Special Directive, but waiting so long isn’t their style, they’re far too efficient. You doubt it's Ortega either, even if you can’t read him he’s never had any patience and he should be all too eager to confront you now after what you did to him. Stop thinking about Ortega, nothing good ever comes from that.

Did Hollow Ground send someone to babysit you? Watch you? Either way, maybe the presence of witnesses will keep things from getting messy.

You close your eyes and wait. 

It's not long before someone sits down heavily next to you. You don’t jump, you felt the familiar portcullis of the Marshal’s shields slam shut around his mind as soon as he entered The Boneyard, a bigger tell than even his heavy gait. His work legs you’d guess. That doesn’t bode well for you, neither does his silence.

“How long have you been following me?” Maybe letting him know you're not as easily ambushed  as the first time he met you here will level some of the playing field.

“What makes you think I’ve been following you?” Of course he answers a question with a question. Asshole. 

“Please,” you scoff. “Do you expect me to believe this is a coincidence? You're not even here with Spoon.” That thought makes you a little sad, you suppose you’ve lost your dog walking privileges now that you’re a known villain. That's a shame, Spoon is a good dog. 

The Marshal doesn’t bother to offer any other excuse. Maybe you don’t deserve one.

“So are you here to arrest me?” Might as well start with the worst possible scenario.

“No.” The admission is quick, the ‘not yet’ left unsaid. 

“Then what, just here to remind me not to fuck up?” Your laugh is dry.

“What makes you think you haven’t already fucked up?” You can feel his eyes on you but you don’t take the bait, you keep staring straight ahead. You wonder if he means your choice of career or the mess you've made of your friendship. 

“Shut up, you know what I mean. You’re fine with me off the leash for now but if I fuck up and get someone killed, that blood would be on your hands too.”

“There's already blood on my hands, for a long time” His sigh is heavy and tired. You sneak a glance as he clasps them together, mechanical fingers interlocking. “At some point you just stop trying to wipe it clean…and try to do better.”

“Do better…” You echo his words and shake your head. “Is that what this is? Honestly I’d prefer being arrested over having to sit here and listen to your platitudes.” It’s not much of a joke but it gets something between a laugh and a cough out of him. 

“Believe it or not, I’m not here to lecture you.” You're about to call bullshit before he continues. “I thought you might have questions for me.” 

“Sure, I got one, is cryptic bullshit just wired into your brain or something? You always do that.” Talking like you're supposed to know what he’s talking about, reading minds doesn’t work miracles. You roll your eyes but catch a smile tugging at the corner of his mouth.

“Maybe, but you’re smart enough to figure it out.” Ugh. Flattery? Asshole.

But he’s not wrong, it’s been almost six months after the crash and you haven’t seen any of the Rangers since – well, aside from a not so gentle reminder from Lady Argent that she’s getting impatient with your lack of progress on your little shared project, but the Marshal doesn’t need to know that. Instead you opt for something safer. Maybe you can spin this into information you can use. 

“Has Herald been keeping up with his training?” Somehow calling him Daniel feels wrong. That was a name he shared with Tegan, not Retribution. 

“I’m…not sure, he’s mostly been out on patrols.” Is that a warning? Maybe you should watch the skies more often. 

“You're just a wealth of information aren't you.” 

“To be fair, I thought you’d ask about Ricardo.” 

Fuck. As if that wasn’t the most dangerous topic between you. Maybe the Marshal will let you get on with your work so long as you toe the line, but you doubt he’ll keep letting you break his best friend's heart, not after last time. You wonder if he’d care if it's breaking yours as well. 

“Is he still mad about you keeping the photos from him?” The photos, what a quaint little term for the evidence of your torture at the hands of the Farm. Impossible to survive, maybe that makes them feel unreal. It’s a low blow shifting the blame, but then again, you are the bad guy here.

“We talked.” There's an undeniable tension in his clipped words.

“You mean you fought.” 

“I mean we talked. Yes, it got bad…and maybe he won't forgive me, but we cleared the air. It’s a start.”  

“Never would have pegged you for an optimist.”

“I‘m not but…are you?” You catch his quizzical look out of the corner of your eye.

“You have got to stop fucking doing that, I am litterally not reading your mind right now!” You curse yourself for losing your cool but it's really the most irritating thing about him. He never says what he means.

“Are you still angry? That I kept the photos from him.” He’s looking at you but you don’t dare look back, you can feel his gaze practically searing into your clenched jaw.

“When I was…recovering” A simple word for the agony that was being trapped in a medical bed in your base, helpless, hurting and all too vulnerable. “All I did was hate you.” If Ricardo had known, even suspected you were alive, maybe he would have tried to save you, maybe none of this would have had to happen. Maybe-

No. You’re long past maybes.

“And now?” There's something fragile in his question, not something you're used to hearing from him. Not fear, but something terribly adjacent to hope. 

Your sigh feels bone deep. You can only lie to yourself for so long. Even when it feels so much better than the truth. 

“No. You…you were right.” You wish it didn’t feel like pulling barbed wire from your skin to admit that. “He would have gotten himself killed looking for me…and I don't want that.” The last is said no louder than a whisper.

The Marshal nods, maybe he's made up his mind about you, or himself, you don’t know. You don’t want to. He stands up before the silence between you grows too long, looks like your interrogation is over.

“Take care, Tegan.” Your old name feels like a bruise neither of you will stop poking. 

The words slip out before you can stop yourself.

“Say hi to Spoon for me.” 

Chen hesitates, but doesn’t turn around.

“I will.”