#literally the worst piece of garbage

[poisonousquinzel]

if you've ever felt embarrassed about getting characterization wrong in fan content in the past just know that the man who co wrote this ridiculously dumbass bit from an offensive revolting series went on to be allowed to co-write two of the four Harley Quinn ongoings (2014 / 2016)

Ivy, in reference to Wonder Woman: Poor thing comes from an island of all women. That's worse than Catholic school.

Selina: Depends on your preferences.

Harley: Eww!

Selina: So we can add homophobe to your incredibly dimwitted character traits.

Harley: You know if we didn't have to work together I'd let my snookums poison your milk bowl.

Selina: Great, the talking hat thing again.

Ame-Comi was released in like 2013 and Harley's second ongoing was in 2014 ... who let him touch her character again i just wanna talk i swear

[relto]

im currently working with an intern who does EVERYTHING by asking chatgpt. he knows its not perfect and will tell you random bullshit sometimes. but hes allergic to looking up freely available documentation i guess.

[dexaroth]

nearing completion on archiving 99% of my drawings 😁unfortunately im pretty sure i wont get to 1000 (without the thumbnails that is) but i kind of expected it to be a lot more than 3gb. was worried the 50gb on neo would be too little but it seems to be plenty. yay

[xwhitenoise]

the way a romanced astarion unpacks everything when you get the good ending for his personal quest is lowkey funny tho

like. he basically sums up the entire point of his journey and confirms explicitly that you did, in fact, make the exact right choices to help him grow????

the writers really drive home this idea of just "that's it! you did it! you uncovered the secret to making him a good person, and it turns out the only requirements were to give a shit about him and believe he's capable of doing the right thing!! literally just those two things and nothing else!!"

first in the graveyard

side note, "you trusted me when that was an objectively stupid thing to do" is one of my favorite lines because it just sums up really the whole experience of his romance gfjdklgjdf

then later in casual conversation

[tav: you saved yourself, i just gave you a push]

it's all really sweet and lovely and emotional but also. REALLY funny to me. because there are all those people who go "astarion is an irredeemable piece of shit with no soul and everyone who likes him is in denial of how much he sucks"

meanwhile astarion's just out there like "thanks for keeping me from becoming the worst possible version of myself by exercising empathy instead of just writing me off as a hateful pile of garbage ❤ love u"

really incredible. absolute masterpiece

[beatrixstonehill2]

"I've officially been a Hooters girl for one year! Just look at how fucking big my boss has made my tits. I was a C-Cup when I got hired. Before I even got my uniform they were shoving these supplements in my face. I kind of love it but I know if I ever want a real job someday I'll have to chop these embarrassing things off. It's all my coworkers and I talk about, finally getting out of the job and getting a reduction or having these monster tits we were forced to grow chopped off completely. It sucks, cuz I liked my boobs and thought they were so pretty. But now look at these grotesque melons I'm forced to walk around with all day. Every guy assumes I'm some free-use breeding cow. I've given up trying to fight them off. My commutes are now just one giant hardcore porno shoot. Which is to say nothing about how many customers I have to tit fuck and suck off every shift. Men are so greedy.....

The second guys see these huge lactating tits of mine they go nuts. They could be walking arm-in-arm with their pregnant girlfriend and still run over grope my tits and fuck me. The girlfriends just watch and film it anyway, sometimes they even masturbate, watching their bfs fuck me and smack me around. It's pathetic how used to being a cum dumpster I've become. I don't even care or notice when cum is pouring down my legs anymore. I actually leave a pool of cum wherever I sit. I can't believe what this job has turned me into, all because my dad talked me into working here, calling it a great opportunity.

Well, I hope they like taking care of all the grandkids I'll be forced to push out now. Since we're all in various stages of pregnancy, as well (Two months along with batch two!). I always dreamt of my first pregnancy being with my husband, us cherishing our kids. Not me getting fucked against the door of a subway car as a literal crowd of men surround me, all taking turns fucking me. Giving birth not in a nice hospital with my husband at my side, but instead at work as my boss gives me tequila shots for the pain, as customers face fuck me while I'm pushing out triplets. I thought men were supposed to be more gentle with pregnant girls? I swear once my belly gets really big and round they go ballistic. Way more guys start hitting me, roughing me up just for fun as they fuck me in bigger groups. My boss actually likes it when I come into work with bruises on my boobs and belly or a black eye, says it gets the customers more aroused.

Now after all this sex and breeding and my breasts getting so big I feel like my spine is gonna snap any day, I can't focus on school at all. My one way out of this job and it's like if I go ten minutes without getting fucked or playing with my tits and pussy I get agitated and restless. Like I'm addicted to getting fucked, even if 90% of it is not consensual. I'm literally fantasizing about getting my clothes ripped off and fucked in public, humiliated and treated like garbage as I write this. What the hell am I becoming? I'm doomed to drop out and keep working here. How big are my tits gonna be in a year? My brain can't take this, it's like my mind is breaking and soon I'll be nothing but a cock-addicted pregnant bimbo with a 40 IQ and breasts that weight over 100lbs a piece. The worst part is, I keep thinking to myself..... is that such a bad thing?"

[ashdreams2023]

Loki things part idk:

He thinks smoking is absolutely disgusting, like he treats his body like a temple so never to something so disgusting and tasteless

He likes sweeter drinks, asgard didn’t serve them much and he relish in them when he’s on earth

He studies religions, all types, finds it fascinating what mere humans put their faith and hopes for, something to believe in

Can’t sleep in complete darkness, as silly as it may sound he actually needs some sort of light in the place he’s sleeping in (gets a mini night lamp later)

Goes to thrift stores, doesn’t buy anything because he thinks he’s better than wearing used stuff but likes to browse through the different pieces and maybe try to recreate them with his magic

Cuts his hair himself, no one is allowed to touch it unless it’s someone very close to

His eyelashes are naturally long and they get in his eye sometimes so he gets them trimmed every few weeks

Makes his own perfume, as in he makes his own scent, it’s like a hobby of his to go into the frosts and gather ingredients and turn them into something inching

His favorite vegetable is pumpkin and you can imagine his surprise when he discovered pumpkin flavored things exist other then pie

He gets the worst sunburns if he’s not careful, literally fries up like a dead fish

Speaking of fish he actually doesn’t like fish, never found it appealing, the only sea food he would eat though is shrimp

He doesn’t have bad body odor, so when he sweats it’s not that strong disgusting smell but something faint and manageable

His favorite animals are {cats- sheep- goats}

He got so excited when he found out bucky raised goats back in wakanda

Likes to go to different candy stores and tries everything covered in sugar (his favorites are those strawberry gummies covered in sugar)

Loki naturally is a brilliant dancer and offer out of pity to teach anyone how to ballroom dance in exchange for some favors

Dense bones, he’s very VERY heavy, to a normal human being obviously and if he lets say falls of top of you full force you might lose breath and pass out immediately

Finds graveyards oddly sentimental since back in asgard they don’t berry the bodies, he sometimes finds himself going and watching people visit their loved ones

Keeps all his gifts, it doesn’t matter if they are garbage he still keeps it because it still means a big deal to him

Hates crocks so much, would rather flip flops and his toes out in the open than wear those hideous things

[cc1010fox]

Rex: That number is your kill count? Fox: Roughly. Cody: I wasn't...expecting that to be honest... Wolffe: He's lying. Look, he wrote a number above it first, then crossed it out. That's the truth. Fox: No, that's the literal kill count. Cody: ... Rex: ... Wolffe: ... Fox: They were alive before we crossed paths. Rex: Oh...Most of our kills are-- Cody: Droids... Wolffe: I don't--How!? Fox: ...Why do you think I have so many awards? Wolffe: You...work hard? Fox: Doing what? Wolffe: Whatever the chancellor tells you to do. Fox: ... Cody: You protect the Senate. Fox: Coruscant. Rex: What? Fox: My duties extend beyond the Senate. I protect Coruscant. Wolffe: Ok, you protect Coruscant. Fox: ...From? Wolffe: Seppies? Fox: That's...part of it. Rex: ... Cody: ... Fox, popping his tongue against the roof of his mouth: Let me lay it out for you three. Fox: While you're out there sniping heads off of comedic relief training dummies, I have to deal with living, breathing, thinking beings. The living and breathing should make them easier to take down, but the thinking makes them unpredictable. I have to account for their individual beliefs, their morals...their sense of honor...all of which throw logic out of the window. It's not easy to land a droid army on Coruscant, so I don't get the pleasure of predictability too often. Rex: ... Fox: Instead, I have to deal with the citizens of this planet, too many of which don't want us here. They shout at us, abuse us, and have even started a market for us. You know...the skin and organ market. Yes and no. Yes, they have actually harvested our skin. No, I don't mean literal skin when I say skin market. Think collars and chains. How many times have you stood between a threat and the people you're duty bound to protect knowing at least one of those people have spat on your men, attacked them, used them like toys, or captured and sold them? My only comfort is knowing I can turn on them the second they're labeled a traitor to the Republic. And I can pick the worst of them off when there are no witnesses. Cody: ...That's-- Fox: On top of that, I have encountered creatures of nightmares because they just dwell in the bowels of this rotting planet or some pieces of garbage brought them here to sell. If you thought I was protected against watching my men get eaten by a wampa, you are sorely mistaken. Although it was the nexu that kept me up at night. For weeks. Who buys those things? Seriously...At least I put some of them down, but who knows how many they sold? Wolffe: ... Fox: The worst creatures are the ones I can't add to my kill count, though. The absolute worst is Chancellor Palpatine. He doesn't know what my job is and assigns me to literally every job in the Coruscant Guard. I have to do it personally. I'm the boss of the people who are supposed to do those jobs. He is the sole reason I will only sleep when I am dead. Fox: The second worst is 99% of the senators. Entitled, egotistical pricks. I would rather be distributed to desperate families looking for organs than catch the eye of any senator. Thire has to remember which ones show a little too much interest in the clones because we are at their mercy. He can't allow a shiny anywhere near them. If a Coruscanti attacks a clone, it's considered damaging government property, making them a criminal. If a senator attacks a clone, it's considered You better do what is best for the Republic and shut your kriffing mouth. Because treating a clone like a complimentary gift isn't betraying the Republic. Risking one of the Republic's delicate alliances is. Cody: Force, Fox... Fox: I deal with all of that while maintaining an impressive record of mission successes. That is why I have so many awards. Wolffe: ...You have awards, but do you want a hug? Fox: Desperately. All day. Every day.

[secretmellowblog]

> I get recommended a video essay. I ask the recommender if the video essay is an actual analysis, or if it’s just a plot summary

> the recommender doesn’t understand

> I pull out a diagram explaining the difference between video essays that actually analyze a piece of media and explore its construction or themes, the way you would in an essay—- vs “video essays” that just read you the Wikipedia plot summary of that media for three hours. I explain that analysis videos have thoughtful insights on the source material but plot summaries offer nothing of value if you’re already familiar with the source material or have skimmed its wikipedia plot summary page. I explain how analysis videos are insightful while plot summary videos are at best lazy glorified reaction videos churned out by people trying to meet an algorithm quota by leeching off whatever media is popular at the time, and at worst are outright plagiarism or literal ai generated content mill garbage.

> the recommender laughs and says “it’s a good video essay”

> I click on the video essay

> it’s a plot summary

[quite-right-too]

Piece of Art

Tenth Doctor x GN!Reader / requests are open

Summary: The Doctor sees your newest tattoo.

One year.

You had been travelling for an entire year.

Granted, time was subjective when you are in a literal time machine, but the point still stood. For your timeline, it had been three hundred and sixty-five days of adventures.

It seemed like the Doctor also knew. He was up before you — which was normal considering his “superior Time Lord biology” allowed him to have “a considerably altered circadian rhythm” and he didn’t need much sleep.

He was already up and running around the console by the time you were up, hair tousled like he had been running his hands through it. You admired him from the doorway as he checked the screens, putting on his glasses and analysing the data that was written in that beautiful circular language.

“So, what’s the plan today?” you asked with a smirk, arms crossed and leaning against the coral entrance to the console room. The Doctor jumped for a second as he was brought out of his focused state.

He gave you his signature Doctor grin and began to flip various switches. “Well,” he drawled, “I was thinking we could go to Dracea VII. They have a wonderful festival that comes around every ten years. The food is amazing.” Nimble fingers typed into his keyboard as he watched the Gallifreyan symbols change. “Just imagine it. The sky's the perfect shade of lavender while the various rivers that flow through the city are a shimmering gold. The grass is soft, almost like silk, and is a deep blue. The entire planet is gorgeous.”

You couldn’t help the matching smile that spread across your face. “Sounds wonderful.”

“Alright!” he exclaimed, pulling a lever down hard as the TARDIS began to groan and lurch through the vortex. “Allons-y!”

A final thud upon landing threw your balance off. As you were sent stumbling, the Doctor reached out and grabbed your arm, pulling him into you as you both fell to the floor. He caught you, just as he always did. Your shared laughs filled the console room as you savoured the moment.

“Come on, up you go,” he grunted as he helped you to your feet. “Off on another adventure, us!” He grinned as he grabbed his overcoat and pulled it over his shoulders, adjusting the collar as he put it on. Once satisfied with how the garment sat, the Doctor held out his hand. His fingers wiggled in invitation. Chestnut eyes sparkled with the excitement of being able to spend time with you.

You loved it.

Fingers now laced, the door to the TARDIS was thrown open. Instead of the beautiful grass and rivers the Doctor had described, you were greeted with what appeared to be a sewer system. A very dirty sewer system.

As the two of you stepped out of the doors, the Doctor looked around with a grimace on his face. “What the-” He was quickly cut off with a low rumble.

A rumble that came from directly above you.

Although you both moved away from the now-noticed pipe above your heads, it was too late. The putrid smell of hot garbage assaulted you as you felt yourself get splashed with the brown mysterious liquid.

“Fucking dammit!” you yelled, lurching away.

The Doctor grabbed your hand, pulling you back into the TARDIS. Your shirt seemed to have gotten the worst of it. Not wanting to continue the contact of the sewage against your skin, you pulled your shirt off and discarded it on the floor of the console room.

“Alright, that was not where I intended to land. Sorry about that.” As the Doctor looked up at you, he froze. Standing before him was your shirtless form, bearing a semi-new tattoo.

The vibrant blue phone box that took up the space on the right side of your torso was beautifully surrounded with a galaxy. In the background, the Earth was able to be made out. 

His feet moved of their own accord. Before either of you knew it, he was standing directly in front of you, staring down at your ribs. “When did you get this done?” the Doctor murmured quietly, his hand coming up to hover above the piece.

You moved your hand up to his, pressing his fingers against your skin. “You can touch, Doctor.” You smiled at how enraptured he was. “I got it the last time we were in America. Probably around three months ago? Did you know that Los Angeles has some pretty amazing tattoo artists?”

“This is brilliant.” The Doctor was in complete and utter awe. “Why haven’t you shown me this before?” He traced circular patterns over the tattoo with the pads of his fingers.

“I don’t know, just…” You trailed off, mind melting at the feel of the skin-to-skin contact. “Wanted to wait for the right time.”

“Well, I love it.” The Doctor wasn’t lying. His eyes were staring into your soul. He loved it.

“Good,” you breathed. He was so close to you — it made it so hard to think.

I love you.

The words caught in your throat.

[loveyjeongie]

Momo Unnie!

word count: 1,972

who: nd!little!momo, cg!nayeon (+middle!dahyun for a sec if u squint very hard, jihyo who is also having a bad day, sana)

“Momo unnie can you help me take out the trash?” “Unnie could you help me with this assignment?” “Momo-ya can you go to the store and grab some milk? We’re all out” “Momo unnie!! can you come here?” “Momo!” “Unnie-“

All day long Momo has been tugged around, back and forth while listening to her name being called from all angles of her apartment. At this point her head was beginning to throb with the worst headache she’s had in months. She wondered how many more times she could hear anything at all before her body exploded.

It bothered her specifically because when she woke up this morning, she was in a good mood. Made her bed, showered, ate some frozen waffles that weren’t for her but she couldn’t resist anyways, and despite her jumping a little more than usual at things, she felt okay. Then her presence started to become a popular request.

“Momo unnie, can you take out the trash for me? I’m running late to drop off Chaeyoung and Tzuyu at their workshop.”

“Sure Ji, leave it to me.” She smiled and thought that it was a simple enough favor she wouldn’t actually mind much, and the garbage was stinky anyways.

Momo took the bag out and tied it into a knot, throwing it over her shoulder. As soon as she reaches the front door, she hears her name again.

“Momo unnie! are you gonna be out long?”

“Nah, i’m just taking the trash out for Jihyo. What do you need, hyun?”

“Oh thank god— I was worried you were going to be gone forever, can you help me with this assignment for my music class?”

Momo hesitated a bit. That would definitely take longer than the trash favor.

“Uh, yeah I guess I can. Let me take this out and i’ll come by your room, okay?”

Dahyun yelled back a “thanks”, already back up the stairs and halfway through her own doorway.

————————————

“Okay, I think you’re doing really well with this part. If you practice it a little more i’ll help you record it so you can send it to your teacher, if you want?”

“Really?! that would help so much unnie, thank you.”

“Of course, if you need any more help just let—“

“MOMO-YA!!” Momo covered her ears as both girls turned around to see Nayeon standing in the doorway.

“Why are you yelling?!” even though Nayeon was normally a loud person, her brain felt like it just rattled inside of her skull.

“Sorry! Can you go to the store please, we’re out of milk.”

Momo sighed. Yet 20 minutes later she appeared back in the kitchen with a gallon of milk and a chocolate bar in her hand.

She moved to the living room, where she sat down on the couch and began to munch on her candy and the cup of milk she poured herself to go with it. She didn’t really feel like she was there. The tv was off, because she was already starting to feel like things were getting too loud, and she just wanted silence. Her brain was beginning to feel incredibly off. Each time she chewed, it made her feel better.

“Is that candy?” Momo jumped and covered her ears again as Sana suddenly popped up behind her on the couch.

“It’s… a chocolate bar. Just got it from the store.”

“Oh!! Can I have a piece? Please please please please unnie~”

She felt her eyes watering, and yet she couldn’t say no. Not when Sana was looking at her with her signature pouty face that always got her everything she wanted. Even tho it was all that was grounding her at the moment.

“Uhm I guess you can…” She looked down at the wrapper and took the chocolate out. “Here, have the rest”

“Thank you unnie!!!” Momo felt herself flinch for the third time that morning.

————————————

Finally, Momo had gone back to her room. Lying in her bed had quite literally never felt better. She contemplated putting her headphones on, but it seemed quiet enough as everyone had gone back to their rooms and were keeping themselves busy so she trusted it to stay that way for a while. Her mind started to wonder, until she was just beginning to doze off and could faintly hear the front door open and close along with someones muffled speaking. There was some more banging around downstairs until it relented and Momo began to fall back into her slumber. That is, until…

The door to her bedroom flung open.

“Unnie.” She didn’t want to move at all, so she pretended she didn’t hear Jihyo from the doorway.

“Momo unnie. Get up.” Her brain started to panic a little bit due to her acting proving to be unsuccessful. But she knew something was up because Jihyo sounded aggravated. Why was she mad?

“UNNIE! GET UP!” her voice was loud, and Momo’s body was shaking— both from her own anxiety and from the sudden closeness of Jihyo who had moved the blanket and was poking her shoulder hard enough to get her to move.

“W-what is it, Ji?” she smacked her hand away and sat up on the side of the bed to face her.

“Are you the one who got milk?”

She blinked. “Yeah?”

“Well, you left it out on the counter. You also left your dirty cup on the couch. Don’t you know how to clean up after yourself?! Please go put them away, I have to cook Dahyun dinner.” With that, Jihyo turned on her heel and went downstairs.

Her head felt bad. Momos head felt really bad. She didn’t understand why the milk was on the counter or remember how the cup got on the couch. Was she processing things right? She could almost hear the blood rushing to her head, and the tears flooding her eyes begging to overflow. Momo was incredibly overwhelmed but she shouldn’t cry— it’s simple. Jihyo just wants her to clean something, thats all.

Momo stood up and left for the kitchen. Her steps were a little bit wobbly and she really did feel very bad. She almost couldn’t tell where she was.

Reaching where Jihyo had gone, she walked to the counter and put the milk that was there in the fridge. It felt heavier in her hand than normal. She also got the cup from the couch and brought it to the sink.

While the water from the faucet filled the cup, she watched until it spilled over and began running over her hand. She felt really weird, she could see the water but for some reason didn’t really register feeling it. It felt like she had stood there forever, until a hand reached over and turned the faucet off.

“Unnie! You can’t let the water run like that! God, that reminds me that the water bill is due today, did you pay it? that’s one of your bills you know.”

Momo just continued to stare at her hand holding the cup in the sink. It was cold, and she didn’t really understand what Jihyo was saying to her. She couldn’t process anything at all. All she could think about was how badly she wished it was quiet, how tired she was of hearing her name, and how small she felt.

It happened so fast she didn’t even know what was happening. A cabinet door closed a little too harshly and she dropped to her knees on the floor sobbing, shoving her fingers as far into her ears as she could— even tho it hurt.

“Unnie? Unnie— what happened?!” Jihyo mirrored her on the floor in front of Momo trying to figure out why she was crying. Momo couldn’t say a word but the closer Jihyo got to her the more she thrashed around trying to get away.

Hearing the commotion, Nayeon had left her room. “Hey guys why are you making so much noi—“ She paused as she observed the scene in the kitchen.

Jihyo turned to her, asking for help.

“Oh, unnie— I don’t know what happened! I was talking to her and trying to get stuff out of the cabinet for dinner and then all of a sudden she started freaking out! I didn’t mean to but she won’t even let me touch her.”

Looking back over at Momo, Nayeon knew immediately what was wrong, and told Jihyo that they’ll order food later and to go to her room for a little while. Carefully, she sat down next to Momo on the floor.

“Hi my sweet girl,” Nayeon tried really hard to leave her voice barely above a whisper so that she didn’t startle her. “You don’t look like you’re feeling too good right now.” Momo shook her head side to side frantically.

“That’s okay, can you tell unnie how old you are? it’s okay if you’re not sure.” Again, Momo shook her head.

“Alright darling, is it okay if i touch you?” At that, the younger girl threw herself into Nayeons arms still sobbing. She held onto her and rubbed her hand in circles gently around her back, putting a little bit of pressure to help her feel better. Nayeon looked down and saw that Momo still had her fingers in her ears, and that they were beginning to turn pretty red.

Leaning down and kissing the top of her head, she took it as a hint to what was actually wrong.

“Is it too loud baby?” This time Momo nodded her head the other direction. Nayeon picked her up and decided to bring her back to her room to avoid anyone coming out and making even more noise.

Sitting Momo on her bed, she crouched down in front of her and gently gripped her elbows. “Can you take your fingers out of your ears for me darling? I don’t want you to hurt yourself.” Momo whined and seemed to push them in even further. Nayeon panicked a little until she remembered about the headphones Momo left in her room for times like this. She didn’t know where she had left them so she began searching through the drawers in her desk and closet until she found them inside the backpack hanging off the back of her chair. Relieved, she brought them back over to Momo and tapped her just enough to get her to open her eyes.

“If you take your fingers out, we can put these on and you can feel a lot better my love.” Momo looked down and hesitated. It was her favorite pair of headphones that she had decorated with Nayeon a few months ago, and they had made sure they got the quietest ones possible. Which is exactly what she wanted right now.

Momo slowly removed her fingers from her ears, grimacing at the soreness and how loud it was again until Nayeon placed the headphones over her ears as soon as she could. Both girls sighed with relief as Momo felt better and Nayeon was glad that Momo felt better.

“Now, do you want to take a nap with me my sweet girl? I’ll even let you hold my bunny” She pulled her sleeves over her hands and wiped the tears that were still stuck on Momo’s cheeks and smiled at the nod she gave.

She tucked Momo into her bed— with her bunny— and quickly sent a text out to their group chat not to knock on any doors or come into their room until later.

Getting under the covers next to her, Momo slid over with the stuffed bunny in her arms and rested her head against Nayeons chest. “If you wake up and need anything just let me know, okay? i’ll be right here.”

Momo definitely still did not feel very good, but at least it finally felt quiet.

[hainethehero]

A JOSS WHEDON HATER FOREVER- a think piece on how Avengers 1 set up Steve Rogers to be the MCU's punching bag for the rest of the franchise

(We all know Joss Whedon is an absolute garbage person. He's done many horrible things including being a racist, sexist moron who should be behind literal bars.) This is a commentary on his absolute shit writing for Avengers 1.

This one particular scene and the one following it is purely poor writing & direction for the character of Steve Rogers.👇

After Coulson dies, Fury addresses Steve and Tony and tosses Coulson's bloodied Captain America cards at Steve. He says something like "guess you never found the time to sign them" which is just horribly cruel and though not OOC for Fury, is not something he'd say lightly. We later realize here👇

...that he's secretly trying to put together the team. This is where he makes his big "there was an idea" speech and mentions that "Stark knows this." Because yeah, Tony was made aware of this in Iron Man 1 when Coulson visited and told Pepper. In contrast, Steve had no idea about the Avengers Initiative.

In fact, the dude was just pulled from the Valkyrie in the ice!! In the beginning scene of Avengers 1, we see him at the gym with the punching bag having LITERAL WAR FLASHBACKS about Bucky and Peggy and the Howlies! He's not stable and yet Fury confronts him and ropes him into the mission to get the Tesseract. Steve says, "you should've left it where you found it." And I can't help but think that maybe Steve means himself as well because dude just lost EVERYONE & EVERYTHING he literally knew and cared about.

Anyway, back to the point, Steve knows nothing about the Initiative but is suddenly made to feel guilty about Coulson's death in some kind of roundabout way of "convincing him to join the team" in honor of Coulson.

And then, to make matters WORSE, in the next scene they make HIM comfort Tony 👇

They make him say, "im sorry" (like it was his fault???!) and "he was just doing his job" and "is this the first time you've lost a soldier?" LIKE WTAF???

*INSERTS JACOB ELORDI MEME FROM EUPHORIA SAYING WHAT THE FUCKKKKK?!*

First of all, Steve barely knows these people! Second, he was fond of Coulson and I'm sure they would've been close friends. But did they have to GUILT-TRIP Steve into joining the team? Like, that's just dumb and proves that they don't actually give a fuck about his character!

AND TALK ABOUT MEAN! Fury at least knew about Steve losing Bucky on that train. He KNOWS Steve's first words when he woke up from sleep was "I had a date" reflecting the tragedy of the man out of time. To just rip him out of sleep and thrust him into a mission and later making him feel guilty about Coulson was just pure cruelty, making SHIELD no better than HYDRA. They all saw Steve as a pawn, another mindless soldier to carry out their missions and I hate JW for that.

Steve's character was not accurately portrayed nor was his trauma properly dealt with and so this is why today, we see alot of MCU "fans" calling Steve the worst avenger, lame, boring and basically a crutch to Tony's genius. (I'm a huge Tony Stark fan, don't @ me). It just felt that the mcu wanted to make Tony the ultimate hero- which is fine, Nothing's wrong with that- but they did it at the expense of Steve's character and trauma.

Sadly, this narrative continues all the way down to Endgame and for that I will always hate JW & the mcu's portrayal of Steve Rogers.

[sweetnsour-stuff]

"The Mimic dropped the elevator and tricked Cassie!" "Gregory dropped the elevator and betrayed Cassie!" Yeah sure ok and what if it was neither? The elevator just dropped on its own.

Maybe it was Gregory in the elevator but he wasn't done talking- "But we can't risk being followed. I'm sorry. You're just going to have to stay there until we can get down and deal with this. I'll make it as quick as possible, promise" Planning to leave her stuck in the elevator or whatever but the elevator just chose the literal worst possible timing to give up and collapse because it's a piece of garbage that hasn't moved in a decade. The real antagonist of this game: The Elevator

This is mostly a joke btw but dumber shit has happened in this franchise lmao

[imightgetbetter]

back in time

i don't even know what came over me, but i basically meshed all these ideas into one and here we are, five thousand words later. i typically love writing long pieces, so we'll see if this becomes the new trend for my writing. as always, be nice and give feedback (reblog and messages and all that). thank you for all the support you've been showing me. it literally makes me so happy. okay bye. have fun reading! content warning: MATURE (if you're a minor, get out of here)

Nearly everything in your quaint apartment is moved out, deconstructed, and sold. Outside, New York City is bustling with movement. Holiday season always is. Mothers dragging their families to the Rockefeller Center Tree and Times Square and the notably known apartment buildings in SoHo. Inside, you are waiting anxiously for the buzzer to sound near your front door, where there is someone on their way to help you gather the rest of your things and move back home. Originally, your mother was meant to fly out and help you, but his willingness and insistence that it would be easier for him to come and help because he knows the area quite well from visiting and you’d already asked him (you didn’t), so he had absolutely no issue flying out for only a day or two to get things moved back home, made it so that she simply couldn’t refuse.

Holidays and special occasions always went like this from as early as you can remember. The Healy’s, The Daniel’s, The MacDonald’s, The Hann’s, and your family, all gathered in someone’s house, sharing stories and alcoholic beverages as the boys wacked and played their instruments and you would sit idly by trying to make yourself seem busy and uninterested. And that worked quite well, you thought, for years. Until one holiday, you found yourself drunkenly kissing Matty Healy on the side of your house, his hands brushing electrically against the skin hidden by a thick sweater. His skin was so warm compared to the harsh winter air around you, and kissing him, albeit drunkenly, made your entire body feel warm.

You and Matty never spoke of it, once you two walked back inside, making up some lie that you needed help throwing out the garbage. No one believed you, but you couldn’t speak of it, ever again. Not once. Mistakes are made when you’re drunk and you were friends and you were friends with his friends and you all grew up together, and it felt like the absolute worst thing you could possibly do. You ignored it, and Matty seemed to not have any cares for the fact that this had happen, continuing to act as he always had towards you. You thought it was a one-off thing, a one-time mistake. Until the next party. Until, when everyone was distracted, Matty was taking your hand and pulling you towards the entry way closet and grabbing your face and kissing you.

And this happened, a lot.

Matty never kissed you sober, which, was somehow insulting and intriguing simultaneously. Could you really be everything Matty wanted when he was drunk, but absolutely nothing more than a friend when sober? Questions like this swirled around your brain every time a gathering happened – which was quite often for you all – and every time, you found yourself drunkenly misplaced in his arms, his lips on yours. Matty never took it farther, never pushed it, as though that was enough for now.

All the one-off kissing was enough, until the day came when you were officially leaving. Your acceptance to New York University did not come as a shock to anyone, especially not your friends. You had always been a writer, from the minute you knew words, you were making up stories. You sat with Matty as he wrote songs, giving him synonyms and telling him if his rhyming scheme was off. You were made for this, and it was your dream coming true.

One last party was necessary, all the friends and family gathered together for one last real party, one where it wouldn’t only be because you were visiting in town for the holidays or the summer. All your friends were gathered on the floor of your bedroom, sitting knee to knee as you all share a joint around the circle and talk about what’s going to happen when you leave.

‘You’ve got to come back for holidays,’ George said, tilting his head back and letting the smoke puff out between his lips. ‘Have to check in and listen to what we’re working on, too.’

‘I’m not dropping off the face of the earth,’ you argue, stealing the joint and pulling it between your lips. ‘I’ll still be around. There’s the internet and stuff in America. I’m not going to the Arctic. You act like I’m never coming home.’

‘Might as well be,’ Matty huffs, the cigarette smoke pooling around his head like a cloud. He’s been the one having the hardest time with you leaving, and everyone could see it. He relayed his happiness for your acceptance, as everyone did, but there was something different attached to it, a different feeling. Matty stood up suddenly, lending out his hand for you, ‘I’m going to go outside for some air. Want to come?’

‘Uh, sure.’ His hand felt warm against yours, and you two slipped out the front door without anyone in the garden noticing. Matty walked you to the side of your house, a spot you remember vividly, and the tension feels weird, the energy is different, like there is so much to say but you want to say nothing at all. ‘You’re acting strange.’

‘I’m sorry,’ Matty says quietly, stubbing out the cigarette on the ground and leaning his hand on the side of the house. Adjusting yourself slightly, you twisted yourself to be facing him. ‘I can’t handle you leaving. It’s making me lose my bloody mind.’

“Matty, I’m going to school,’ you say, trying to brush away the feelings welling inside you. Objectively, to anyone else watching, this would be the perfect moment to profess your feelings for him, for him to share his feelings with you and tell you that you’re all he wants, and he’ll do the distance and all the things you watch in shitty romantic movies growing up. ‘I’m going to still talk to you and the guys. I’ll be back for holidays and summers. I’m not disappearing.’

‘I don’t want you to go.’

‘That’s not really an option, Matty. My career isn’t here. Nothing ties me to Manchester, besides my parents, growing up here. I want to go to New York. I want to go and experience it and then I want to come back and move to London and be an author and do all the things. Just like you want to be a musician. I wouldn’t be showing up at your house hours before you leave for a tour telling you not to go.’

‘I wouldn’t go,’ Matty says, turning his head away from the wall of the house and towards you. ‘I wouldn’t go if you didn’t want me to.’

‘That’s ridiculous,’ you say, leaning against the siding of the house and tilting your head up towards the sky, staring at the stars. ‘You shouldn’t ever give up your dreams for your friends. That’s absurd and you know it.’

‘Jesus Christ, YN,’ Matty says roughly, the scratch in his throat accentuated by a wet rasp, and when you look at him, you can see the tears welling in his eyes, ‘you are not just my friend, you never have been. It’s always been more than that, and you know it.’

‘Know what, Matty? Me and you are only a thing when we’re high or we’re drunk. It’s not like you’re in love with me or something!’

‘And what if I was?’

‘Don’t say that to me. You can’t say that to me,’ you say, pushing off the wall and hurriedly walking towards the front door. Matty grabs your wrist and twists you around, grabbing your face in his hands and kissing you deeply. It’s the type of kiss you read about, the one you watch in movies. It’s the type of kiss that leaves you breathless and confused and unsure where to go, only that you need to keep kissing him. Matty pulls away only for a second, giving you a moment to say, ‘You can’t do this when I’m about to leave. It’s not fair, Matty.’

‘I know, I’m sorry.’ Matty rubs your cheeks softly, his eyes tracing over your features, trying to memorize everything about you. ‘I just, I can’t let you leave without knowing how I feel about you. You’ve always been more than just a drunken kiss.’ You don’t know what to say, how to feel. ‘I want you. I want to be with you. I love you.’

‘I’m going to be on another continent, Matty,’ you sigh, tears welling in your eyes as you lean your face into his hands. ‘I can’t do long distance. I don’t want to. I want to write and fall in love and fall out of love and have experiences, and I want you to have those, too. I can’t do this, no matter how I feel about you. Matty, we can’t do this.’

Matty knows you better than to ask what he wants to really ask you. ‘Can I come and visit you? Can you come home and listen to the band and write songs with me? Can we get high and talk about existential crises and politics?’ His eyes squeeze shut as you wipe a tear from his cheek. ‘Can I still kiss you?’

‘Yes,’ you say, not specifying which question you’re answering. Matty can decide what the ‘yes’ is to and for. ‘And when I’m done with school,’ you say hesitantly, nervous about the implications of what this might mean, ‘when I’m coming home, if you still feel the same way, we can talk about it. I don’t want you to ignore every opportunity just because something might happen in four years. Live your life, Matty. And if something happens when I come back, then–’

‘Yeah,’ Matty says quietly, kissing your forehead and pulling his hands away, reaching into his pocket and grabbing another cigarette. ‘I’m going to stay out here; you can go in.’

‘Okay,’ you say, drawing back from him and walking towards the front door, and the further you walk away, the more it feels like you’re walking away from what should’ve been so good.

And this is where you are, four and a half years later. Home is calling, you’re excited to be where you know for a while, especially for the holidays, before heading down to London and making a life there on your own. All of your bags are packed, lined against the wall. Only a few more boxes need to be shipped to your new address, and you have time to do that tomorrow before your flight in a day. All of it is coming together, except for the fact that you have to face what you’ve been actively avoiding for the last four years, because you know it’s going to be something you talk about.

And only a few minutes pass with this thought, because then the buzzer rang, you clicked the button and opened the apartment door, and before you could properly think of a greeting, you’re sucked into his arms, his entire body wrapped around you tightly. He is warm and smells so good, you swear it’s impossible that he’s just gotten off an airplane. His warmth is familiar, a sweet scent wafting over you as you wrap your arms around his shoulders and hold him, your eyes shut as you just soak in the silence. He’s quiet, as well, and you know that you both are thinking the same thing, trying to avoid the unspoken energy in the room. You wonder how long it’ll take for him to say something about it, and you wonder how long after that it’ll take you to blurt out the words that have been itching at your throat since that dreaded night you think about often, the night you regret more than anything.

Matty slowly pulls away, grabbing your cheeks and staring at you intensely, and you feel like your whole body is on fire and you can feel the heat of his breath on your mouth, and you want nothing more than to be kissing him, to feeling his lips on yours. His thumb traces your cheek, and he says, “I’m so happy you’re coming home. I’ve missed you.”

“I’m only home for a week. I move to London next week,” you say, and immediately you feel guilty for not spilling out how much you’ve missed him since you’ve been away. “I’ve missed you, more than you could believe.” His smile is enough to make you feel like your feet are floating above the ground, and you have to step away, reaching for a mug on the counter and taking a sip of the warm tea. “I’ve come down with a cold, I’m sorry. I know we have to share a bed and all, but I’ll try to stay away from you.”

“Don’t worry about me, darling. I mean it,” Matty says surely, taking a look around the empty apartment. He’s been here a handful of times, coming to visit here and there and always spending the most amount of time with you that he could, even if that meant sitting and watching you write on your computer for hours. “Do you want to do anything, tonight? I don’t mind staying in if you’re not feeling well.”

“I think there’s a Walmart about thirty minutes away,” you say reaching for your phone and clicking at your screen to try and find a car to take you there. “Don’t feel like, tied to me, while you’re here. I’m okay with being alone.”

“I’m not okay with you being alone,” Matty says without a second thought, grabbing his things out of his bag and opening the door for you, waiting for you to lead the way. He follows you closely and watches you as you stare at the scenery around you. You’ve always been this way, a city person at heart, from the moment he met you, you talked about moving to the city. Granted, he didn’t know that it would be New York City, but he did always know you would wind up somewhere with hustle and bustle, and you would fit in.

“Quit staring at me,” you say, not willing to look away from the sight of the car passing over the bridge. Having to leave feels so bittersweet. On one hand, you are excited to be home, to be living in London and around your friends. On the other, you know that you’re going to miss the city you’ve fallen in love with. It’s been your true love for so long, it feels like heartbreak.

“I’m not staring,” Matty says, turning his head out the window, a smirk fighting to curve across his mouth. “You’re staring at me, now.” His smile is wide when you quickly turn away from looking at him, the view of the store coming in front of you. “Come on, sicky. I’m sure you dragged me here for a puzzle that you certainly will not finish.”

“I will finish it,” you say, rolling your eyes and climbing out of the car behind him. Matty takes your hand, and you can feel electricity and heat wash through your body, entangling your nerves. “I want an artsy one. Not sure which one, but something pretty.”

Matty nods and you walk through the store quietly, neither of you saying much. There are too many unspoken words in the air and neither of you are willing to start the conversation. Matty points towards the aisle with the puzzles, and you follow him, standing quietly as you peruse the options and try to find one that calls your name. Your eyes follow his movements, tallying the new tattoos and the significance of different ink on his skin. You always told him that you wanted a tattoo, but you were never willing to go alone.

“Ah, you can make your own puzzle with a picture,” he says, drawing you out of your trance and towards an advertisement. “Do we have time for that?”

“I don’t think so,” you say, shaking your head. “Could you grab that one? That looks easy enough,” you add, pointing towards a tree of life puzzle on the very top shelf. Matty reaches for it easily, grabbing it and handing it to you to look at. “Perfect, thank you,” you say quietly, taking it from his hands, and without a second though, you kiss his cheek. His eyes go wide, and you can see the thoughts swirling around in his head. “Matty, seriously, don’t even think about it, I’m sick. I can’t get you sick before we fly home.”

“Have I ever cared about anything like that before?” Matty says seriously, turning towards you and taking a step forward, his body dangerously close to yours. “Are you really telling me not to?”

“No,” you swallow, and you can feel every nerve inch into your throat, your heart beating so loudly you can feel it reverberating in your ears. “Are you drunk or high? I don’t,” you pause, thinking very carefully about what you’re going to say next, “this can’t be like the other times.”

“YN, I just got off a plane three hours ago.” His body is now so close, you can feel his chest against yours, his breath hot against your face. You feel suffocated in this moment, too enraptured by the way being around him feels and the way he smells and the way his eyes have not left your lips, not even once. His hands come to your cheeks, a feeling you know all too well. “Can I?”

“Please,” you whisper, and suddenly your breath is taken away by his mouth on yours. Kissing him, it feels like sharing oxygen, like flying. Kissing him, it feels like every wrong decision is right and every bad thing is good. Kissing him, it feels like coming home. Kissing him, it feels like what you should’ve been doing all along. “I want to go home,” you mutter against his lips, and you can feel him smile against you. You can’t see it with your eyes closed, but the way his mouth is leaving open mouthed kisses on your cheek, it’s easy to tell.

“Take me home.”

Three simple words that have so much meaning, so much weight. Take me home. Take me home to your house. Take me home where we can be alone. Take me home where I can finally be with you, the way I’ve always wanted to be with you. Take me home, where we can start something, we’ve been waiting our whole lives for. Take me home, where I can be yours forever.

And the tension is there when you’re getting out of the car, and when you’re walking the stairs to get into the apartment, and when you’re quietly moving about the apartment trying to avoid talking to him about what just happened at all costs. Matty shuts and locks the door behind you, watching you mill about the apartment anxiously as he’s pressed against the wall, arms folded in front of his chest. You walk around him a few times, jumping back and forth from the kitchen to grab wine glasses that you were shipping out tomorrow and a wine bottle that you bought specifically for you two to share and the puzzle on the ground next to your makeshift mattress for the next day before you leave. Until finally, he can’t take it anymore.

“I don’t care about the bloody fucking puzzle, YN,” Matty says suddenly, cutting you out of your anxious thought wheel and walking directly over to you, grabbing your cheeks, and kissing you deeply, kissing you hard. His breath feeds you, and you feel like you could exist in this bubble for a long time, never needing anything else. “I want you so badly.”

“I want you, too,” you sigh, a moan leaving your lips as his hands begin wandering around your skin. “I don’t want this to be just a one-off thing, Matty. I don’t want to be a one-off thing.”

“You have never been a one-off thing,” he says sternly, gently tugging at the hem of your shirt and pulling it above your head with ease. He’s warm, and he’s almost certain it’s not from the heat of your apartment. “I have never, ever wanted anyone the way I want you. I love you.”

“I’m sorry I didn’t say ‘I love you’ back,” you say, and it’s the very first time in minutes that Matty has pulled away from you to really look at you. His heart softens, his thumb brushing under your cheek as a stray tear falls. All the emotions all at once are hitting you, and it feels like it’s too much, but you don’t want to stop, you don’t want this moment to end. It’s you and him. You and Matty, for the first time, and it feels just how it’s supposed to feel, “I’m sorry I didn’t say it back, back then, and I hope it’s not too late now to say it.”

“It’s not, baby. It’s not too late,” he assures you, leaning his forehead against yours and breathing against your lips. “I am still in love with you. I am in love with you. Nothing’s changed. Nothing about that has changed four years later.”

“I love you,” you say, and it’s easy, the words are easy coming from you to him. Matty smiles, leaning down and kissing you passionately, his hands reaching under your thighs and lifting you onto his waist, carrying you a few steps backwards to where your makeshift bed is. “I’m sorry about the bed.”

“Don’t care about the bed,” Matty whispers against your lips, setting you on your feet and working quickly to undo the buttons on your jeans. He’s skilled at this, you’ve noticed, the multitude of times he’s hurriedly worked to undo your jeans at family parties seemingly coming in handy, at this very moment. He’s heard you moan before; he’s made you orgasm, but it’s never gone this far, it’s never been this, and there’s an anticipation killing both of you that you are not willing to play with. “I have a condom in my wallet.”

“You’re an asshole,” you laugh, shaking your head as you kick your jeans to the side and take a seat on the edge of the makeshift mattress. All you have on is your bralette and a seamless pair of underwear, not exactly the most ideal pairing, but something about it makes this feel even more perfect. Nothing was expected or certain. Like you two. Matty scrambles in his bag for the condom, and you can’t help but laugh watching him. He’s hurried and frantic and you have to remind him, “I am quite cold over here, but I’m not going anywhere. Take your time, I guess.”

“I’m doing my best,” Matty says with a grunt, swearing once or twice before smiling widely and waving the packets in his hand excitedly. “And I’m not an asshole, I just had very high hopes.”

“Extremely high.”

“You’re naked, aren’t you? Doesn’t seem like such a far-fetched hope to me.”

“And my clothes are right there,” you reply back with a smirk, pointing at your jeans and shirt piled together in the corner of the room. “Can put them back on in two seconds and we can go back to that lovely puzzle and my bottle of wine.”

“I’ll run into traffic.”

“You’re so dramatic.”

Matty shrugs off his sweater and his jeans, carefully leaning down and climbing over you, his warmth covering you completely. “I love you.” His face leans down and kisses you, the condoms forgotten somewhere beside you and the duvet at the edge of the mattress getting pulled over his back to cover you in extra warmth. “I would’ve waited a lifetime for you. I’m so glad I didn’t have to, though. That might’ve killed me.”

“I wouldn’t have made you wait that long,” you assure him, your hands holding his cheeks and threading through his hair. His hips dip against yours, and you can feel him hard and heavy against your core. You want him, and you don’t think you can wait any longer. Your hands move from his cheeks, trailing down his chest, pushing his boxers down his thighs. He pushes the material off his legs, leaning back onto his feet to look at you in front of him. “I clearly didn’t think this would happen. I’m not entirely, you know, ready.”

“You’re ridiculous,” Matty says, his hands reaching behind your back and slipping your bralette off your body, his mouth immediately kissing alongst your chest, ghosting over your breasts and down your stomach. His hands are warm against your, but the goosebumps rising along your body from his touch is invigorating. He drags your underwear down your legs, kissing inside your thighs sweetly before climbing back up to meet you face to face. “I have so many things I want to do with you. You are just so beautiful.”

“You have time, Matty. I’m not going anywhere. I love you.”

Matty fumbles with the condom wrapper for a moment, earning a giggle and a muffled laugh from him as he lays his hand over your mouth to quiet the laughter. He leans over you when it’s fully wrapped around him, his mouth heavy on yours. His fingers gently drag alongst your center, your arousal coating his fingertips and earning a moan from both of you. His cock moves easily against you, you’re so ready for him and anticipating this, that all you want is for him to finally be with you. “This is it. You’re coming home. I love you. And you love me. It’s us, now.”

“Us,” you whisper, a moan escaping your throat as he slowly inches himself into you, his forehead falling to yours and his mouth desperately finding yours to kiss you, to swallow your moans and your breaths and feel every part of you that he can. Matty’s arms are next to your face and your feel held and safe with him, like there’s nothing that could possibly go wrong while you’re like this. His hand slides between you, rubbing at the nerves between your thighs and kissing along your neck, your fingers dragging alongst his back as your legs circle around his waist, bringing him impossibly closer. His curls are clinging to his forehead with sweat, and you feel like your body is on fire, but it’s something you’ve craved for so long that you’re basking in it, that it’s everything you’ve wanted to feel. His thrusts are driven and hitting the right places and you think that it’s quite possible that you were always made to be together, that his body was made for you to enjoy and you for his. “I love you,” you whimper, your whole body tightening and your nails digging into his shoulders as your orgasm washes over you. His body stills above you, your legs still wrapped around his waist, and you can feel him release, his body easing into yours. He doesn’t want to move, but he knows he has to, and you hate the feeling of losing his warmth.

“Don’t move, baby. I’ll be right back,” he hums, kissing you sweetly as he slowly slides out and removes the condom, and he turns around when you giggle, your eyes fully fixated on his backside. “Are you staring at my ass?”

“Yes.”

“Is it nice?”

“Very.”

Matty laughs, shaking his head as he walks towards the wall and turns the heat another notch, before walking back towards you and sinking under the comforter with you. He lays on your chest, his hand wrapping around your waist, his fingers dragging along the curve of your side. “You don’t have to be so worked up, now. I know you, I know you’ve been awake all day because you were nervous about me coming.”

“I was not nervous.”

“You were nervous,” he says surely, his forearm supporting his body weight as he trails his fingers up your body and begins tracing your lips. He’s always been enthralled by your lips, by the way they feel on his. “You’re so beautiful. I can’t believe you’re mine.”

“Have you already told the guys?” you ask, turning your head slightly to give him better access to your skin, your eyes remaining closed and only listening to the sound of his voice. Outside, the stars and the moon are shining through the window, casting a perfect light over you.

“Told them what?”

“Don’t play dumb, Matthew.”

“They knew at Walmart.”

“I hate you so much,” you say, trying to hide the smile and the laughter that is fighting its way to the surface with your hands covering your face. Matty pulls your hands away, and you look at him, your eyes meeting his softly. “What are you looking at me like that for?”

“I have something that may make you feel better.”

“I doubt that.”

“I mean, the guys don’t know that you’ve given me head every Christmas since you moved to New York, if that makes you feel better,” he smiles, the smirk on his face telling you everything he isn’t.

“And look at that! Tradition just ended. Just in the nick of time for this year,” you say, smacking his arm and turning around in the bed to face away from him. Matty wraps his arm around your waist, pulling you into his chest and kisses your shoulder sweetly. “I’m going to be travelling a lot for work. How are we going to do it?”

“You and I can figure that out,” Matty says surely, kissing the indent of your shoulder once more before gently guiding you to lay on your back, his eyes meeting yours. “I don’t want you to see anyone else.”

“I don’t want to see anyone else.” Matty leans down to kiss you, and you hum against him, a content smile breaking apart your lips. “How many of the guys bet on this happened? I want to know.”

“I don’t think it was much of a bet of if it would happen,” he says, his fingers pushing stray strands of hair away from your forehead softly. “More of when.”

“Great! Happy to know they think I’m easy, Matthew.”

“Not my fault they can judge a situation! Think about it, darling, you can only sneak off at holiday parties so many times before someone notices.” He’s right, and you know it. “Not to mention, we weren’t very good at hiding it.” His mouth leans against your cheek when you roll your eyes, he knows he’s won this time. “I want to go to Central Park before we leave.”

“Central Park is just landscaping that people don’t take care of properly and tourists littering. It’s practically Sea World for New York City.”

“Can you do anything without posing an argument?”

“No, and now you’re in for a lifetime of arguments. That’s on you.”

Matty smiles brightly because he wouldn’t care if you argued over the simplest things every minute for the rest of his life if it meant he got to be with you.

[hellaversity]

This is probably the worst video I have ever seen on YouTube.

This guy is yet another one of those so-called Hellaverse "critics" who hates Vivziepop with a burning passion and hates almost every character in Helluva Boss. (But Blitzø is his biggest target of all, as this garbage video suggests.)

First off, he literally says Striker and Stella aren't as bad as Blitzø, that Blitzø is irredeemable and he's never ever gonna change, legit thinks every single guest at Verosika's party really was THAT heartbroken and totally aren't just overreacting, and that Stolas and Verosika did nothing wrong.

Fuck this piece of shit, he's just yet another Danny Motta.

Another one! More proof that he's a toxic Stolas stan reminiscent of Danny Motta who thinks Blitzø is worse than Stella because he yelled at his favorite rich pretty bird boy.

[androgynousblackbox]

Alright, I am watching the reaction stream of another person to see the video of Jamesy and I have thoughts! -Jamesy is REALLY counting on buttering up to Jessie Gender specifically. He named her so many times trying to "apologize" for weaponizing his audience against her when she told him to not erase her work in Nebula just because his whiny entitled ass couldn't accept that he wasn't invited to the platform. Not a single word about actually going to her and talk privately though, just a bunch of "ooh, Jessie Gender is the kindest, best human being ever and I am so sorry to her", like, bitch, WHY ARE YOU EVEN TALKING ABOUT HER? Jessie wasn't the worst victim of your actions! Your bullshit with her happened long BEFORE anything of this happened, so why the fuck are you even bringing her up?? My only guess is that Jamesy wants Jessie to speak on his favor and "forgive him", hoping that will bring him new good will from the queer community in youtube. I am fucking crossing my fingers and touching wood that Jessie does not fall for this manipulative bullshit. This guy is literally clout chasing because, again, when it came to the plagiarism, Jessie had NOTHING to do here. Jessie, if you want an easy win, don't say anything about this. Don't even aknowledge it. Pretend like a mosquito just farted in another building. You had nothing to do with this and I am sorry this piece of shit is trying to drag you into it to take advantage of your good nature. -"I only cared about the production side of making videos, that is why I bring Nick in as the main writer." This motherfucker really went and did it. He is literally blaming Nick squarely now, because now he is just not a co-writer. No, now he is the MAIN WRITER. Jamesy here was just trying to making his little films and buy expensive ass equipment while telling everyone he was starving on the streets, he only cared about the production. NICK, THOUGH, HE WAS ALL ABOUT THE WRITING. He was the one who put the words and little Jamesy baby boy here only "produced, directed and edited" (omg, shut the fuck off, man, your editing skills are mid at best) everything. -Way too many sob stories. I don't care, man. I don't fucking care that you got fired or whatever conditions you had. Do you have any fucking clue how many people do really struggle to reach the end of the month and they still never even think of stealing someone else's work? Everyone is struggling and yet, you were the one who made a career for fucking years out of stealing the works of everyone else in this community AND THEN, when call out, tried to paint them as the bad guys.

-A lot, and I do mean, a lot of time to "apologize" to Jessie Gender, but you know who he didn't apologize to? Literally none of the authors he stole from. Not the fan whose edit of Korra he used without credit. Not Alexander Avila. Not that person who was harassed to hell and back by Jamesy and his audience when they showed how he plagiarized on his disney video. Jessie deserved to be name dropped at least thirty times, but those people?? They are fucking nobodies. They don't matter. Why name them at all? It's not like their WORK WAS STOLEN BY YOU OR ANYTHING! And that is another thing! Even if Jamesy is really out there blaming Nick for all the words that they took without credit, then what the fuck is up with all the footage, edits and audiovisual works that weren't for you to take? You said your passion is production. That is part of the production, Jamesy. Is this you admitting you fully just fucking stole them and hoped nobody would notice because you are a lazy piece of garbage?

-"Having to do multiple edits because youtube copyright issues was so hard for me, guys, you don't understand uwu. It was so hard on me to make it less obvious I had plagiarized people!" THAT IS ENTIRELY YOUR OWN FAULT, BRO.

-So, hey, funny thing. I was looking to see if other people were reacting or had reuploaded the video so I could put it here. They haven't yet, there is only two reactions, but while I was doing that I found a video of ANOTHER person talking about Jamesy ripping them off: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=bsD-wodn288 Apparently Jamesy had stolen a blog post that this person wrote about Lord of The Rings and they weren't known by anyone, they don't even like that article anymore, but still! Go see that video instead of watching Jamesy and support them if you find value on their work.

-Hey, Jamesy. Jamesy. You do know that epilepsy and head injuries or memory issues don't take you threaten, lie and weaponize your audience against people who call out your plagiarism with the evidence in hand, right? That has literally nothing to do actually, because you had to be aware off of the issue for you to lie about it after someone else brought it up. After the first time it happened, you could have hired another beta reader to tell you that ups, your memory/epilepsy/memory issues/ADHD strike again and you don't remember from where you took that quote from, sorry! You had money for that expensive ass camera, you could have. -Like, my guy, there were so many steps involved here. So many steps from writing, production, backlash and your response to the backlash. Even if any part on this was an honest mistake, something I don't fucking believe in because fuck you, you had millions of opportunities to rectified it and change it. And yet you didnd't. And so here we are, without you receiving not even a miserable fucking like. Go to hell. A mistake doesn't get repeated so many times for years. That was all a choice, bitch. Fuck you.

And here is where I stopped because his voice is like nail on my ears.

Don't look at his video, it's truly not worth it. DON'T LEAVE COMMENTS EITHER, YOUTUBE TAKES THAT AS ENGAGEMENT ANYWAY.

[kerakeriza]

may i ask why you dislike the gray suit of damian, while I don't have an opinion on it I'm genuinely curious to yours

OH I AM HAPPY TO ELABORATE!!! please excuse how angry i sound. that is because i have been frustrated and angry all freaking day and i am so so glad to have an outlet for that anger via totally destroying the absolute TRAINWRECK that is his ugly gray suit.

here is the reference picture i will be using.

literally the worst color balance ever. why are only his mask, belt buckle, and shoelaces green? why is only the inside of his cape yellow? why is everything else gray!?!?!??! just the whole color pallete and the amounts of each color is horrendous. i can't even begin to describe how awful the PLACEMENT of each color is either.

2. his mask doesn't even fucking connect in the middle. he looks stupid. really, really stupid. he's not some mysterious magic guy who would have a reason to have his mask look like big bug eyes. he just looks stupid. we all know he's a powerless vigilante. it's dumb.

3. WHY does his collar splay out so weakly. either go all the way or don't go out at all. and why are the collar and hood's insides suddenly red? is he roleplaying as dracula? is that his problem? notice how it doesn't FUCKING match the mask. there is zero gradient here. straight green to red. he's like if a vampire was being forced to dress up like santa claus. why is he giving christmas? it's stupid. don't even get me STARTED on the random fucking... bars? under his neck. what the fuck ARE those? they're literally pointless. they clearly aren't holding anything together. they look nothing like cape clasps. they're literally just random metal bars on his clavicle for no goddamn reason. it's stupid. he looks stupid.

4. again a horrible awful terrible color gradient. deep vampire red to fucking cool dull gray. WITH YELLOW BEHIND HIM... ughhh. and the R looks so fucking stupid. he looks like he bought a knockoff red R from comic con or something and just pinned it there because that's where the R is ~supposed~ to go and not because it makes any sort of sense. why is it right smack dab in the middle of that red outline? it looks RIDICULOUS!

5. more random pointless garbo. the fuck are these straps for? just to make the suit harder to draw? is he trying to crush his own ribcage? the fuck are these FOR? besides looking ugly and stupid i mean. and why are they a lighter gray? they clash even more with the red than the darker gray does.

6. you look at this tiny baby cuck gloves and tell me that looks even halfway decent. first of all - again the red looks like ass with that yellow backdrop. is he cosplaying a condiment drawer? he's rocking both ketchup AND mustard i guess! and why the fuck are the gloves so SMALL? so SHORT? why have them cuffed to look like armor if they're just gonna be so small they invoke fully cloth gloves instead? the fuck is that for? and where did the SPIKES go? he LIKED the glove spikes. he was very obviously aiming for fatherly approval. it's not as if you can convince me he has his father's approval NOW, looking like such hot garbage. he looks like if condiment king had bad sushi for lunch and threw it back up and damian dug his costume out of the bile.

7. tell me, is it supposed to be a D? or an arrow? you'll notice how neither of those options make for an actual good idea. and why. is. it. GREEN! it matches NOTHING! and once more, the light gray? seriously? over a black belt on top of a darker gray suit? i can't even fully articulate just how ugly that fucking belt buckle is. awful shape, worse color, and it looks like a piece of shiny plastic that's painted to look like metal but really you know damn well it's plastic because you got it at the fucking dollar tree.

8. does the designer of this atrocity know that all the pointed edges only work if it looks intentional? the red tunic with yellow trim made it look good. it slayed. but the same monotone gray all over the tunic just looks sad. weak. like nobody bothered hemming his clothes. but that's not even the worst part. the worst part is how overdone all the sharp pointy triangles get. once you see the boots it's like, oh, he's just all edge and no point, huh?

9. why the fuck are the red outlines so BOLD here. so PROTRUDING... it looks just plain creepy. and why does the actual knee have to be the same color as the red of his pants, which are the same color as his tunic? it's so fucking BORING!

10. oh boy more useless metal bars clinging to his clothes for no reason! again, it's ugly as shit, has no purpose, and only exists to make the design look somehow even worse than it already does. NEXT!

11. these disgusting, grody ass pixie boot sneakers make me wanna snap somebody's neck. why are they so short? why do they have a double cuff? why are they literally just fucking sneakers with a rhino horn glued on? why is there a red squiggle down the middle? why are they a light gray? why is the sole red? did he buy them from the toddler section? actually, no, even toddler shoes have better color coordination than whatever the fuck is going on here. those green laces are the worst part of all. couldn't even do a dark gray for that, huh? the literal worst possible choice in color is exactly what they went for each fucking time but ESPECIALLY for these fucking boots. no, they're not boots, they're sneakers. my bad. these fucking SNEAKERS are so goddamn WACK that i think the only way anyone would actually buy them and wear them is if you slapped a 10,000 USD price tag on them and sold them under the gucci label, making way for young money influencers to waste all their cash on ugly garbage just to make a statement about how much money they have instead of spending their time and resources on actually developing a sense of style. but that's being generous, because not even gucci would sell something this fuck-ugly.

i'd waste my time redesigning this suit but i fear it'd drive me insane. my time would be far better spent analyzing costumes that actually look good and talking about why they work and are not so ugly they make me wish i could pour bleach into my eyes without dying.