#like no wonder i got so depressed this year jesus

[spaciebabie]

ohhh m y god i cant wait to be unemployed. i burnt myself out 2 the brink these past 2 years breah shoudlnt have done that

[dq1]

ohh im close.to having crazy gender issues again

[moonlight-fawn]

so I got offered the job and of course the first things my dad says “when are you going back to school” “people there are dangerous” and “you can’t make a career or live like this” 😀😀😀😀

[artdcnaldson]

Alllll I can think about is the changeover au SO I had a thought, art having bragged to Patrick about all the little things he had picked up that make your eyes roll to the back of your head and body tremble during your “relationship” and and and Patrick being a sly fucker and not telling you about it but doing them to you when you eventually do fuck and secretly thanking art in that moment for the tips !!!

this is part of my changeover au :) you can read that here

Rating: E (18+)

Warnings: Angst, SMUT (mild descriptions of p in v), post changeover pt.1

Summary: It’s been months since you called things off with Art, but Patrick still can’t stop thinking about the two of you together.

A/N: This was supposed to be sexy and fun, and I turned around and made it depressing 💔 my bad!

Patrick shouldn’t have been thinking about Art.

In fact, he’d been trying very, very hard to stop thinking about Art lately. Missing him felt like having a phantom limb, like a part of him was suddenly cleaved and his entire body expected it to still be there.

But that was different from the way he was thinking about him then. With you, laid out for him on the hotel sheets, your body gleaming with a thin sheen of sweat after a day watching tennis matches. You’d been a perfect little cheerleader, just like Art had told him that first time.

I mean, Jesus, you’d homemade the tightest little shirt that said ZWEIG across the tits. You wore it beneath a modest white cardigan, since it was a nice country club he was playing at, but still.

“You played so well today, Patrick,” you’d said sweetly after the match, holding his hand while you walked with him to the locker rooms.

“I played like shit,” he said with a huff. Frustration was welling up within him. He wanted to smash a racket, or pick a fight. “I should’ve beat that asshole.”

“There’ll be other matches,” you reassured, brushing a sweaty curl from his forehead. “Go shower, and when we get back to the hotel, I’ll make you feel better.”

And you were doing your very best to make that happen. It would probably be perfect… if only he could stop fucking thinking about Art.

It had been a problem each time he’d seen you since March. It was fine, until he got you in bed, then the fucking blond was all he could think about. Memories of Art talking about fucking you, all the times he’d gone on and on about just how good you could take it.

He supposed he deserved it. He’d gone on tangents about Tashi more than enough times, and it probably drove Art crazy, knowing what he couldn’t have. Maybe he wanted Patrick to feel the same way, so jealous he couldn’t stand it.

But now you were the one beneath him, moaning as he bottomed out within you, filling you up completely. Your hair was sticky, plastered to your face with that thin sheen of sweat.

She likes when you’re nice to her. She gets off on the compliments. It’s Art’s voice he hears in the back of his mind, almost a year ago now. Like a perfect recording.

“You feel so good,” Patrick murmured against your ear. He felt your cunt clench around him as your nails dug into his shoulders. “So good for me.”

Your legs wrapped around his waist— pulling him closer. And your pretty, wet lips panted out little gasps right by his ear. Thank you thank you thank you, over and over and over.

He moved his lips to a spot just beneath your ear, sucking and licking at the soft skin there until you moaned, growing louder as he laved your throat with bites and sloppy kisses. Art had given him that one too.

And he knew he was making you feel good— knew that without fail, you’d wind up as putty in his hands. But he wondered if you thought about Art too, if you missed the ways he would treat you reverently, with that gentle, sweet way he always got with girls. If you would go back to Art if you ever got the chance.

Patrick had long since decided not to bring up Art while he was fucking you, or when he was with you at all. Instead, he lingered like a ghost in the recesses of Patrick’s mind, and probably in yours.

“Close,” you gasped in his ear.

He pulled back, kissing you deeply. Licking into your mouth like he could somehow erase the memory of Art’s tongue there too. Because Art was the one who told him that you liked being kissed when you were right on the edge, that you got super clingy like that.

When you came, you always made the prettiest sounds— like you came straight out of a porno or a wet dream. Art hadn’t warned him about that. He didn’t last much longer before he finished too, panting and sweating on top of you.

You smiled and pet his hair, scratching your nails against his scalp as he kissed the soft skin on your shoulder. You used to do the same thing to Art, playing with his hair after you’d fucked. He knew that too, and it made his chest ache.

He wondered if he’d ever have anything with you that Art hadn’t had before.

He shouldn’t have cared that much. He would’ve been happy sharing Tashi with Art, back in that hotel, back at Stanford. It wasn’t that he didn’t like that Art had you before, it was that he missed Art now

Thank you for reading!! Sorry this is so depressing, I couldn’t make it sexy no matter how hard I tried. I had to lean into the angst and pining from Patrick over Art

If you have any Changeover au thoughts or requests, please feel free to send them my way :)🩵

[sgiandubh]

Onlies at large

Sometimes (often, even), I can't sleep. And when I can't sleep, I get easily bored, if not focused on something. And there was nothing of particular import on Netflix or Amazon Prime, yesterday night. Aaand, as I don't have access to my bookshelves back home, I went looking for a light something to read myself to the Land of Nod.

I am, since forever, a solid reader of non-fiction. Memoirs, diaries are a special interest, too. So I just wanted to see if there were any nice memoirs of people who went to Scotland in search of a new life/love/whatever, Under The Tuscan Sun -style. Everand/Scribd is a decent starting point for the such, at 2 AM.

There weren't and I wonder why. But as I was browsing around, lo and behold, I found a tiny, self-published memoir by a certain Ninya (not her real name, of course): Scotland with a Stranger (2020).

Great literature it is not. It is naive and the narrative line sounded really, really meh to me: a 43 year old Alabama depressed divorcee finds healing and a renewed purpose for life, while traveling to Scotland with an improbable companion.

So, I skimmed and skimmed and skimmed (FFS, when is she going to PACK, this one?). Then, I found this and no, I am not sorry AT ALL for the length (passages are bolded by me).

Thank you Baby Jesus, she finally made it to her EDI flight:

'(...) I noticed a little emblem on the shirts of many of the women on this flight. It looked like mountains and said Peaker. All the women were laughing and chatting and carrying on like they had known each other forever.

“Is this your first trip to Scotland?” I tried to make small talk with the lady next to me.

“Heavens, no! It’s my sixth.”

“Wow,” I said. “It’s such a big world, but you keep coming back here?”

“Yes, it’s just incredibly beautiful. I never get tired of it. There is no other place as magical on earth.” She smiled wistfully. “I’m actually coming for a gala.”

“A gala?” I parroted back to her. I thought galas were reserved for Barbie movies. In my social circle, no one I knew ever attended a gala.

“Yes! It’s called My Peak Challenge.” She leaned in closer, excited to share. “Have you read the Outlander series?”

“Funny you ask that because I just downloaded the first book.” It seemed like required reading when you went to Scotland. I loved to read and had nothing but time due to my social media fast, so it was sitting unopened on my iPad.

“Well, the character of Jamie is played by Sam Heughan, and he is the founder of My Peak Challenge. It’s not just a club; it’s a movement, and every year they have a gala in Edinburgh. People come from all over the world for this event.”

The germaphobe next to me chimed in. “This is my first year, but he has truly changed my life. I’ve lost twenty-two pounds.” I was impressed, having weighed nearly two hundred myself at one point. Losing sixty of it was one of the biggest accomplishments of my life.

“Losing weight is so hard,” I commiserated with her. “How did you do it?”

“The boring way, eating right and exercising.” She laughed, and I laughed with her because I knew too well it was the only way that worked long-term.

She continued on. “My Peak Challenge is a training and nutrition program where we support and challenge each other, but it’s not just that because Sam has raised nearly two million dollars for charities all over the world. He’s just incredible.” She was practically swooning and literally fanning herself. I wasn’t sure if it was because he was hot, or because she was.

That nutrition program must include the Sam Heughan is a God Kool-aid.

“This conference includes a meet and greet and a gala and a special workout that Sam leads. He’s just an amazing human being,” she gushed. She clearly was in love with Sam Heughan.

“I have been chosen to introduce him,” the sweet older lady to my left said. “So, I’ve got the next eight hours to figure out the words to say to introduce the man who has completely changed my life.”

“Yes!” She went on. “It’s an incredible organization. He’s really affecting change on a global level.” (sic!)

Great. I am stuck between two evangelists at a Sam Heughan-is-the-greatest-human-in-the-world presentation.

“We have a Facebook group, and everyone is just so awesome and supportive. It really is a family.”

“And how much does it cost to be in this family?” I asked skeptically.

“It wasn’t much,” she defended, quickly changing the topic. “Nearly every penny is donated to charity. He is changing lives,” she stressed so incredibly seriously I had to cover my mouth to stifle a giggle.

Is this a cult? It sounds like a cult. I am trapped on an airplane for the next eight hours with the Sam Heughan cult.

Luckily for me, headphones exist. It was an overnight flight, which meant I could close my eyes and pretend to sleep, and there were movies to be seen.' (Ninya - Scotland with a Stranger: A Memoir, Chapter Thirteen).

For some reason, I doubt Ninya ever opened that OL first tome, on her IPad or elsewhere. But the point of my post is not to poke fun at SRH, MPC and all the gracious Peakers who read and often comment on this humble blog (@ladyjane-lj, @rosfrank immediately come to mind and I am sure they are not the only ones).

The reason I quoted this passage at almost full length, despite the paltry writing skills and abysmal grammar/spelling on display (Sweet Baby Jesus, please make people see the real difference between affect and effect, thank you and amen) is that we are dealing here with a unique perspective on a sizeable chunk of this fandom. You see, Ninya has no damn agenda to promote, in OL terms. She is not a shipper, but she is not an Anti, either. She couldn't care less if S+C=❤️, or if Tait rhymes with Fate (it rhymes with Bait, if you ask me). She doesn't know anything about OL, its cast, its Best Fans Ever, you and me and her.

And this is precisely why her perspective is so damn interesting. She is a mere passer-by, who failed to be grabbed in by the OTT Only Mommie gushing and who saw possessiveness and objectification disguised as love. She saw the most problematic, hypocrite and unimportant side of this whole experience and this whole fandom. And it's terrible and I am really sorry she did.

Maybe someone else than us reads this. For once, I wish they did, for it is an unadulterated, faraway echo of Real Life and the Real World. Selling that Toy Boi image is WRONG, *** and PR and TPTB. It's counterproductive and a total turnoff to real people who can't be arsed to even look for the Balmaclellan Adonis on Google, just because this fan substack is really, really embarrassing.

Of course, they blindly buy the booze, religiously sign in year after year to just about everything he sells around. Of course they show up every single time and pitch their tents on the rude city pavement in front of God Knows Which liquor store in Whoville, America. But they also show up with baked lasagna, pinch his ass (Madame Tussaud's, anyone?) and geriatrically swoon front row, cackling and giggling and catcalling like they were 12. It's also because of these women that OL lost its fabulous innocence and authenticity and it's because of these women we do have the Global Merry-Go-Round Seasonal Shitshow that keeps all of us (sickly, I am the first to admit it) engaged here.

Finally, this is also why I am closely following all the business side of this ahem, universe. It's the road less traveled by and of course, probably the most rewarding.

Shoot me, the very moment I turn into Neilie. Let it be clearly known beforehand. And no, please do not resuscitate. I'd be too ashamed.

[thesharktanksdriver]

Oh! When I asked about magical girl! Y/n in Teen Titans (2003 version), I forgot to mention about how she would interact, meet or deal with the Titans’ villains like the HIVE, Slade, Red X, or the Brotherhood of Evil

No prob, I was actually wanting to add a bit about the hive in my first response but didn’t want to make it too long lol. I’m just gonna do the hive and Slade for this since I can’t remember the brotherhood of evil very well and red x would need his own thing lol

Is it any surprise that y/n ends up befriending the light? I mean really? With her track record the light are probably the least Bruce has to worry about. But anyways she would have probably heard about them through the teen titans but kinda didn’t pay them any mind till she ran into them. They at first think she’s a potential “no good goody two shoes” set out to stop their fun until she pulls out a sniper rifle and quite literally blow off the head of a shadowmite on one of their shoulders, effortlessly scaring the crap out of them and also making them quite interested in her.

I’d say she’s find them to be pretty fun, but she’d especially get along with Jinx and surprisingly Mammoth. Y/n is tired and exasperated half the time making her a kinda low energy person who would take to answering their questions as long as they got her bat-burger which leads to some interesting conversations.

“Yeah Robin has been pretty miffed lately cause-“

“Wait so you know Robin?”

“Yeah, both”

“Both???”

“Well you guys are from a seperate dimension right? Well there’s a Robin from my dimension who’s a different Robin from your Robin but still Robin. You can tell them apart cause your Robin is adverse to any real violence while my Robin would try and cut your arm off”

“….your Robin has a sword?!?!?!?”

“Yeah he also used to be an assassin too”

Yeah after that they start to think that they lucked out in the Robin department knowing theirs wasn’t the type to possibly cause real injury. That’s not even to mention when you mention other hero’s in this world or hell even the villains. Cause Jesus, Joker wore his own face after it was cut off?!?!? Or that an end of the world scenario happened just about every year?!?!?

They’re starting to enjoy where they live in comparison to you especially after you explain Shadowmites to them. How you hunt these monstrous creatures by your lonesome (maybe not as much as before since one of the bats typically tags along but still, there are times you go off on your own) and how your the sole thing keeping these things from literally devouring the universe.

But with that comes with you saying something oddly sad that makes them pause

“Hey….if the Shadowmites end up in your world and a magical girl is defending against them? Tell her about me. Tell her that I wish I could have met her myself and that…it’s gonna be hard but to keep going”

Damn…..that’s more depressing than they’d like to admit nor think about.

Her meeting 2003 Slade would be an….odd scenario considering she knows the Slade in her universe. So it’s definitely an awkward meeting when she’s like “yo Slade how’s rose doing” and 2003 Slade is wondering who the fuck she is and how she knows about his daughter.

When y/n learns that this is 2003 Slade though….she definitely tries to avoid him for various reasons. Cause listen, as much as her Slade is an asshole sometimes and has some weird ass morals he doesn’t act like a creep towards literal children. When hearing what he did to Raven she is appalled, she did not think being a hired murderer could get worse before she had heard that.

She does not in the slightest want to be around him

But him on the other hand is interested partially due to the fact he can see she’s skilled and some of the techniques she uses are some of his moves.

Which means that she must have known and trained under her universe’s version of him

When y/n now meets up with her version of Slade she thanks the gods he isn’t the same one from 2003

(Y/n to 2003 Slade be like lol)

[marimayscarlett]

Hello lovely!

Because I love your takes and posts on the eternally beautiful, wonderful Richard Z. Kruspe, I was wondering what your top five random weird facts about him are - like silly things he’s said or other people have said about him (e.g. Khira’s post on insta complaining about all the naked lady art in the house!)

TY! 😘

Hello my dear and thank you so much for your ask! Glad you enjoy my posts, this means a lot to me 🥰

This one took me a while (had to comb through several interviews for this), but I shamelessly used this ask to create two little lists - one with weird little facts/moments and one with interesting little facts in general. Not necessarily my top five (would be super hard to pick them), but moments which I think about currently. A lot 😄

Random weird facts and moments:

Literally this interview. He had absolutely no restraint and some pick-me-vibes going on, especially in these moments: - Interviewer: 'On the surface, the title A Million Degrees seems to suggest heat or that you are implying that the music is hot or on fire.' RZK: 'Or just me!' (laughs) - Interviewer: (speaking about the possibility of Emigrate opening for Rammstein) 'Isn’t it physically exhausting, too?' RZK: 'Yeah, it’s like having two women in the same night!' (laughs) - Interviewer: (after explaining her thoughts about the title "A million degrees) 'So, out of curiosity, what was your intention with the album’s title?' RZK: 'I always knew that women were smarter than men!'

me reading this entire interview:

That recording an album with Rammstein can be quite exhausting is something Richard (and sometimes also other members) mentioned several times. They discuss a lot, sometimes have verbal fights, etc. - but Richard admitted that he sometimes wished for proper "Wild West" fist fights because that maybe would've also solved some problems 👀 (as I mentioned some time ago, how about some anger management my guy) (source)

Poor little lad does not understand the concept of strip clubs, plus since he doesn't drink alcohol, it's apparently abysmally boring for him in these locations 😪 Better write a strip song, fitting for a good striptease, and that's how we got the song "Get Down" (source)

Widely known, but still: this moment from this interview: - Interviewer: 'What would you spend your last £20 on?' RZK: 'How much is that in Euros, about 20? A nice blowjob! Actually, change that - a handjob. Yes, they're easy to get near where I live. I could get 20 minutes for 20€, that's good value!'

2. Random interesting (at least for me) facts in general:

In this podcast Richard mentions that the Emigrate album "The persistence of memory" essentially was a therapeutic project for him. In 2019, he fell into a heavily depressive episode after the tour and even contemplated quitting music completely. So he started to sift through his old compositions and songs he had on his computer, some dating back over 20 years, and somehow found his love for music again through those memories - and this album, which was not at all planned, was the result of this process. This is the reason why we have songs like "Freeze my mind" for example, which dates all the way back to 2001 and was written by Richard and his then-wife Caron.

In this interview Richard mentions that these four songs are his favourites (at least at this point in time): - Hurt by Nine Inch Nails - Babe I'm gonna leave you by Led Zeppelin - Sin City by AC/DC - Personal Jesus by Depeche Mode

The book "Perfume" by Patrick Süßkind (which explores dark themes of obsession and power, linked with the sense of smell and emotions), which he read as a teenager, was the reason why he wanted to create something which REALLY moves a crowd, like the perfect song. (source)

Here Richard mentioned that when his daughter Khira was younger, he played her a lot of the Rammstein tracks because he knew she would be brutally honest and give him straightforward feedback. This didn't work anymore after some time, since as a teenager she later learned how to please him and get what she wanted (let's be real, we've all been there). Plus, he's apparently a rather strict parent, believing that you have to make a lot of experiences to get forward in life and that self-discipline helps a great deal.

In this interview, Richard mentions that he likes to pick out an audience member to get an connection to through eye contact (at least this was the case back then) - and this eye contact helps him to put on a good show, most likely to play the concert for this particular fan. Plus he thinks about doing mediation after a concert, as a vent to balance out all the energy he's absorbed from the crowd.

I hope these lists are at least a bit like what you had in mind as an answer 😊 Thanks a lot again for this ask 🤍

[a-substantial-trash-pile]

i love my mom but man does it suck when she starts talking to me about god shit. because it always leads to her trying to guilt trip me into being more religious, saying things like, “it makes your dad and i very sad that you don’t believe in god” and “you’re depressed like this because you don’t talk to god.” when i tell her that choosing not to go to church anymore is one of the few choices in my life that i don’t regret, she gets upset with me. sorry, going to go on a little bit of a rant about family and religion here (specifically catholic/christian), but i’ll stick it below the cut.

usually this convo comes up when my cousin is mentioned, because my mom and my aunt will gush about how my cousin goes to church every sunday. this happened today actually. they ignore the fact that my cousin is still a horribly spoiled, selfish, honestly terrible person who yells at/doesn’t bother to help her physically disabled, sickly mom. my “wonderful church-going” cousin who left to go on a vacation to hawaii with my shit uncle, leaving my aunt alone at home even though she had covid AND had recently broken her back. which led to me having to take 2 weeks off of work at the last minute to go stay with my aunt and take care of her. during those 2 weeks, my “wonderful” 20-something-year-old cousin would repeatedly call my aunt to cry and complain that she wanted to come home because she “didn’t feel good.” and my aunt, laying in bed with her broken back and various other health issues, would baby her. oh, but my cousin goes to church, so that means she’s such a good person! i just don’t get it.

one of the reasons i refuse to go to church anymore is because of this backwards-ass hypocritical way of thinking so many people there seem to have. there’s just this feeling of insincerity to it all where people show up once a week to pat themselves on the back for being “good people”, then gather in the lobby after mass to gossip about the one trans woman who recently joined the congregation (unfortunately this isn’t an example i made up). or later go to the supermarket and yell at an underpaid employee. or go on a hawaii vacation and leave your mom home alone with a broken back.

i attended church from age 1 to age 18. as i grew older, church started to feel more and more suffocating. it got to the point where i was having anxiety attacks during mass. i tried distracting myself with drawing on the pamphlets given out at the front door. and when i was banned from that, i resorted to drawing on my skin, which didn’t last long. i ended up sneaking earbuds in and hiding the wires under my hair and clothes so i could drown out the sounds of church with music. i would just stare at the floor and try to just focusing on breathing, but it was just all too suffocating. i was told that the reason i was feeling and acting this way in church was because “the devil was talking to me.” “the devil” was trying to take me away from church and god, so i needed to stop feeling like this and just pray. that time i started crying in the pew because it all became too much and i felt incredibly overwhelmed? that’s the devil. pray about it. uh, actually, mr. jesus, it was because i have bad social and generalized fuckin anxiety. and also very likely autistic but i haven’t been officially diagnosed until this day. so yeah.

thinking back on it now, it was kind of fucked up. but i don’t blame my parents for how they acted. sometimes i feel a little angry and disappointed about how they handled things, but i don’t blame them. because as i watched kids be baptized, i would hear the priest tell the parents that it was their responsibility to raise their kid to be a good god-fearing person. that it was their responsibility to keep their kid from “straying from the light” and avoiding damnation. i know my parents were told the same thing when i was baptized. that it’ll be their fault if i “stray from the light” and end up getting sent to hell. i just see it as guilt-tripping bullshit. it was my choice to not go to church or follow the religion. i hate that this system has told my parents they should feel guilty about this and that it’s their fault that my soul won’t be saved, because they didn’t “guide me in the lord’s way” good enough. i hate that this system has made me feel like i’ve failed my parents. it’s bullshit.

i’m sure there are churches out there who contain genuinely good, accepting folk. and i’m sure there are people who find comfort in having a religion. i’m glad for them. i’ve just personally have some negative experiences with religion and I’ve learned that it’s just not for me.

i try my best to be a good and kind person. i try really, really hard. i just don’t go to church anymore. the fact that i don’t do this one thing shouldn’t devalue all my efforts.

[aleksanderscult]

Analyzing "Demon in the Wood" (Graphic Novel) - Part 1

(Part 2, Part 3)

First of all, analyzing is a bit over the top because in each picture I'm mostly fangirling than analyzing. This Graphic Novel had us all on the floor with him.

Second, I hope the quality of these pictures will look good. I took them from my phone so my hopes are not high😀.

This will be three parts.

Let's go!

Grisha really didn't stand a chance on how twisted and horrific their existence would seem to otkazat'sya. They're seen as monsters that kill without provocation and hold unnatural powers that they use only for evil purposes.

Being born a Grisha felt like a curse. Condemned to a life of isolation and superstitions that would always surround you.

Are you sure about that?

Generations and generations of lies and fear had produced only more individuals with a desire to hunt Grisha down. It probably felt like a badge of honor to do this job. To kill the people that their "stories" frightened them so much as children.

I actually looove that comparison.

In the beginning, we see otkazat'sya being afraid of the Grisha and their powers. And now we see Grisha being wary that otkazat'sya are around. Both of them fearing each other's presence.

“And what's my name?”

“Madraya 😄😊”

HE'S SO CUTE 😭

He's having a little innocent moment and jokes about it.

But Baghra doesn't even let him have THAT.

A++ parenting from Baghra 👏👏

Congratulations! You succeeded in making him feel depressed 🏆

And just like I've said in the past, the Darkling's "I will strip away all that you know. All that you love. Until you have no shelter but me" is Baghra's "You'll have no one but me" technique that had rubbed off him and he copy pasted it on his relationship with Alina.

He's so embarrassed for the fact that he's afraid of the dark. And he wants to be brave with it 🥹

Somebody hug him please!! 😭😭

There's just something about a Shadow Summoner being afraid of the dark that it's so 🥺👉👈

*fast forwarding hundred years later when he found a person who had the power to cast away that fear*

*cries*

And the way he hurls beneath his blanket 😭

Have you noticed that he doesn't seem happy in any of those faces? Having a false identity for every place he visits and staying hidden, afraid of touching or being close to someone since he could remember himself.

The way he's so mesmerized by the trees around him. Nature makes him so happy!

And Baghra just distracts him from it.

Why is she scolding him for being happy??

Just let him be happy for something. Jesus.

He's only thirteen and he already knows three languages. And then we have Baghra not being satisfied with it. The amount of pressure and responsibility she placed upon him so soon was so great.

Most of the time I just despise Baghra but these scenes make me feel sympathy for her. She wasn't only being scorned for her unusual powers but also for her sex. Being a woman didn't earn her the respect she wanted so she had to become fierce and tough for them to take her seriously.

(Notice how Baghra says "Honesty is always best". The Darkling always wanted honesty from others. Did he take that from his mother as well?)

Look how happy he got once he found out he'll probably see some wild animals!😍

(he eventually got to see those tigers btw🥺)

Completely unrelated with the story but Baghra was so beautiful in her youth! No wonder Aleksander came out so handsome too.

[gravedigginbbydoll]

FELIZ AÑO NUEVO MIS AMORES

This year has been insane for me. I started writing on this app, met some amazing people, formed amazing friendships, got accepted to grad school, got married, and much more.

I’ve struggled a LOT this year with family and irl friendships and depression, along with imposter syndrome and anxiety over what the rest of my life will look like…

But through it, I found this website and so many stories, I got back into my passion for writing… hell working on fanfiction and some of y’all’s own writing inspired me to start an original romance novel ! (It’s very shoddy but I still love it)

I’m so grateful for so many of you but I have to call out of a few of you…bc Jesus Christ id lose my head without y’all.

@eddies-house for always talking to me, understanding me SO DEEPLY, and rambling with me over headcanons. You’re one of the most beautiful, sweetest, big hearted, and creative people I know. Also your imagination and headcanons never fail to get me feeling so emotionalllll. You deserve the world and I hope this new year brings you that and more.

@xxhellfirebunnyxx for always talking to me and listening, fangirling with me, and embracing the cringe. You’re so gorgeous and hilarious, and your smut writing is beyond words. You’re an insanely awesome person and mom (literally how do you do it?!?).You consistently have me dying of laughter as well as giggling and kicking my feet at your smut. The new year better treat you right or I’m kicking its ass.

@cryingglightningg we mostly just recently started talking but I really love our conversations and your wit and outlook on things. I always find our conversations interesting and you’re such a supportive person. I really hope we continue to talk and everything, and I hope the new year is kind to you.

@ghost-proofbaby wellllll I’ll be honest… I was a huge fan of you before we spoke, I obsessed over 24 hours and then The Shire is Burning. You inspired me to actually start writing on here ! And you’ve been nothing but kind AND hilarious every time we speak. I can’t thank you enough for helping me re realize my love for writing. <3 may you have the most wonderful new year.

Some honorable mentions (we may not talk often or at all but I wish you all the best and you’re all literally so amazing and talented): @hellfire--cult @munsonology @reidsbtch @spookykoolkat @eddiesxangel @chrrymunson @bettyfrommars @babygorewhore @lokis-army-77 @trashmouth-richie @blueywrites @storiesbyrhi

And many more (if I haven’t included you, please know this also goes out to every mutual, every person who reads my writing, and everyone who follows me and anyone who may stumble upon this post, I just am super bad at names and I don’t want to drag this on too long): have an amazing new year and an incredible night! You’re all so wonderful and sweet and I can’t imagine life without this fandom and community!

[crazykuroneko]

IWTV S2E01 First Watch Note

The notes I took while watching in case anyone is interested. Under the cut.

Anyway, I'm grateful they have improved the Episode Insider and now it's really something worth watching

• It's still a recap but the score slays already. Omg Daniel Hart you deserve all the awards

• I love how it says episode 8 and the silhouette of war torn Europe.

• On Claudia dreaming: Present Louis holding onto Claudia's diaries to provide a fact in the past

• Delainey is insane. Just from being silent, we could feel how torn Claudia is

• Interesting they gave ep 1 to a new director to set the tone

• So before this interview happened, when Louis still believed he killed Lestat in NOLA, he got to read this edited diaries and didn't understand what Claudia wrote? I mean, imagine reading the bitterness in her words yet you didn't know where they came from. The break down in Ep 7 triggers more memories for him to remember

• I think Daniel is similar to Lestat in a way. The more he's afraid of Armand the more crass he is. That Shah Rukh Khan comment, boy stfu

• It's insane how Louis posed dead Lestat like Jesus. 

• Okay, I'm gonna "translating" DreamStat lines like I did with dead Abigail Hobbs

• The way Dreamstat shows Louis still misses Lestat and starts to ponder if Claudia worth it. The resentment building.

• OH THE LOUSTAT LEITMOTIF AFTER LOUIS SAID SORRY TO DREAMSTAT. slower version of In Throes in Increasing Wonder

• The lines Dreamstat did are so loaded with meanings. Louis' guilt for killing Lestat; his fear that he will come for revenge; his fear that once he's finally in better place, everything will crumble again; and his longing for him just from how intimately they're talking

• Oh, Louis is obsessed to get everything right. That will gradually eat his mental stability 

• Photo of Grace as his wife. Louis you're so funny

• Real Rashid deserves a hell of bonus and a promotion istg

• I don't understand Russian etc, but the use of foreign language and accented English has been smooth so far. A world better than whatever the fuck Mayfair Witches did. And they only had to cover one language.

• "In a landfill and five years of garbage on top." Louis, garbage wouldn't stop him 😭. I wonder where Lestat has been for 5 years tho. Recovering with that many rats are easy. Okay, let's say 3/6 months on rats. Once he gets up, he could kill the first person coming to a landfill. Then it will be smooth sailing. One year tops to recover. Two years, if you'd think he's depressed over Louis killing him idk. 

• The emotion in Claudia's eyes 😭

• "Change the subject when the truth blinds you" Oh, she got him.

• That insane monologue Jacob does. Louis starting to remember which is true which is not (he re-remembers the fall, mind you). 

• So because the blood is bad, vampires there can't get warmer and feel their sadness and sickness as well. And when they want to turn someone, it's either fail or they turn into a revenant. At least according to Louis.

• Oh, Daciana can taste how strong their blood is. How long they can live. 

• I wonder what went through Claudia's head, seeing Daciana emulated herself. She (deservedly, after all his lies) didn't believe Lestat when he said his maker burnt himself. Ofc it didn't make any sense to her ears at that time, burning yourself after you turned someone. But now she witnessed it herself. Someone who could have told her everything, killing themselves after feeling lost and untethered (Daciana lost all of her fledlings)

• "My name is in some of those pages" Louis isn't even listening to his fear. He's deadset on this. And Armand is anxious.

• The face Armand made. Does Louis know he has men around his pinky just for a drop of his affection?

• Louis agreed with Armand to basically shut Daniel up and turn him into a fumble journalist again when he still wants the truth is interesting 

• Is that the groan? It's louder now.

• Daniel's reaction when seeing Loumand walking in together is so funny 🤣

• Wait, Session 7 is Ep 7. There are two sessions in this episode and it's Season 10 now. so, what happened in Season 8?

• The way Lestat is there during the You and Me lines, but it's not really Lestat. It's the embodiment of Louis' doubt on this new life he chose together. The way Claudia sitting there so small; Lestat lovingly softly gazing at her. Oh, Louis so wants to believe his words himself.

• Louis arrives in Paris with desperation to prove that this life is worth it; that killing Lestat was worth it; that he'll get that happiness. Even though he's afraid Lestat will come or it will crumble the moment he reaches it. Oh, Louis.

[ringstarrr]

Hi. If you don't mind, would you mind doing a song fic for Taylor Swift's coney island with either John or George? I just feel like it would work really well, especially these lines: "And do you miss the rogue who coaxed you into paradise and left you there? Will you forgive my soul when you're too wise to trust me and too old to care?"

I Want to Tell You

pairing: john lennon x gender neutral!reader

warnings: angst, depression, self image

author's note: first of all, sorry for going missing for a few months. kinda had a burnout with college and work, but things are getting better - i think, at least.

and i kind of changed this a little lol i know it's a sad song and i made it accordingly, but the end is sweet. i might not be a swiftie but i'm a softie

1966.

It was like living through hell. Why did he have to say that? you’d think every once in a while since the whole bigger than Jesus broke out. John has always been one to make interesting comments - not to say controversial. You knowing him since you met at art school, it didn’t faze you a bit, yet, it was a different thing in America.

“They’re so fucking upright. It’s so phony.” You sought John during one of the tours you went by his side, still his girlfriend, flesh and nail. Now, long married, it’s been a few good months since you last followed beside him. John was getting more distant everyday and you didn’t know what to do.

He emitted his loud and heartwarming laugh. “I know, right?” John escorted you close to his chest, his nose in your hair. “Americans act like we are a bunch of weirdos. We are… different,” John chuckled, free hand hovering his face. “They’re nice. I’m the freak.”

This happened only a year prior to this fiasco. On that occasion, you made it your job to assure John he was an important person to the band and no matter what happened, you’d still be by his side. So far, you had maintained your words and stuck with John - even though he wouldn’t even look at you.

It made you insecure and going back in your head, trying to piece together why he had become such a loner those last months. Without preparation, you began to revisit your time at college, when you two first started dating. You were younger by a few years, and John was living the high of his teddy boy lifestyle. 

He was a heartthrob. There was no other way to describe it.

Every single time you glanced in his direction, John’s eyes were already staring you down. Smiling smugly, he’d shake his head and wiggle his eyebrows. You were left blushing. It was heaven, knowing you caught the attention of someone like him. Your heart could melt just by the sight of him.

At the time, you weren’t looking for a relationship. But John had other plans. He flirted with you every chance he got, always putting some innuendo into everything. Even though you rolled your eyes every single time, you couldn’t deny to yourself how your hands would shake whenever John stormed in your direction. Neither could you say he didn’t make winter feel like a sunny afternoon in spring, considering the speeding beat of your heart and the way he caught your breath.

The memories left you wondering if you had closed your fists around something delicate for this to be happening. The silent tears fell down and you didn’t try to avoid the unstoppable. It was getting overbearing just to breath. When you first met, you thought that maybe 一 you were certain, to be completely honest 一 he’d be the death of you. At the time, the idea brought colour to your cheeks, thinking it’d be because of his antics and how flustered he made you feel. Now, you had the sour taste of knowing why.

Marrying one of the most desired man on the earth, show stopping sensation and global phenomenon was incredibly hard. And the business changed John’s usual upbeat and sarcastic nature. Theses things were still there but he wouldn’t show them as much. It turned him into a depressed and lonely wolf. John was starting to head straight to bed whenever he came home, telling you less and less about his life and what he was going through in his head. 

Yet, you had an idea of why that was.

The press were writing a bunch of articles about all the things he and the boys did and, unfortunately, that included his health. Suddenly every news reporter was a nutritionist and they decided John was getting fat, which was far from the truth. You noticed how John was starving himself for awhile because of it, his self image completely deteriorated and his depression coming to a new highlight low-end. But John wouldn't say a word. You’d ask him, almost plead for him to open up you, but John wouldn't say a word.

In front of the television, you watched him and the band make yet another appearance for an interview. It was difficult for you to admit, but most of the time you heard his voice these days was on the TV. John was pushing you away. After talking to George, Ringo and Paul about the situation, they assured you this wasn’t happening just to you. John was pushing everyone away, whether he knew it or not.

Seeing that happy grin in his face on the telly, a sight you missed dearly, was enough to make your walls crumble down. You sobbed violently, crying out loud. What happened to my baby? Where did my baby go? Your whole body shook and your voice got hoarse by the second. But the moment you heard a car pull into the driveway, you pushed it all back inside, cleaning the tears’ path and clearing your throat. Uptight and anxious, you waited. 

“You watching that crap?” was the first thing he said. John closed the front door, dropping his keys in the coffee table and sitting beside you on the couch. He slid his arm around you, turning you slightly to kiss you with care. After it ended, you two maintained faces close, noses brushing against one another, eyes closed. It was moments like this that made you feel everything was worth putting through. 

“Just watching this group fine young men. They dress pretty well, especially that one” you said, turning a little to the TV, just enough so he could see your index finger pointing in his direction on the screen. 

John snickered. “Nah, he looks like a twat.”

You snuggled your face against his neck, eyes closed. “And how was today, pretty boy?” as you whispered the question you immediately regretted it. John’s body grew rigid, moving away from you. I can’t do anything right.

“Ah,” he shrugged his shoulders, face showing how John cringed at the question. “It was… normal, I guess.” He bit down his lip, drawing in a deep breath. Silence emerged between youc and you wanted to scream. With a sigh, John got up. “Well, I’m taking a shower.” 

Before you could think the decision over once more, you were speaking already. “John, can I ask you a question?” He was midway walking to your shared bedroom, stopping in his tracks. John turned around, confused.

Eyebrows knitted and hands on his waist, he answered. “Yeah, sure you can.” 

“Did I shatter you?” your voice quivered, just a little above a purr. You felt tears threatening to form but you didn’t care. You needed to get it off of your chest, it was killing you. John was startled by the inquiry, eyes wide.

“What makes you think that, love?” He still was by the bedroom, slowly coming back to you.

“You never talk to me anymore, John.” A sorry laugh left your lips as you said it, feeling like a lunatic. “And you used to come to me anytime if you were struggling, to have a laugh... Now you can barely stand to be next to me.” Your eyes flickered to the roof, holding back the emotions in turmoil. “You never ask about me anymore. It’s like you couldn’t give less of a shit sometimes,” you turned your focus back to him and it crashed your feelings. He was crying with a straight face, biting the inside of his cheek. “If this is the long haul, how’d we get here so soon?” 

You managed to get a laugh from him, smiling a bit. After a few seconds, he spoke up. “Sorry for not making you my centerfold,” John pushed the tears away with the back of his hand. “I hate that we turned into this… all because of me,” now it was his turn to cackle like a mad man, hands in his hair.

“It’s okay, John.” You gave him a half-hearted smile.

“No! Of course it’s not, love.” He took a long breath and began tapping his foot against the floor. “You are my wife, for fuck’s sake. I love you and I pushed away? I’m a dick.” John was obviously mad at himself. “I didn’t think it would upset you this much, love. Fuck.”

“Baby…” you cooed, getting up from the couch. You tried to reach for his hands, but he shook them instead.

“Don’t ‘baby’ me. I don’t want your pity.”

“John,” you took hold of his hand, your hold strong and tight. “Shut up. You’ve been through a lot and it’s okay to react like this. But you should be more aware of the fact that there are people that care and worry about you.” You pushed his fringe to the side with your free hand, resting it against his wet cheek. John closed his eyes. “You are not a bad guy, John. Just fucking stupid sometimes,” both of you laughed. 

“What’s a lifetime of achievement if I pushed you to the edge but you were too polite to leave me?” You cringed at that, not agreeing with him.

“I would never leave you, sweetheart. I love you too much,” you said, laughing a little. “Just don’t push me away anymore. I’m always here for you.”

“Sorry for being fucking stupid.”

[i-literally-cant-with-this]

THIS WHOLE THING HAS THE POTENTIAL TO BE ONE BIG 'OL T/W. SO, PLEASE, READ ALL OF THE ⚠️ WARNINGS ⚠️ AND DO NOT PROCEED IF YOU FEEL LIKE THIS IS SOMETHING THAT WILL LEAD YOU TO A DARK PLACE.

T/W = CONSENSUAL CONSENSUAL CONSENSUAL P->V WITH A DR (THERAPIST!SANEMI), ORAL (M->F), BRIEF MENTION OF DRUGGING DRINK, TALK OF DEPRESSION, IMPLIED DESPONDENCY, NOT SHOWERING FOR A FEW DAYS, BROKEN HIPPOCRATIC OATH, THERAPIST!SANEMI FIRES Y/N FROM BEING HIS PATIENT IN ORDER TO PURSUE "OTHER MUTUAL INTERESTS", LITTLE BIT OF CUM TALK, GROSS OVERUSE OF ITALICS CONSENSUAL CONSENSUAL CONSENSUAL

*Anything I missed that you think I should add to the warnings? Horrific spelling/grammar error? Please message me, and I'll see what can be done.*

WC - About 5.5k

Dr. Feel Good

"Hi, Dr. S. I uh, well, I'm not going to be able to make my appointment tomorrow. I'm sorry this is technically less than 24 hours. Bill me for any time you may have lost. Whatev– thanks. Oh, this is y/n, by the way, and it's about 4 o'clock. Bye. You don't have to call me back. Bye."

You pressed the red button on your cell phone and hung up the call with Dr. Shinazugawa's voice-mail and climbed back into your bed. The rain beat against the windows in rhythm with the tears falling to your face.

It was November 1st. Fall was in full swing. And once again, you were not. Your 24th birthday was coming up soon. And you'd fallen into the same routine as last year. Going through the motions: work, family, the few friends you had. But you're fairly certain they were sick of you. So it was just a matter of time before they stopped calling. It's not like you're blowing up their phones to remind them you're still around.

The phone rang. You didn't even bother to see who was calling before you turned it over to silence the assault on your quiet cocoon. [Beep beep]. One more message you won't respond to. "I don't wanna talk. Go away." It started ringing again.

"Fuck, what, hello?" You sniffed and pulled the down comforter off of your face. You didn't want it to sound like you were still in bed as you squirmed around to get comfortable.

"Hello! Y/n? I just got your message." Silence on your end. "Are, are you there?" You cleared your throat. What's the point of talking anymore. "Ah, there you are." Dr. Shinazugawa said a little too cheerfully.

You're surprised by the inflection of his voice. You often thought he was like you; dark. But he was your therapist. You were not his. So you didn't worry about him like you assumed he worried about you. Like you hoped he did. More wasted energy.

"Y/n, c'mon. Will you say something to me?" Sitting up in bed, "Why." You said flatly. You could hear his breath slow a little, and you sort of wondered why his breathing would ease up when you spoke on the other end of the line. You wondered how someone like you could bring ease to anyone.

"Because I wa–" He stopped for a moment. "I need to know you're alright." There was a pregnant pause. "Y/n? Are you? Ok?" You sniffed again. Could he hear you crying? "Will you please come in tomorrow and talk with me?" He could hear the hurt in your words. "I'd like to see you."

"I'll see you next week, Dr. S. Have a nice weekend. Bye." You took the phone away from your ear before you'd even started to say you'd see him at your next appointment. You didn't want to give him that crucial second before disconnection to try and change your mind. He was just your therapist. Not Jesus. Though you could easily find yourself at his feet asking for miracles. No matter, you weren't religious anyway.

You blew your nose, turned your phone and laptop off, and tucked yourself in for the remainder of the day.

***

A loud knocking at the door woke you from another sleepless night. You glanced at the clock, 12:37. Afternoon. You stomped across your apartment to look through the peephole. "Y/n ... you awake? Are you home?" You rubbed the last traces of sleep from your face and contemplated not answering him. "I, I brought coffee. Y/n, please. And I heard you walking around in there."

"Shit. I need to get some rugs in here." He laughed at your grumble and started in again, "If you open the door I won't charge you for the late cancelation notice. That's $120⁰⁰ more you'll have to, hell, I don't know, buy hoodies with?"

A smile warmed its way across your face, and you unlocked the door. "You know me too well, Dr. S. It's a little scary." He handed you the coffee, trapping your hand in his own when your fingers stretched out to take the paper cup. You couldn't help but feel small when it registered that he was intentionally touching you. Your eyes met, and just as quickly, you pulled away from him. Nothing about that meant anything.

"They were out of the cups they usually use, so it's in one meant for hot drinks. But, caramel ribbon crunch, extra crunch. Is that right? That's your favorite, right? Anyway, I'm sure you're sick of hearing me ask you this. But are you? Ok, I mean. Why did you cancel the appointment? May I?" He gestured to the black leather couch in your dark living room, and you nodded. "Dr. S, are you trying to therapize me in my own home? Tch, on my couch, too. For shame." He sat down leaning back and casually crossed his left leg over his right, his ankle sat on top of his knee. "There are plenty of other things to do on a leather couch, y/n. Treating you is far from the worst of them." He smiled slyly at you. It made your cunt clench.

A weird look spread over his face. It started at his eyes and continued down to his mouth. Your paranoia and social ineptitude reared their ugly heads.

"Ex-excuse me for a moment, please. I …" You turned your palms over, raising them with your shrugging shoulders, "make yourself … comfy." He nodded, "By all means." You went to your bedroom and threw on something that didn't smell like it was a week old and checked your breath/hair/eyes/pits & tits. Fixing what was needed, you went back out to the living room.

You found Dr. Shinazugawa looking over the photos you had on the fireplace mantel. Pictures from your childhood to adolescence to last Christmas. "You look really happy in these photos, y/n." Dr. S said. You rolled your eyes and caught yourself immediately. "Shit," you said, rubbing your palms down your face.

"Y/n, what do I say about rolling your eyes?" You started to roll them again but caught it.

"There's nowhere more important to look than forward. Yeah, yeah, doc. Ok."

He smiled. Proud that he thought of something he felt was so profound (even though you thought it was cliché) and that you finally remembered the whole thing. "What are your plans for the near future? Anything exciting with friends, uh, how's the dating game – maybe a date?" He asked, the smile fading quickly from his face.

"Oh, well I am having high tea at The Ritz with Prince Harry and Meghan at 2. And then I was going to my guitar lesson with Jimi Hendrix at 3:30. Uhm, I had one more thing planned but I completely forg–"

Dr. Shinazugawa stood up and walked over to you. He was unnervingly close as you prattle on about your pretend plans. He looked at you like he was conflicted about what he wanted to say. What he wanted to do. He studied your face closely.

"Dr. S.?" You said, suddenly realizing how fucking attractive he is. His white hair was cut choppy and it was slicked back enough that it mostly stayed out of his way. Though some pieces fell in front of his face. He had muscle. He had tattoos. He had scars. All of which stuck out from the white v-neck cashmere sweater he wore. His black cropped pants hem sat a few inches above his ankle. He wore old-school Vans. The man was a walking orgasm. How had you never noticed this about him before?

"I wonder if maybe you shouldn't find a new doctor? I feel like more and more you've been canceling your sessions left and right and this chemistry spans beyond the typical doctor/patient relationship between us. Unless I've been imagining you undressing me with your eyes for the last 5 months?"

Ow. "Um, n–no. Pffft. And I don't want a new doctor. I want you. You're the only one in my life who gives a shit if I pick up the phone. You're so good you came to me. No one else would do that. I know they wouldn't." You could feel your heart snapping into pieces with each of his coercions to find someone else to hear your deepest and darkest confessions. "And I *scoff* heh, undressing you? That's highly inappropriate, doctor. But, um, why? Why ... would you have a problem with that?" Settle the fuck down, y/n.

"Do you want me to answer that from the perspective of me being a man in the presence of a woman? Or as a doctor? Your doctor?" He walked over to the couch and beckoned you to sit with him. Though it ought to have been pins and needles you were sitting on. It ought to have been him you were sitting on.

"What ... Dr. S?"

His face rested in his hands before he looked into your eyes. It was so hard to read his expression. His pupils were dilated. His lips turned to a frown and his brow furrowed creating deep lines in his perfect face.

Dr. Shinazugawa sighed and looked at you for a moment before reaching out to your face. "Y/n, I want you to know something." Your heart was starting to rattle against your chest. Fuck.

"What I'm about to do is not coming from Dr. Shinazugawa. It– it's coming from me, Sanemi. Ok? Is that ok?"

He picked a couple of pieces of your hair that had fallen from behind your ears and gently tucked them back into their tight little space.

"Ah, fuck." He said moving his hands to his lap and breaking eye contact with you.

You, on the other hand, had never wanted him to look at you more.

"Y/n." He said your name like it hurt his lips to let it slide past them.

"What is it, Jesus. Did my insurance not pay for the sessions or something? You're being weird."

He reached his hand up and ran his fingers across your cheek.

"Is this ok?" He whispered. His eyes were nearly all dark as he tickled the invisible hair on your face.

Your eyes shot open at the touch. "Doc–tor." Was all you could manage to say. He put his index finger up to your mouth and traced your lower lip. "Mm-mm. Not doctor. Just ... just Sanemi. If, if you'll have me.

"You're beautiful, y/n." He said that so quietly that you barely heard him. You're so shocked you can hardly speak.

"Pardon?" Your e/c eyes are huge, looking at him like you've never seen him before. "Did ... did you just say I'm beautiful?"

"I've tried everything to keep myself from thinking about you. I have to jerk off in my locked office before you come in for your appointment. If I don't – sweet Jesus, if I don't I have to keep my legs crossed for the full 55 minutes just to keep my cock from bursting through my zipper like a professional ball player pitched it. You have no idea how hard it is for me to sit there and listen to you talk about how you have no friends or hobbies. And how you despise the dating scene because all the guys you meet are morons. But you're so ... ahh, y/n. I can't see myself making it through one more appointment with you. You drive me up a wall. Just sitting there. Bitching about everything. I want to rip your pants off and make you feel something –! Shit. Shit!" He huffed out the air that sat in his lungs throughout his whole spiel. His chest was heaving as he tried to compose himself. Not doing a very good job.

"Holy shit." You sat there dumbstruck as you were so taken aback by his comments about your personal life – the truth he'd so cautiously worked out of your walled-in personality over the last 5 months. You couldn't think of a way to defend yourself against his stupid but keen observations.

"For starters, Sanemi," His eyes lit up at your use of his name. "I hate dating because men my age are all dipshits. My friends, I may not have a lot. But I prefer quality over quantity. As for hobbies, well ... well fuck you. That's my hobby."

"Well, that's one hell of a hobby, y/n." He laughed as he looked back and forth between your slightly open mouth, your tits, and your eyes.

You blushed, but it was more out of anger than feeling cute. "I know."

"Please, y/n. Dont hate me. This comes from a selfish place, but I really, really need you to understand. Please ..." Sanemi leaned over and pressed his lips into yours. So slowly at first. You wanted more. All of him. He put his hands around your thighs as he leaned more into you, and his tongue pushed its way into your mouth.

You moaned and kissed him back as every milligram of your better judgment told you not to. But his reciprocated moan snapped you back to your senses, making you pull away and wipe your mouth off, feigning disgust. More, give me more.

"What–what the fuck was that! Isn't this against the law or something? My god!" You moved to sit across the room on the floor. Follow me. Kiss me again. Pour yourself into me. Rip me apart, put me back together, and do it again.

"No." He was so relaxed about the whole thing. Him showing up at your apartment. Bringing you your favorite coffee. Waving the fee. It was like he'd planned this and he was testing the waters with you.

"Wh–what do you mean no?"

"It's not illegal. Not if you're not my patient anymore. If you don't find a different therapist then, yeah, probably. But–"

You cut off his defense. "I'm going to need a therapist just to work through this shit, Dr. S. Jesus."

He couldn't help but laugh at your theatrics. "I told you, call me Sanemi."

"What's so funny? Hm? Why now? Why me?" Not that knowing the answer to these things would help you understand any better why he was risking losing his license to practice just to profess his affection for you.

"I've tried to tell you before: You're smart and fucking hilarious. We have the same sick sense of humor. You're a mess, a hot fucking mess. You're the funniest person I've ever met, y/n. Why now? I don't know. Maybe I can't risk losing someone who makes me feel this way. Maybe I just want to hold you and be held by you. Maybe I'm attracted to damaged women and their ability to overcome. I don't know what else to tell you except that you're fired. I will no longer see you professionally, y/n."

"Damaged 'women'?" You glared at him and started to take a drink of what he brought you, then you stopped, "Wait ... you didn't, you didn't drug me, did you?!"

He smiled. "No. I prefer to have these types of conversations with conscious people. Not that I've had this conversation a lot! Or, or ever! This is the first time I've ever fallen for a p– well. For you. You're the first time. The first patient of mine I've fallen for. And I meant damaged 'woman'. Just you. My mistake." He smiled at you. Comfortingly. Showing off his perfect white teeth. Like he was drawing your focus from his argument to one more of his many good features. Take me away from here.

You wanted to feel his lips again. Is it that unheard of? People fall for other people all the time, regardless of social status. Regardless of their job. When it boils right down to it, we're just human. Right?

"Y/n, I know what you're thinking. And if you consider it, strip me –" his phone rang, and he pulled it out to see who was calling. "Ok, it was just an alarm. Sorry. Where was I?"

You sat there practically drooling, "The ... the last thing you said was 'strip me' and your alarm went off." Your face was not doing a very good job of hiding where your thoughts had drifted. You looked dizzy and hot. Your lips sat perfectly spaced apart and he couldn't help but notice how your body had changed in such a short amount of time. Please.

"Strip me? Oh! Yeah, strip me of my title and I'm just any other guy. I'm human. We're all humans. Just trying to find someone to climb into bed with at the end of the day."

"Yeah. Yeah, I suppose you're right." You admitted, still sounding unsure of the whole situation to his trained ears.

"I don't know how else to explain this to you. My mom is fucked up. My sisters are fucked up. They're the kind of fucked up I know and love. They're funnier than hell and they'd lay their life down for anyone they cared about. But are they ... shit. How do I phrase this? Are they mentally 'sound'? Mmehh. But they're some of the most amazing people I know. You'd fit in in our family quite nicely. My sisters want to meet y–"

He stopped himself and your ears perked up. "Your sisters want what? They want to meet me? Oh my god! How much did you tell them about me!" You stood from the floor to pace around. "Now that I know is against the law! You, you ... HIPAA rule breaker! I should turn you in!" What did you tell them about me?

"Oh ... no no no no! Please don't! I haven't told them anything specific about you! Jesus. Of course, I haven't. They don't even know that you're a regular ..." He couldn't bring himself to say the word 'patient' one more time.

"You need to find someone who, well, who isn't me. I have to see where this goes, y/n." He started at you like he was a statue. Molded and still. Concentrating only on what was in front of him and unable to let his attention fall anywhere else.

You took off your sweater and leaned against the wall in your black tank top and yoga pants. You didn't notice the thin strap hanging off of your shoulder.

Sanemi stood from the couch and glanced over your body for a moment before he took a step toward you. "So ...?"

"So ... what?" You said. "What do you want me to say, Dr. S? If that's even your real name."

"Y/n. You're acting craz–" You cut him off before he could finish the sentence.

"I thought that's how you liked your women!" He couldn't tell if you were being facetious or not. But he was having a hard time maintaining the small distance between the two of your heated bodies. Now or never.

Sanemi threw his hands up in the air and was in front of you in a heartbeat. "Why are you being so fucking obstinate! I'm standing here telling you how I feel and you're just ... you're so ... bahhhh! Fuck this!" He ducked down and flung you over his shoulder. "Where's your room. Where is it!" He demanded.

"What the hell do you think you're doing! P–put ... me ... d–" You lost any fight you had in you when his hand ran over your ass. "Fuck, Dr. ... S–Sanemi."

He flipped you over onto your bed and leaned over you. His breathing was heavy, his eyes were wide and hair had fallen into his face. You reached a shaking hand up to brush it aside but he grabbed your wrist and slammed it down on the bed.

"I. Asked. You. A. Question, y/n. Why do you insist on making this so difficult for me?" He slammed your hand down against the bed again and drove this muscular thigh between your legs, nestling it against your soaking cunt.

You didn't even flinch. You slid down a bit so you could feel the delicious pressure against your aching core.

"Like I have an answer for that, Dr. S." You spat out. You tried to reach for him with your other hand and he grabbed it, too. Slipping both of your wrists into his much larger hand and holding you down against the unmade bed.

"I'm sorry. I've just had these feelings for you for a long time. And they've been driving me up a wall. You're so completely checked out. It's frustrating and fascinating at the same time. You have no idea how much I look forward to seeing you come walking through my door. Your hair is in a fucking wreck of a bun on top of your head. No make-up. Stained sweatshirts and your black leggings with pockets. I fucking want you. Every broken little piece of you. I want to swallow it and make it mine forever. Open up. Here comes the airplane.

"I'm ... sorry?" You said quietly, looking over at your wrists in his hands.

"You should be." He growled at you. "I've been waiting months for you. Months. Months upon months of making sure I have enough time to squeeze out at least one load before you saunter in, completely oblivious to what I was doing."

He was so hard, pressing into your trembling thigh. Give yourself to me.

"Dr. Shinazugawa?"

"What!" He said, very clearly annoyed with your inability to see past the way things are.

"You've still got my wrists."

"I know I do. Do you want me to let go?" He said, but he was not letting go.

"And it's Sanemi." He corrected.

"Sanemi." You said his name and he groaned. He rolled his hips into your thigh as he pressed his face into your neck. The only reaction he got from you was you moving your body toward him.

"You smell so fucking good. Jesus I've been wanting to do this since the moment you walked into my office." His breath was shaky as he inhaled your perfumed skin. "What is that?" He asked with his tongue lightly grazing your skin as he took it into his mouth.

"Do you want the truth?" You asked as you tilted your head more to the side so he could stuff his face even deeper into you.

"Yes, yes. Always tell me the truth, y/n."

"Th–that's just me. It's been a day or three since I've showered. Sorry if that's too gross." You shrugged off any shame you had about this. Quite positive that he's both heard and seen worse than you in your somewhat dirty clothes smelling more like yourself today than any other time you've met with him.

He pulled back and looked at you.

"I don't care if you've not showered. I am not walking away from this. From you. I want you. Period. Full stop."

Your face flushed red. "Wh–what did you just say?"

"Fuck! Do I have to draw you a diagram? I want you. Showered or not." He let go of your wrists pulled his shirt up over his head and tossed it on the floor. "Is that ok?"

Your eyes shamelessly took in all of his exposed skin. The scars that spread across his chest were jagged and pale in comparison to the rest of the slightly more tan skin. The tattoos. The fucking tattoos. Large blacked-out pieces cover his muscular arms. There was a katana that started at his sternum and went down ... how far, you didn't know. But the way things were going, you had a feeling you'd soon be finding out where it ended.

"Y/n." His voice was rough and deep.

"Oh. Uh. Uhm. Wow. What did you just say? I ... sorry. I spaced for a second."

He sighed and asked you again if you wanted him to stop. You sat up right away and wrapped your arms around his neck.

"Doct– I mean, Sanemi," You said, hesitating for a second as you traced the tip of your nose around his. Your breathing was getting heavy and your eyes were halfway closed. Your brows were pinched together so tightly that if something didn't happen, you'd end up with a massive headache from the unnatural amount of time they'd been like that.

Sanemi put his fingers to your face to massage the little forehead knot you wore. You melted forward into his hand.

"What's wrong? Do – are you ok? Fuck. Sorry, I didn't mean it like that. Is this ok?" He lifted your shirt off of you and sat it on the bed. You blushed even deeper than earlier and covered yourself.

You shook your head, "I ... I need to shave. I wasn't expecting to be ... with someone today. God this is fucking humiliating. Why do you even like me?"

He grabbed your hips and pulled you up on his lap. His fingers ran over the skin on your ribs.

"I love that you're real. That you're so open and honest. You're beautiful and vulnerable, y/n. Stinky, unshaven and all. Ok?"

"I ... I stink?" You laughed and stuck your face down into the crease of your armpit and then laughed and stopped. The look in his eyes was like nothing you've seen before. It was wild and had a certain restrain all at once. Let go of the reigns.

You leaned in and kissed him. Slowly at first. But it quickly grew to sudden and sloppy movements around each other's bodies. Faces. Necks. Chests. Abdomen. You began to rub yourself against the bulge of his cock. It felt so good you let little noises dance into his ear. "Oh, god you feel s'good." Sanemi, I want to feel you everywhere around me.

"Sanemi, shit. I ..."

He pulled you closer to him and kissed your collarbone from one side to the other. His hands gripped the fat of your ass tightly like he was afraid you were going somewhere.

You shivered, his mouth was hot on your neck and the feeling of his breath against you wasn't quite scratching the itch that was growing under your skin. The friction of your bodies grinding against the other was a frustrating reminder that this all was just out of reach.

You ran your hands down his abs and back up onto his shoulders. He pulled back and looked at you. "Speak." He said with a hint of humor.

"You... you, with your shirt ... off. And, god I really want to know what the rest of that katana tattoo looks like," you said as you snuck a peek at the stretched fabric where his cock was hidden away.

"Take a look." You scooted off of his lap and sat down next to him on the bed as he lay down and stretched out. "Here. Have at it." He gestured to his belt and pants to be removed and he folded his arms behind his head, watching your every move and basking in your reactions.

You moved to his thighs and walked your fingers up to unbutton and unzipped his pants.

Sliding them down his legs, taking his boxers with them, you saw it.

"Fuck, Sanemi ..." You were struck dumb at the sight of his tattooed cock.

"Yeah?"

"I want to ... can I touch you? I mean, it? I mean, is that ok?"

"Yes. C'mere." He grabbed you and pulled you up his body and flipped you onto your back. "But I want to do this first."

"Do wh– ahh!" You weren't expecting him to completely overturn you. But he did and he let his fingers course up the front of your yoga pants. "Let me get a little taste, huh?"

"Oh! Well, I... " You blushed and watched as he pulled your pants down.

"You don't wear underwear, y/n? Or ... just ..."

Your hand flew to your face. "I need to do laundry. God. I could die of embarrassment right now!"

"Y/n. I don't care. It's hot as fuck. Now shut up and let me go down on you."

"But –"

He put his hand over your mouth. "Shut. Up."

"Hmmkm." You barely manage to squeeze your compliance through his warm hand.

"I have been dying to stick my tongue in this wet little pussy of yours. Can I?" He licked his lips like a starved man.

"Mhm, yes, please..." Your face was bright red, but you were not embarrassed. It suddenly felt like the air had been sucked out of the room. You wanted so badly to breathe, but there was only Sanemi. There is nothing else to draw life from. So you did what you knew you wanted to do all along and spread your legs for him in hopes he could renew your faith. In anything.

"I have to have it. I have to taste you. I have to feel you." He whispered as his hands moved up the insides of your legs, spreading them apart. He pushed your knees back against your chest and buried his face between your thighs.

His tongue ran the length of your wet slit and his groan was muffled. He held onto the back of your knees as his tongue lapped at the pool of your juices. He moaned, the vibration adding to the growing pleasure you were feeling.

"Ahh. S–Sanemi ..."

You could feel the heat growing in the pit of your stomach. You tried to close your legs but he wouldn't let you. He was leagues stronger than you. Your legs were no match for his arms.

"Sanemi! Oh, fuck! It - I - ahh god!"

You came all over his face. Your thighs trembled around his ears and your eyes were clamped shut as you tried to hold onto the moment, but you lost it.

You looked down between your legs at Sanemi. He wiped his chin off on his forearm and pushed his hair back from his forehead. His eyes were intense and focused.

"You're mine, y/n. Don't forget it."

"Sanemi." Your voice was so quiet. "I don't think I could ever forget that."

"Good." He slid his hands up your legs and pushed them back again. You could feel his tip press against your sopping entrance.

"Are you ready for me?"

"Oh, shit, Sanemi ..."

He pushed himself into you.

"Ahhh, fuuuuuck. Goddamn it, y/n. You're so fucking wet."

He bottomed out inside of you and groaned. You were so tight. Your walls were squeezing his cock so well. He pulled out and slammed back into you, burying his face in of your chest, nipping at your skin as he pumped his hips.

"S'nemi, fuck. That's ... hmm, so fucking good..."

"That's it, that's my girl, y/n."

His hands slid under your back and grabbed your shoulders. His pace slowed for a moment as he rolled his hips against you, grinding himself deeper into your body.

You had no idea this could feel so amazing. His body weight fell down on you. And the way his hands were holding you in place. It made your body tremble in his grasp. You were completely at his mercy. And you loved it. You wanted it all. You wanted all of him.

"More. God, Sanemi. Please, please. Deeper!"

He picked up his pace and fucked you with abandon, slamming himself into you without regard for anything but the pleasure you two were carving out of each other. His body was hot and he was dripping sweat. His balls slapped harshly against your ass each time he drove into you. Tiny droplets of your juices sprayed around on his thighs.

"Fucking take it, y/n. Take my cock."

"Yes. Fuck. Yes, Sanemi."

"Shit, I'm gonna cum."

"Hmm, me too."

"Yeah? Gonna cum on my cock?"

"Yes, Sanemi! FUCK!" You were so close. "Don't stop. Fuck, don't ... stop. Just... A... YES! FUCK!"

"Shit. Fuck! You're so fucking good, y/n. Cum on my cock, baby. All over me, cum."

You couldn't breathe. You were so full. He took up the space where every void resided in you. You finally felt something other than being put on pause. The world moved, and you wanted to move with it. You wanted to move with him.

The dam is cracking.

He looked at you with new wonder as the tears ran down the sides of your face.

"Are you ok, y/n?" He asked.

"I'm so, so good right now. You can stop asking me that." You half laughed/half sobbed.

"Y/n. My girl, I will never stop asking you that."

╭────── · · ୨୧ · · ──────╮

Thank you – Sarah

╰────── · · ୨୧ · · ──────╯

[fanfic-corner]

Marvel Humor Fics

As much as I love angst, I also love to laugh at some of the predicaments my poor blorbos get into! So here are some of my favourite humor fics from the Marvel fandom.

He's a Real... Bare... Devil? by 94BottlesOfSnapple (772)

The real problem with no longer wearing body armor, Matt considers, is not actually the higher risk of injury. It’s that sometimes even when you don’t get hurt, you still end up mostly-naked in an alley that smells like day-old Chinese takeout.

Daredevil manages to lose his clothes while on patrol with the Defenders. They only make fun of him a little.

Footie Pajamas by Triscribe (1.1k)

*What?* Tony demanded. *What is it, what’s wr-*

“Ohmygosh, Mister Stark! It’s too cute!” Peter beamed from ear to ear. “There’s a little girl in the car next to me wearing Spider-man footie pajamas!”

Silence reigned for a long moment, before Tony burst out laughing.

How (Not) to Meet New People by aloneintherain (1.4k)

“Why is there a teenager in our office?”

Foggy stood in the threshold of the office, mouth slightly agape, most likely wondering if he’d walked into the wrong building. The kid waved at him, smile huge under a blooming black eye and spilt lip.

“Foggy,” Matt said, far too calm for someone who was in the presence of a beaten, bloodied, teenage stranger. “This is Peter.”

oh, jesus, not the both of you! by FRAMEW0RK (1.6k)

He’s gonna pass out.

Yup, it’s happening. Foggy can only tell because he’s passed out before, when he was twelve, after he got his finger smashed in the large metal door of their cooler. The intense pain first. Then the cold flash, then the sweating, and then the spots surrounding the corners of his vision. All of that was going on. In the middle of a courtroom. Surrounded by tons of watching people.

“Mr. Nelson?” the Judge calls out. He probably looks awful. His mother told him that he went deathly pale before he passed out the first time. Didn’t she take a video? He remembers there being a video. Is the room spinning or is that just him?

“I think ’m passing out,” Foggy mumbles thickly, hand flailing out for purchase but getting nothing on his fingers. The world was starting to go underwater. Someone yelled, and then there’s this gasping sound all around and then there’s darkness and nothing.

Team Red by SalazarTipton (1.9k)

“Ned, for the last time, I’m not going as any of the Avengers! Can you imagine what would happen if they found out? They’d think I had a favorite and--” “But you do have a favorite,” Ned interjects. Peter throws one of his fries at him. “That’s not the point! They don’t know that and can I remind you that you’re forbidden to talk about that? Going to the Tower would be hellish. Can you imagine Mr. Barton and Mr. Stark trying to prove they’re the better choice?”.

when the pretty birds have flown (honey, I'm still free) by the_crown_jules (2.1k)

“I can talk to birds,” Sam said, a little more loudly than the situation warranted.

Bucky's lips twitched, a battle playing out between his attempt to take Sam seriously and his clear desire to snicker. Laughter won out, lighting up his face in a way that was becoming more and more familiar.

“You’re such an asshole. Okay, Torres, I assume you’re listening, you can go now, you’ve had your fun.” He looked around as if he’d be able to spot Torres watching them on camera. “What is this, Falcon initiation?”

New Year's Regrets by whumphoarder (2.5k)

In the midst of hosting his annual New Year’s party, Tony is called away to rescue a very impaired Peter from a rooftop in Queens.

Happy Hibernation Day by for_the_night (2.7k)

Tony and Pepper return to the tower on Valentine’s Day to find Peter asleep on the couch. Only he won’t wake up.

Good job neither pseudo-parent panics.

throw all your lucky coins on me by keep_swinging (3.2k)

i. shock (denial) ii. pain (guilt) iii. anger (bargaining) iv. depression v. the upward turn vi. working through vii. acceptance (hope)

Sorta Kinda Kidnapped by happyaspie (3.5k)

Peter gets kidnapped on his way to school. It's fine, though. He's perfectly capable of saving himself. It happens so fast and it's so uneventful that he forgets to tell Tony it even happened. Until the kidnappers call to collect their ransom.

Not Completely the Worst by mainstreamelectricalparade (4k)

Peter's spidey-sense had been going off all day. If he had to stay at school for literally another minute longer, he was probably going to go insane.

And of course, there was one person at school whose single goal in life seemed to be ensuring that that happened.

“Yo, Penis! Where are you off to in such a hurry?” Flash called after Peter as he took the steps three at a time in his attempt to make a quick getaway.

Peter squeezed his eyes shut in exasperation and kept walking. Maybe if he ignored the problem, it would go away.

Because that had always worked so well for him, in the past.

Don’t Judge a Knife by Its Color by blondsak and Grace_d and whumphoarder (4.4k)

“Whoa, hold up, hang on,” he says, taking a step closer to get a better look. The blade is probably four inches long and neon purple, while the handle is white with a friendly-looking colorful silicon grip. “Is that a toy knife? Is this a Fisher Price mugging?”

“Fuck you, Spidey,” the mugger replies, fumbling for the knife before scrambling back to his feet and brandishing the weapon at Peter.

Or, Peter is stabbed by a misleading knife, Tony plays a high stakes game of Operation, and May retains the one brain cell.

Dollicia Elizabeth Cowleen the Third by Spideypool_supremacy (4.6k)

Peter frowned. "Why do you have such an obsession with that cow?"

"Getting jealous, Pumpkin?"

Peter looked at him, unimpressed. "Oh no. A cow is stealing all your affection. Whatever will I do." He said sarcastically.

Wade grinned. "Don't worry, Petey. I love you both the same."

"That's actually insulting."

quaranteens by blueh (6.6k)

“Peter Parker,” Cindy says. Peter’s head snaps up so fast that it almost looks inhuman. “Did Tony Stark just waltz in and pick up his child in the background of your Zoom call?”

Peter freezes. Wide-eyed, with ‘guilty’ written on his forehead in 72, bold, Times New Roman font. It takes a solid thirty seconds before he can put himself together enough to click the unmute button.

“I—no?” Peter says. His voice is startlingly high pitched and his expression is nothing short of horrified.

Damn, if that isn’t anything but a confession.

The Glass of Sand and Fog [Fan Comic] by neonbrutalism (7k)

"To be honest, I think time is scary enough without a giant axe clock." "What, worried about getting old? Daredeviling getting hard on your knees?" "No, no... It's hard to explain."

Another day, another villain, another kidnapping. Foggy gets kidnapped, Matt avoids awkward conversations, they both suffer from an inability to talk about their feelings and Kirsten is no help at all!

Learning To Say Hello by heartsdesire456 (11k)

Clint had woken up one morning about three weeks ago (Well, Clint guessed about three. Definitely more than one. Maybe.) and stumbled down to the living room only to realize there was a guy on his couch. The guy just happened to be the Winter Soldier, who Clint knew was actually Steve’s old best friend, Bucky Barnes.

Barnes had been having a staring contest with Lucky (one eye shut, to make it fair, Clint had noticed) and Clint had decided to just leave him to it and make decisions after he’d had some coffee.

(In which Hawkeye befriends the Winter Soldier and discovers the Epic Love Story of Steve and Bucky nobody knows about)

but what is a hero, really? by mjscorner (17k)

"Flash," Peter pleaded breathlessly, "you don't want to do this, okay? They're armed. Trust me, you don't understand."

"No, I think I do understand," Flash scoffed, unsurprised. "You've been a loser your whole entire life, but everyone here still adores you. Well, I'm done dealing with that, okay? Time for me to be a hero."

Peter's heart sank as Flash bumped into his shoulder and marched forward.

He stopped before rounding the corner when the faint sound of a gun being cocked echoed throughout the hall, freezing Flash right in his place. Peter turned on his heel in an instant, standing beside Flash protectively.

"But-but what is a hero, really?" Flash croaked with a nervous smile, side-eyeing the weapon suspended beside him as it softly nudged the side of his skull. 

Peter slowly raised his hands in surrender, staring at Flash until he did the same, dropping the cans of pepper spray and the walkie talkies.

"We are so, so, so monumentally screwed."

Let Me Know if It Gets Above a Six by Sundial_at_Night (65k)

“Mr. Loki?” asked the Spider cautiously. “Aren’t you—like—a bad guy?” he asked, voice full of only curiosity, as far as Loki could tell.

His first thought was, yes.

His second thought was no.

His third thought was, sometimes?

“It varies from moment to moment,” Loki answered honestly, prying his eyes open after they threatened to fall close.

“But on a scale of one to ten, where are you at right now?”

“Maybe a three?”

The Spider-child nodded. “Cool,” he replied. “Let me know if it gets above a six.

The Devil's Hangin' 'Round My Doorstep by 94BottlesOfSnapple (96k)

There’s a lot of things Matt Murdock doesn’t allow himself. His best friend is one of them. But put on a mask and suddenly everything seems so freely available, Foggy included. On the other side of the coin, Foggy’s still trying to stifle his big bisexual crush on his best friend and has no idea what to think of the vigilante who’s suddenly and inexplicably taken an interest in him.

it's always who is spider-man, never how is spider-man by i_regret_thatpersonalityquiz (176k)

"Stay?"

Peter finally looked down to see Harley Fucking Keener, Iron Lad, the boy who had caused his shoulder to be throbbing all night, looking away with a slight tint to his cheeks. Peter opened and closed his mouth, no sound coming out.

And he sat back down.

OR: Peter had been living on the streets, dealing with your average homeless vigilante stuff. Things got a bit more complicated when the Avengers started to chase him down.

I hope you enjoy these!! I'll have to make a part two at some point because there's so many brilliant fics to share. Thank you to all the fabulous writers who shared these fics with us, and happy reading!

[porkcutletbowl44]

So I will write this ask while reading chapter 16 because my mind is too smooth to do it afterwards.

frist of all, SINCE WHEN CAN YOU TWIST OPEN A BEER BOTTLE BABY GIRL BEER BOTTLES ARE NORMALLY CAPS ONLY THE CHEAP ONE IN PASTIC IS WITH A TWIST OPENING

damn my german ass came out for a sec. But i really think they would have proper beer. The shit in the plastic bottles is piss with the wrong label on it and I don't even like beer to begin with LOL But it seems they are into it which… damn kinda sad but I guess that's a german thing to see cheap beer as a crime 😭💀

God, I love the interactions with the boys sooo much! It's so funny and makes me miss my old friend group. well at least the good parts of it and that wasn't much to being with 🥴

microwaving cereal 😭😭😭 I'm laughing so hard right now omg I never was drunk in my 24 years of living so it always makes me the one who holds the hair or fight of the guys who think they could get a quick fun. No fun with me, I will ruin they're night for good haha Only got tipsy twice and the first time I kinda regret because I didn't register how much the one dude overstep the line with this one girl. Mind you I just met her at the party but she was so sweet. God I would have beaten the living shit out of him. Still hate him to this day and he is a close friend of my cousin which is like a sister to me. Damn sorry for the rant LOL

NO HE DOES NOT ACT LIKE THIS MY GOD THIS MAN MAKES ME SO MAD I never wanted to punch a character in a fic so much as I want to punch Simon. Wtf is he thinking? Mf was cheating, is engaged with another woman who makes our life way too hard and he thinks it's all fine and dandy to tell us that WE are selfish??????

Jesus fucking Christ, Keegan needs to punch the shit out Simon. Holy moly macaroni i'm so mad

"Rank ain't gonna save you from a broken nose."

OMG JUST DO IT! BEAT HIM OMG PLS

I don't get it. I DON'T HIM! WHAT THE HELL IS WRONG WITH THIS MAN

of course Keegan is a sweet boy like always. How he can hold back not to give us small kisses is beyond me but ok. Well maybe because I'm someone who gives affection to everyone that is close to me, be it friends or family.

YES MY FAVORITE DADDY IS FINALLY HERE! Was about time that Price is joining! God, he is so sweet. He always reminds me of a Berniece Mountain dog! Big, gentle, protective and efficient at work. They are one of my fav dogs so maybe I'm a bit biased haha

wow, the fact that he called it out all those years ago? John knows Simon really well. We should have listened to him more. On the other hand, he also said, Simon would never hurt us and now look at this mess. My God, I just feel so sorry for our girl.

Jesus every time we get a flashback of better times... I makes heart so heavy. This story feels so real, like we're a fly on the wall that watches a tragedy unfold.

Please give me a man like Price, he is such a sweet mew mew

not me almost crying at his little speech of how much he cares for her 😭😭

Song recommendation: Another Life - Motionless in White

HIIIII! it's wonderful hearing from you again I hope all is well! 🫶🏻💛

Tbh, I did a little research about beer in the UK, and some of it is similar to the US aluminum caps lol

And, I'm not sure if you read chapter 17 yet, so I'll refrain from commenting on the Simon rant to avoid spoilers 🫠

Peepaw Price cures depression for FREE. that's free therapy and I'm taking it!! 🏃🏻‍♀️🏃🏻‍♀️🏃🏻‍♀️

(MOTIONLESS IN WHITE MENTION RAAAAHHHHHHHHHH💖💖💖)

[tellthemeerkatsitsfine]

Next set of my thoughts on the NextUp livestreams, Delightful Sausage edition. Brief summary: I expected the Chris Cantrill and Amy Gledhill ones to be my favourite NextUp-streamed Edinburgh shows this year, and there are still a bunch I’ve not watched yet but I still feel confident in saying I expected correctly.

Wow. Watched those back-to-back today and I enjoyed that so much. It’s so cool to see them both putting on such high-quality shows separately after all the very funny stuff they’ve done together, and obviously today is a good day to be Amy Gledhill.

I paid a relatively rare visit to Instagram today to see all the people talking about Edinburgh Awards and things, and the pictures of Chris Cantrill looking very happy for her are extremely sweet, and make me feel bad for having made some jokes that getting nominated for the same award will tear apart a double act like it did to Peacock & Gamble. Peacock & Gamble had other issues, not everyone's Peacock & Gamble. Sometimes people are all right and delight in a teammate’s success. They're melting my cold competitive heart.

I watched Chris Cantrill’s show first, wasn’t really sure what to expect as it looked like a straight stand-up show, but the description also said some shit about Medieval fantasy worlds and that he’d be wearing a cape, so I thought maybe it was more in the Delightful Sausage style of fictional stuff. Maybe some weird combination. Who knows?

It was straight stand-up, stories about his life told as himself, but he did wear a cape for much of the show, which made sense in context. It hit some themes that chimed quite well with me at the moment – depression and the loneliness of old friendships deteriorating as you get older. So it got a little dark at times, but it never felt very dark, and it ended on a note so hopeful that I may have been briefly, genuinely moved.

This was one of those stand-up hours where you can feel how competent and experienced the person who put it together is. It was paced really well, everything felt like it was in the right order and it really built up and came together nicely. I love how easily he could move between whimsey (there was some stuff about Medieval fantasy lands in there), straightforward storytelling, and occasional breaks to add something like a political opinion or a fact about history. All the different types of material flowed so well that none of the seams felt jarring. It felt honest about depression without seeming overwrought or overly emotional, which is pretty impressive.

He dropped little threads early on that I’d assumed were nothing but came back unexpectedly. He had so many little ways of describing things that I’ve found myself going back to in my mind, I feel like this is going to be one of those things where a year from now I wonder why I use a certain turn of phrase when I talk about certain things, and then remember I heard it in a Chris Cantrill show.

And I love how much care he took over all the characters in his story, who were mainly his friends from university. That seems like his skills as a sketch comedian coming out, he could make all these people come to life in the stories, I ended up sympathizing with everyone and getting really invested in all the different things that were going on. This show had, you know – heart, or whatever would be a less cheesy word to describe the same thing.

Then I put on Amy Gledhill’s show, and Jesus, was that ever great. It was also straight stand-up, maybe with slightly more theatrics than Chris, as she came in wearing an ostentatious costume and had people throw underwear at her. But then she started talking and she didn’t need any gimmicks, or anything – it is amazing how compelling she can be even when it’s just her telling stories. It’s the same as the presence she has in The Delightful Sausage shows – just a way of speaking and moving and looking at the crowd that makes me want to listen to her. She’s so naturally good at this.

This show hit a number of common topics among “serious” comedy shows – body image, sexual assault, breakups, how all those things affect mental health issues. And it didn’t feel like a serious comedy show. Watching it didn’t feel tense, except for a little bit at the end when she very intentionally brought in some tension. She looked like she was having fun the whole time, so watching and listening to her was always fun, no matter what she was discussing.

But this show had more of an edge to it than the Chris Cantrill one, it felt bigger and faster-paced, and Chris Cantrill didn’t spend nearly as much time acting out the lead-up to oral sex. She threw herself entirely into every story, expressed so much with a look or a gesture, could make us laugh and sharply feel everything she described at the same time, which is tricky. Most comedians switch between the laughing and the making us feeling things, it’s hard to get both at once.

And this show came together nicely too, picked up threads that I’d not expected to come back, brought everything around to the central themes, it was all there for a reason. And finished strong on a note of complex hope and anger and all these other things. And it was funny. It made me laugh out loud repeatedly even though I was alone in my room, that’s probably enough to give it the edge over other options for winning that award.

I think her experience as a sketch comedian made a big difference here too (I’m not sure if “sketch” is the right word for those Delightful Sausage shows as they’re all in one narrative, but whatever that type of comedy show is called, that’s what I mean), as it’s how she drew us into all her stories. She’s so used to getting in character and making us believe that she’s stranded on an island or running a terrible resort or whatever – so in her regular stand-up she can easily get us on board with believing that she’s really arguing with her ex over a TV show, or whatever real-life story she’s telling. She makes it so easy to enjoy listening to her.

Both shows were strong on structure and on making me feel some emotions and making me laugh, what a wonderful way to spend a day. And I'm happy with Amy Gledhill winning Champion of Edinburgh. She had a couple of sweet stories about Chris Cantrill in her show too, they seem like lovely people. Out there being happy for each other, and once again, melting my cynical heart.

Also, I've gone and downloaded Icklewick FM, the radio thing they made together this year instead of doing a Delightful Sausage show. I meant to listen to that when it came out a few months ago, and then I forgot about it, but I've now been reminded. That's going with me on my commutes to work next week.