#no but actually writing is so fucking fun

[apollosdrunkenmixup]

From what I understood of a two hour mutual infodump (I received kratos: god of war lore, he received greek myths)

Kratos is god of war bc he killed Ares (and a lot of other people/gods).

In better news no one is gonna tell the gods about this fuckup of a post bc you’ve assigned Hermes to a comedy club instead of his usual messages lol

this website’s easy watch. *dangles a bunch of greek gods like keys*

[crossdressingdeath]

You know what the most frustrating thing about DAV criticism is at the moment? It's that I do in fact have criticisms. Quite a few, actually. It's a Bioware game, of course I have criticisms. No one I've spoken to or whose posts I've seen thinks it's perfect or above criticism. But the thing is, I—and I imagine a lot of other firmly positive blogs—know that if I share any of those criticisms, if I make posts discussing them and talk about the game's flaws, I will immediately be inundated by people using those complaints to insist that the whole game is garbage and the writing is bad and Bioware's a terrible studio who can't make good games and DAI (of all fucking games) was so much better and blah blah blah blah. I know that because it's happened every goddamn time I've made a less-than-positive post about DAV. And I don't have the energy to deal with that! The endless stream of bad faith criticism wears me down and having to constantly stop to defend a game I like when I'm trying to discuss its flaws because if I don't (and frankly half the time even if I do) people will use my posts to claim the whole game is garbage is exhausting, and fandom is supposed to be fun. So I can't discuss DAV's flaws on tumblr if I want to avoid that, and it is infuriating. I see people bitching about toxic positivity and people refusing to acknowledge the game's flaws, and I really want those people to take a second to consider: do the game's fans ignore its flaws and refuse to accept that anything about it is bad? Or have you created an environment that is so toxic that no one who likes the game wants to risk getting your attention by mentioning what's bad about it and they respond more aggressively than is warranted to even genuine critique in an attempt to ward you off? Because there will always be assholes who claim that genuine problems are Fine, Actually, Stop Being Such A Baby... but if people can't address the game's flaws in public without immediately getting dragged into five different arguments about how it is in fact ultimately a really solid game, they're not going to do it no matter how much they recognise those flaws.

[tevaselmundogiraalreves]

BUDDIE FIC RECS PART 2

Okay heres more fics cause ive been reading so so much lately, i cannot and will not be stopped. Heres the first list. I will most prob keep on making lists cause i honestly cannot stop reading. Once again, in no particular order:

Songbird by @colonoscopys - Goes first cause i just finished reading this one. FREAK EDDIE IS MY PASION. I said it already but at one point eddie eats bucks hair. Its awesome! FreakxFreak DumbxDumb

a bleeding sun on a silver screen by @hoediaz EVERYONE ALREADY READ THIS ONE RIGHT? IF NOT WTF ARE YOU EVEN DOING GO! ACTORS AU YOU WILL NE FAMOUS FOREVER.

chess inside my chest by @buick118 - HELLOOOO THIS ONE FIXED SOMETHING INSIDE MY CHEST "heart clipped in the backseat with his headphones already secured over his ears." I NEED AN EXPLANATION FOR THIS WRITING ❤️‍🩹

Two, Three Times in a Row by leslie_knope i honestly have no words for how much i love this fic, i reread it all the time, like ive reread it so much its embarrasing. Some of the best smut ive read.

wanna do a bad thing twice by @coldbam BUCK IS SUCH A FREAK GOD HE IS SUCH A FREAK

(You know what actually there are 2 more fics were buck is the freakiest hes ever been so ill put them right below ⬇️)

slow motion, double vision in rose blush by @saryasy Eddie Diaz. His friend. His Eddie. Has kissed a man. Which is strange because Buck is sure as hell he'd remember kissing Eddie.

Me at Buck: FREAAAAAAAAK

Also special mention to that flashback WOW!

i can tell just what you want (you don't want to be alone) by @tallsinspace Buck loses it every single time this is so awesome, it was so FUN reading INFIDELEDDIE this hiatus 🫶🏽

songs and poems and promises by @lesbianrobin buck summer of disatisfaction turns around thanks to eddie god they are so in love! Also special mention to chim well and maddie lets fucking goooooo

we keep this love in a photograph by @burnthatbridge its just so so freaking beautiful. Buck chooses eddies pics for his dating app after he comes out...

the tortured poets department by @colonoscopys once again the kind of fic that you wanna reread again and again.

"The first time Buck touched him, Eddie blew an ambulance up."

still sitting in a corner i haunt by @cal-daisies-and-briars i just love this one so much, should reread it, trust me its worth it.

we're not in love (but the sex is good) by elless. Idk i loved this one. Buddie are not even friends they just want the benefits as soon as they meet. The transition from that to them actually getting to know each other so naturally and start caring about each other is so beautiful.

in the passenger seat by @livingincolorsagain Evan Buckley was put on God’s green earth to drive Eddie Diaz around.

Just BEAUTIFUL.

tying you to me by @hoediaz ONCE AGAIN PERFECT TYPE OF WRITING. Buddie meet each other after 5x11. SO ORIGINAL GOD.

the soft animal of your body by @hattalove . This is a coda to another fic but can be read on its own. Just beautiful beautiful love making. I think i commented that i felt like they were making love with the words they were saying to each other just sitting on the kitchen table talking.

we could follow the sparks, i’ll drive by @markofalover bucks kink should be people calling him mr. diaz and thinking hes eddies husband.

Wait for me there by @kitkatpancakestack Childhood friends reunite after 8 years. I just really really loved this one. Those flashbacks to the past are so beautiful.

wanna be your endgame by literalmetaphor gotta be honest dont see this happening in canon at all cause the second eddie confesses buck would go down on his knees lets be honest. BUT this was so great! I loved it.

Pivot Tables by rainbowninja167 Does it show that i love reading buddie being so freaky and so kinky. Ill just say this: educational sex. Buck brings on the clipboard. Obsessed with this one.

I Broke What You Gave Me, But You Kept Giving More by rcdwings. memory loss buck cant remember his husband. Listen im not always a fun of memory loss fics but i loved this one i loved the twist.

there's a word for it, I'm sure by @ithilien-writes i have to reread this one asap cause i loved it so so much they are just so in love with each other but cant admit it so they just start having sex about it. And god they love esch other.

i could give you fifty reasons by @marviless buck FLIRTS with eddie cause he just want ti help. God this one was so much fun. I remember laughing out loud. I gotta reread.

beating the horse by @doitbuckley Eddie is moving to Texas. Buck finally figures out what he wants. Perfect read to the end of 8a.

In the Back Seat, Windows Up by @semperama SEX IN THE BACKSIT OF THE TRUCK LETSFUCKINGGOOOOOO

Play Me For Keeps by @semperama this one made me feel so MANY things in less than 1k words I WAS WONDERSTRUCK HONESTLY SMILING FROM EAR TO EAR

would you lie with me and just forget the world by @colonoscopys reread this one recently GODDDDD if you havent just go read it right now!!! Childhood friends to lovers for the win always.

your beauty (not just a mask) by @aashiqeddiediaz these next two fics GOD well i have a thing for mirrors and sex in front of mirrors apparently so... this i top tier for me. This one is the shorter one in front of the bathroom mirror 100/10 no notes.

my mirror (staring back at me) by @aashiqeddiediaz this one is longer. Mirror in the bedroom......... Eddie notices bucks insecurities and well he does smth about it ❤️‍🔥 such a fave of mine. It has everything!!!

Dreaming of a White Christmas by rosebuddiekin . Oh boy!!!... just gonna leave the blurb here cause no words could ever be enough: "Buck accepts a challenge to be edged in his and Eddie's own version of the 12 Days of Christmas and loses his mind a little more with each one." (Btw if someone knows the author please lmk. They put a link to their tumblr on ao3 but it doesnt work for me.)

[kikidoul]

── BROTHER'S BEST FRIEND.

໒꒰ྀི ^ ⸝⸝ ^ ꒱ྀིა박성훈 x fem! reader content established relationship non-idol au older brother's best friend trope reader is jay's younger sister ᥫ᭡ warning explicit sexual content unprotected sex (stay safe!) petnames used kissing pussy eating fingering begging squirting overstimulation sunghoon being a tease and wear glasses (important trust) jay cockblocking (not sorry). . .!? 1111— mlist. part two

note. another reupload from yours truly. currently writing part two so it will be posted soon, hopefully...

You have met your older brother’s friends a couple of times, having known them since you were young. They were a loud and chaotic group, if one were to ask for your opinion on them. But among them, there was someone who piqued your interest. Sunghoon isn't as talkative as the others. He mostly keeps to himself but you have seen him cracking jokes or making fun of your brother; Jay, resulting in the two bickering back and forth. It’s a common sight to hear them argue about the smallest things, much to everyone’s amusement. 

You knew it was wrong to have feelings for your brother’s friend but you couldn’t help it. Not when Sunghoon was nothing but kind and caring towards you. His features were simply another plus point and everything about him simply makes you swoon. You had to walk around your brother, hiding your relationship with Sunghoon from him. You know how overprotective Jay can be when it comes to you. The last thing you want is to end Sunghoon and Jay’s friendship. You knew how the two are practically glued to the hips, always coming as a pair.

“Ngh, Hoonie, fuck, hah, m-more,” you whined, your back arching off the bed. 

Your legs were slung over your boyfriend’s broad shoulders. Your left hand was covering your mouth; a feeble attempt of muffling your moans while the other gripped onto his abyssal-like hair. You couldn’t help but bucked your hips forward, craving more. It was a miracle you had survived this long before meeting Sunghoon and you came to learn that he was amazing with his mouth and fingers. 

Your boyfriend hums, moving his long, thick fingers in a scissor-like movement, opening and preparing you for what’s to come. Your eyes rolled up at a harsh suck of your clit, his tongue delving deeper. In the span of what felt like years when it was actually an hour, he had managed to make you cum a total of two times. The first was done by his fingers while the second was done by his tongue. Currently, he was pushing you over your comfort zone, hoping you could cum a third time. 

As they always say, third times the charm, right?

You squirmed about on the drenched sheets, gripping onto the pillow for dear life. Breathy moans flowed from your lips, like water falling from a water tap. 

“Fuck!” 

You gasped, thighs buckling as Sunghoon swirls the overly stimulated bud with his tongue. You felt it, the fire in your abdomen and how heat was spreading under your skin. Throwing all caution out of the window with the only thing in your mind was chasing your impending climax, you frantically jerked your hips forward. Your boyfriend got the hint, allowing you to fuck his tongue and it didn’t took you long to reach your climax. 

As compared to the orgasms you had before, this was more powerful and it took a deep toll on your body. You weren’t sure what happened as you laid on the bed, loosening your grip on Sunghoon’s hair, eyes closing to take a much-needed breather. 

“Woah, that was hot. I didn’t know you had it in you.” 

You opened your eyes, only to pause at the lewd scene before you. The frames of his glasses were coated in a thin layer of your juices. Some were dripping as it trailed down the frames, landing on the sheets. Your breath caught in your throat as Sunghoon licked his lips, his chin was glistening underneath the ceiling light. You wanted to apologize but he waved you off, knowing what you wanted to say. 

“You don’t have to apologize, princess,” he grins, moving closer until your noses graze against one another. “But I believe I should get a reward for making you squirt for the first time, right?” 

You light-heartedly rolled your eyes, choosing not to reply and kissed him instead. Sunghoon grinned into the kiss, parting your lips with his tongue, allowing you to taste yourself. He positioned himself in between your legs, one hand trailing down to fondle with your hardened peaks. You moaned into his mouth, the sound doing wonders to his body and mind. Wanting to hear more, Sunghoon broke the kiss. He aligned his cock to your needy, neglected and sensitive dripping entrance. 

“Look at you, I didn’t even have to use lube,” he breathed out, unable to tear his eyes away from the erotic sight of watching his cock disappearing inch by inch, getting swallowed by your greedy clit. 

“Oh god.. Hoonie,” you whined, throwing your head back, your gummy and velvety walls sucking him in, making him groan at the feeling. 

By the time he was buried deep in you, you felt like you were floating on a cloud. Sunghoon started thrusting, hips snapping against yours as he massaged your inner thighs—wanting you to relax and enjoy yourself. The bed moved along with your movements, the bedframe hitting the wall at equal intervals. At this rate, you’ve long forgotten that your brother had arrived home after a hectic day of back-to-back classes. Which was why none of you were prepared for the unexpected moment of Jay opening the door without knocking. 

“Hey sis, could you—Wait, what the fuck!?” He asks, raising his head from his phone, only for him to shriek at the top of his lungs. 

Both of you whirled your heads to his direction and your reactions were immediate. Sunghoon scrambled to move away from you while you pulled the sheets up, covering your body from your brother’s poor eyes. Jay had shielded his eyes with one hand, back facing the both of you. 

“Uh, it’s not what it looks like,” your boyfriend chirps in and you mentally face-palmed. 

“Not what it looks like? Pray tell me, then what does it look like because I can’t believe I saw my best friend fucking my sister. Oh my God, please God, help me,” Jay exclaimed. 

The two of you shared a look and you shrugged your shoulders, having gotten used to your brother’s dramatic antics. 

“Come down to the living room and we’re going to talk about this. And you better not be fucking or I will kill you with my bare hands, is that understood?” Jay directed the threat to his best friend, who nervously gulped. 

“Yes, sir.” 

When Jay left after closing the door along with him muttering about how he needs to bleach his eyes, you ran a hand through your hair. “Well, I guess we’re going to die under the hands of my brother.”

“...Please don’t say that. I’m actually scared of my life now.” 

[your-reference-here]

Okay, I know I already reblogged this, but my brain has been absolutely gnawing on this AU's possibilities so I had to write some of my ideas down.

Boq is definitely the DM. He seems like the kind of guy who would have gotten into the game back home and then brought it to Shiz. He tries for weeks to get Galinda to play, but it's not until he mentions it to Nessa, who then mentions it to Elphaba, who THEN mentions it to Galinda that a game comes together. Fiyero tags along too because he's curious...or at least that's what he says. It's not until they actually arrive at their session zero character creation that he rolls up with a fully prepared character sheet and they all realize "oh this guy knows this game."

Here's what I think everyone decides to play:

Galinda = College of Glamour Bard. I put this in my original reblog and I'm sticking with that. The whole subclass just feels like it was made for her.

Elphaba = Wild Magic Sorcerer. I was torn on whether Wild Magic or Divine Soul would be her subclass, but thinking it over more I've decided to say fuck it, give her the Wild Magic Sorcerer build because it fits thematically and because its shenanigans are fun. In universe, my excuse is Boq suggested choosing options that they could relate to as a first time player, so there you go.

Nessa = Order Domain Cleric. In my head, Boq mentions that cleric is his favorite class, so Nessa decides to explore those options. Something about the Order Domain just speaks to her...maybe it's the desire for some control over her own life, maybe it's a dark foreshadow of who she will become later. But who's looking into it that deeply?

Fiyero = Cavalier Fighter. He just wants to kick ass on a horse. It's also a nice way to uphold a "knight in shining armor" appearance for his peers. Galinda loves it, while Elphaba just rolls her eyes and calls him out for being a horse boy.

The first game is a simple fetch quest that quickly goes off the rails. This isn't unusual as far as D&D goes, but it does escalate to a loud enough volume that the crew gets kicked out of the library and has to find another spot to play. This could be a number of places, but I like to think Doctor Dillamond is kind enough to allow them access to his classroom, mostly to keep them all out of trouble and because of his soft spot for Elphaba (he's happy to see her making friends and joining in whatever this strange social club is). His only request is that whatever mess they make is cleaned up before the first class the following day. It's very close once or twice.

Now, in terms of how our cast actually are as players...

Galinda is the confused enthusiast who has no idea what she's doing but is going to do everything with an air of exaggerated flair. This results in her being the unintentional button pusher/trap trigger-er/the one the party is constantly yelling "NO!" at a second too late. Somehow, she always manages to pull through whatever mess she is in or has gotten the entire party in, mostly because she's able to gaslight, gatekeep, girlboss everyone else, including the DM, on a whim.

Elphaba is a born rules lawyer who comes to the game having memorized all her spells and abilities, only to find herself consistently exasperated by Galinda's choices and/or fighting with Fiyero who knows the game so well that he's found countless loopholes to exploit. She does end up having fun but hoo boy does she come close to magically throwing a book at someone's head on multiple occasions.

Fiyero is just vibing and, though he won't admit it out loud, is genuinely having a good time with these people and it's the happiest he's been in a long time.

Nessa is the only one trying to keep the party on track with the plot for Boq's sake, who is beginning to question bringing this particular group of people together.

UPDATE: I just saw the spellbook again in the artwork and was like "shit that's really a wizard thing to have a spellbook" and then I remembered the beauty of the multi-class, so my solution is that Elphaba decides to multi-class later on into a School of Transmutation Wizard.

dnd au request

[cuntyji]

Heyo!!

Loved all the writing so far! Had this random idea. Like Gojo and the puppy but imagine one of the jjk men that reader chased down their new kitten that ended up cozying up to said man of choice.

Again just my random mind LOL.

You got me as a supporter of your works.

BONGO'S GUIDE TO LOVE ౨ৎ VARIOUS JJK X (GN!) READER

summary: naming your cat bongo seemed fun at first—until he started treating every man in your orbit like his personal enemy. from perching smugly on the shoulder of your tattoo artist mid-ink session to single-handedly (or single-pawedly?) trashing your neighbor's bakery, bongo is on a one-feline mission to ruin your life. or maybe, just maybe, he’s actually trying to fix it? because amidst the chaos and claw marks, there might be a paw-sible chance he’s onto something you’re not.

content warnings: gender neutral reader (no use of y/n, specific pronouns or gender mentioned). 100% sfw and crack, unestablished relationship, meet-cute. bongo cat's breed is not mentioned, only descriptor is that he is chonky. drabbles of various characters, including: stranger! sukuna, tat artist! choso, bakery owner! nanami, moving helper! toji, actor! gojo. — ( full length cat dad! geto fic here )

— RYOMEN SUKUNA  ₍^. .^₎

you watched in absolute horror as bongo, your self-declared king of bad decisions, flung himself at the most terrifying human in the park. his fur fluffed up like some sort of possessed cotton ball as he darted straight for the man’s massive combat boots. the man—ryomen sukuna, as you'd later learn—looked like he moonlighted as a death metal frontman when he wasn't out intimidating random park-goers. tattoos spilled down his neck, across his face, and from what you could see, probably over most of his terrifyingly ripped body.

“bongo, no!” you shouted, but the little menace had already committed.

sukuna's brow furrowed as he crouched, grabbing bongo by the scruff of his neck like some kind of annoyed parent dealing with a particularly unruly toddler. bongo dangled mid-air, his expression entirely unbothered, his tail swishing lazily as if to say, this is fine. you froze, half expecting sukuna to punt bongo into the stratosphere. but instead, sukuna tilted his head. 

“the hell is this?”

“oh my god, please don’t kill my cat!” you blurted, sprinting towards him with all the dignity of a car alarm. sukuna glanced at you, his crimson eyes narrowing. “why the fuck would i kill your cat?”

“i—uh,” you stammered, gesturing wildly at his tattoos like they were some sort of official cat murder license.

bongo, clearly bored of dangling, chose this exact moment to lick sukuna’s face. one looooong, obnoxious lick, from his chin to his cheekbone, leaving a trail of cat slobber behind.

you winced. “oh no—”

but sukuna just blinked. then let out a low chuckle that sounded like a chainsaw revving. “bold little shit, huh?” bongo purred louder, smushing his entire face into sukuna’s jaw like they were old pals. sukuna, to your utter disbelief, reached up with his free hand and gave your traitorous cat a solid scratch behind the ears.

“what’s his name?” sukuna asked, his tone entirely too casual for someone covered in dark tattoos and holding a cat like a teddy bear.

“…bongo,” you muttered, now questioning every life choice that had led to this moment. he smirked, finally lowering bongo to the ground, though your little idiot immediately flopped onto sukuna’s boot like it was a throne. “bongo, huh? fitting. looks like a troublemaker.”

you stared. “yeah, well, he usually doesn’t go around licking strangers.”

“good taste,” sukuna said, smirking wider. “smart cat.”

smart? your cat had the brain cells of a soggy sponge and the survival instincts of a lemming.

“right, well,” you said, attempting to scoop bongo off sukuna’s foot, but the cat clung like velcro. “sorry for… all this. he doesn’t usually—”

“don’t worry about it,” sukuna interrupted, crouching again and giving bongo another scratch that sent your little demon into a full-body wiggle. “might be the best thing that’s happened to me all week.”

“…seriously?”

“yeah.” sukuna’s grin turned sharp, teasing. “most people just run the other way.”

you raised an eyebrow. “wonder why.”

he laughed, low and deep, then stood, towering over you in the most obnoxious way possible. “guess bongo knows a good guy when he sees one.” bongo chose this moment to leap back into sukuna’s arms like some kind of feline rom-com lead, rubbing his cheek against sukuna’s chest. “traitor,” you muttered under your breath.

“looks like he’s mine now,” sukuna teased, shooting you a grin that made you feel uncomfortably warm. “not a chance,” you shot back, but your tone lacked conviction.

ryomen sukuna: terrifying, tattooed, and apparently now your cat’s best friend. god help you both.

— CHOSO KAMO  ₍^. .^₎

it was a bad idea, you knew that from the start. but bongo’s separation anxiety had you by the throat, so there he was, your chunky feline menace, perched on a folding chair like a judgmental little gargoyle as you prepared for your tattoo session. everything was fine until choso kamo walked in.

your tattoo artist was the living embodiment of a rain-a-sauce—uh, renaissance painting. his long black hair was pulled back in a low ponytail, his dark eyes framed by perfectly smudged eyeliner that made him look both mysterious and mildly intimidating. his loose black tee hung just right, accentuating broad shoulders and strong arms that you were definitely not admiring. and then bongo decided to ruin your life.

the cat launched himself like a furry cannonball straight onto choso’s shoulder. not his lap, not a nearby table—his actual shoulder.

“bongo, no!” you hissed, half-rising from the tattoo chair. but choso, calm as a goddamn monk, didn’t even flinch. instead, he turned his head slightly to glance at the literal furball now draped across him. “he’s fine,” choso said, his voice low and smooth, as if this was a completely normal occurrence. “guess he likes me.”

you gawked as bongo, the little traitor, made himself comfortable, kneading choso’s shoulder like it was a deluxe memory foam pillow. “i… i can get him off—”

“don’t worry about it,” choso interrupted, grabbing his tattoo gun with one hand while his other casually scratched behind bongo’s ears. you stared. he was petting your cat. while holding a needle. meant for your skin. “uh, are you sure that’s… safe?” you asked, your voice pitching higher as choso began inking the outline on your arm.

“he’s not bothering me,” choso replied simply, his focus entirely on his work. bothering you? you were the one about to be permanently marked while your fat, smug cat played parrot. bongo purred like a tiny chainsaw, rubbing his cheek against choso’s jaw. “great,” you muttered, clenching your teeth as the needle buzzed against your skin.

as if sensing your tension, bongo stretched out one paw and lightly bopped your cheek. “oh my god, bongo, stoopp!” you whined, glaring at him. choso chuckled softly, his lips quirking into the faintest smile. “looks like he’s trying to comfort you.”

“he’s mocking me,” you shot back, but choso’s quiet laugh was almost enough to distract you from the pain. almost. “you’re doing fine,” choso said after a beat, his voice soothing in a way that made your stomach flip. 

“thanks,” you muttered, your face heating up for reasons that definitely had nothing to do with him. meanwhile, bongo continued his reign of chaos, now swiping at choso’s dangling ponytail like it was his personal cat toy. “you’re really just gonna let him do that?” you asked incredulously. choso shrugged, completely unfazed. “he’s keeping himself entertained. and you, apparently.”

“entertained is not the word i’d use,” you grumbled, but your mouth twitched despite yourself.

“well, at least one of us is having fun,” choso said, his tone light.

and maybe it was the distraction of bongo’s antics, or the way choso’s calm presence made the pain a little more bearable, but by the end of the session, you were almost… relaxed. as choso finished up, he finally plucked bongo off his shoulder and held him up, his strong hands making your cat look oddly small. “you’re lucky you’re cute,” he muttered, though there was no bite to his words.

“you have no idea,” you said, shaking your head. choso handed bongo back to you, his lips curving into that faint smile again. “next time, maybe leave him at home.”

you glanced down at bongo, who was purring smugly in your arms. “yeah, not likely.” choso chuckled, wiping his hands clean. “figured.”

as you left the shop, you couldn’t help but think that bongo might’ve been onto something with his whole shoulder-sitting act. maybe your chaotic little furball had better instincts than you gave him credit for.

— NANAMI KENTO  ₍^. .^₎

it’s always the quiet moments when bongo chooses chaos. you were mid-face mask, your skin glowing with the kind of self-care that influencers would kill for, when your furry menace decided to bolt out the backdoor like he had urgent business. “bonggoooo!” you screeched, stumbling after him in your ratty pajamas and slippers that definitely weren’t made for running.

the scent of the bakery hit you like a brick wall. god, how does it smell expensive? buttery, sugary, and somehow elitist all at once. you didn’t have time to contemplate the metaphysics of aromas because bongo had already darted through the bakery’s back entrance like he owned the place. by the time you caught up, panting and slightly disheveled, you were greeted by the sight of nanami kento, the bakery’s perpetually composed owner, standing in the middle of his flour-dusted kitchen. and in his hands, like a prized artifact, was bongo.

kento held your cat aloft like some kind of culinary simba, his perfectly pressed apron dusted with flour. bongo, with his chubby belly and utterly unrepentant face, dangled there like he had no idea he’d just stormed into someone else’s livelihood. “this,” kento said, his deep, even voice somehow more judgmental than any glare could be, “is yours, i presume?” you swallowed hard, your face mask cracking slightly as you plastered on a smile. “yes! uh, that’s bongo. my cat. um, i’m so sorry—”

“he ran across my counter,” kento continued, his tone unchanging as he gently turned bongo to show you his flour-dusted paws. “he stepped in the dough. twice.”

“oh my god,” you groaned, wishing the floor would open up and swallow you whole. bongo, ever the villain, reached out a paw and batted at kento’s tie, smearing it with a bit of leftover flour. “i’ll… i’ll pay for the damages,” you stammered, mortified. “or, uh, write an apology letter. from bongo. he’s very articulate.”

kento raised a brow, lowering bongo but still holding him like he was a particularly troublesome baguette. “a letter?”

“yeah, uh, he’s got great penmanship,” you blurted, because apparently, when embarrassed, you just doubled down on ridiculousness. kento sighed, setting bongo down on the floor. your cat immediately started rubbing his face against kento’s leg like they were old friends. “he’s lucky he’s cute,” kento muttered, though his tone softened slightly.

“he’s really not,” you mumbled, scooping bongo into your arms. “he’s a menace.”

“i’ve noticed.” kento crossed his arms, eyeing bongo like he was calculating the exact amount of havoc the cat had wreaked. “next time, maybe keep him indoors.”

“yeah, definitely,” you said, clutching bongo tighter as he squirmed. “and, uh, if you ever need… cat-signed apology letters, i’m your person.”

kento gave you a long, measured look before sighing. “just keep him out of my kitchen.”

as you backed out of the bakery, clutching your flour-covered feline, you couldn’t help but wonder if bongo’s next target would be a crime that didn’t involve you humiliating yourself in front of absurdly attractive men. unlikely.

— TOJI FUSHIGURO ₍^. .^₎

moving to new york was supposed to be your fresh start. concrete jungle where dreams made of, blah blah blah. instead, you found yourself battling overpriced rent and a cat who had zero respect for personal boundaries.

toji, the moving guy, had been an unexpected lifesaver. with his messy scrawl of a name tag and a physique that screamed, “i bench press refrigerators for fun,” he made quick work of your moving boxes. it was almost comical how easily he hefted bongo’s cat tree—like it was a baguette instead of a glorified jungle gym for your chunky feline. you tipped him with cookies because that’s just who you are: a sucker for baked goods as a currency. and as toji waved goodbye and headed off, you gave yourself a little pat on the back for surviving the first day in the big apple. until you noticed bongo was missing.

cue the meltdown.

“bonggggoooooo!” you hollered, tearing through your barely unpacked apartment like a madwoman. every cupboard, every box, even the bathtub—it was all checked twice, thrice, and then some. no bongo. by the time you collapsed onto the floor, tears welling up, you were already planning the world’s most dramatic cat funeral. there’d be violins, speeches, and a photo slideshow of bongo’s finest “this idiot just ate plastic again” moments. then, a knock at the door.

you practically threw it open to find toji standing there, his enormous frame taking up most of the doorway. in his arms was bongo, looking about as offended as a cat could possibly look, his fur slightly ruffled but otherwise unscathed. “found him in my van,” toji said, his gravelly voice tinged with amusement. 

“oh my god,” you gasped, reaching for bongo, who—of course—refused to leave toji’s arms. “he’s such a menace, i’m so sorry—”

“don’t be,” toji interrupted, smirking as bongo nuzzled against his chest like a lovestruck teenager. “guess he’s got good taste.”

“good taste?” you repeated, incredulous. “he literally jumped into a stranger’s van. he’s one step away from being catnapped—i mean, kidnapped.”

“looks like he wouldn’t have minded,” toji quipped, scratching behind bongo’s ear and earning an annoyingly loud purr in return. you groaned, crossing your arms. “great. my cat’s in love with the moving guy.”

toji chuckled, finally setting bongo down. the traitor immediately twined around toji’s legs, shooting you a look that said this man is mine now. “guess i’m unforgettable,” toji teased, leaning against the doorframe.

“yeah, well,” you said, scooping up bongo before he could claw his way back into toji’s arms, “don’t let it go to your head.”

toji gave you a crooked grin, his scarred lip tugging slightly. “welcome to new york,” he said, turning to leave. as he walked away, bongo let out a mournful meow, his paw swiping at the air like he was starring in his own rom-com goodbye scene.

“ugh, big boys,” you muttered, carrying bongo back inside. but as you closed the door, you couldn’t help but think that maybe, just maybe, new york wasn’t going to be so bad after all.

— GOJO SATORU  ₍^. .^₎

you knew gojo had a flair for theatrics, but the day he decided to charm everything with a pulse—including bongo, the cat cast for your shared scene—you realized just how far he was willing to go. bongo, a seasoned feline actor with a resume longer than yours, had been nothing but professional. meanwhile, gojo? not so much. “who’s a handsome boy? you are, aren’t you?” gojo cooed at bongo during a break, crouched low and ruffling the cat’s fur like they were old pals.

“you know he’s supposed to like my character, right?” you deadpanned from your chair, sipping lukewarm coffee. 

“it’s called method acting, babe,” gojo replied with a wink, scratching under bongo’s chin. “gotta make sure he’s comfortable with me too.”

“yeah, by stealing my scene partner.”

gojo just grinned, letting bongo climb onto his lap like a tiny, furry king surveying his kingdom.

fast-forward to the final day of shooting, and bongo had developed what could only be described as a toxic attachment to gojo. 

“aaaand that’s a wrap!” the director called, the crew breaking into applause. you were ready to celebrate—finally free of gojo’s antics—until chaos erupted.

bongo’s trainer approached to retrieve the cat, only for bongo to hiss dramatically and latch onto gojo’s designer blazer with claws sharp enough to shred through fabric and ego alike. “uh, a little help?” gojo yelped, trying to peel the cat off without damaging what was likely a five-figure jacket. the trainer tugged at bongo gently, but the cat clung harder, his claws hooking into the seams as if his very life depended on staying attached to gojo.

“he’s tearing my clothes!” gojo screeched, his voice hitting a pitch you hadn’t thought possible.

“you’re the one who told him he’s a ‘handsome boy,’” you snarked, watching the scene unfold with far too much glee.

“he is a handsome boy! but now he’s a demon!” gojo cried, trying to shake off the cat, who let out a mournful wail and doubled down on his grip. the crew burst out laughing as bongo dramatically clung to gojo’s chest like he was recreating a tragic love scene.

“just let him go, he’s attached to you now,” you teased, crossing your arms and watching the chaos unfold.

“i can’t!” gojo wailed. “he’s got my soul in his little murder mittens!”

finally, the trainer managed to pry bongo off, leaving behind shredded fabric and a very disheveled gojo. “you owe me a new jacket,” he grumbled, glaring at you like this was somehow your fault. “i owe you nothing,” you shot back. “maybe next time, don’t flirt with cats.”

as bongo was carried off set, still yowling dramatically, you couldn’t help but think: if nothing else, that cat had impeccable taste in people to torment.

[artsarasp]

Hello! I love your art style so much! It scratches an itch idk how to explain it lol

I also wanna ask how would sy!ming fan look like in the future? Would he still look like ur older ming fan art before or would there be some changes to the hair or accessories?

AAA thank you!! This is such a fun question!

They would look very different! While I don't know how "By hook or by Crook" is gonna end, sy!mf lacks the character traits that lead to my Peak Lord Ming Fan design! Since that design is based specifically on how Prim and Tiny write Ming Fan and how his interactions with Zhao De would evolve.

Peak Lord Ming Fan is insecure about himself, especially his appearance. That leads to him overcompensating with an excessive amount of jewelry because the notion that he's dull and bleak has been drilled into his head at this point and he's doing everything to not be that. Also his only reference on how to be a Peak lord has been Shen Qingqiu!!! The og goods! With all his problems! Ming Fan is stuck with his shizun's bitch resting face for all eternity!

Also, overall, this Ming Fan needs so much more therapy.

If I had to design an older sy!mf; First off, he wouldn't be as flashy, because he's not insecure! Like, he knows he's kinda got the short end of the stick when it comes to looks in pidw, but since everyone is usually otherworldly beautiful he's actually just a normal dude! He can be pretty with enough effort and he's poser enough to put in the effort when given the chance! He can certainly act more graceful and cool than og Ming Fan could too, that gives him more charm! When he gets out the ugly duckling phase he's gonna be quite cute, Binghe is gonna be so smug about having seen it before everyone else. Now I don't know how the story will end, so lets put in two possible endings for the fun of it! Ending 1 - Binghe and Ming Fan fuck off and become rogue cultivators. Ending 2 - Binghe and Ming Fan become emperors of the realms together after going to the abyss.

Rogue cultivator Ming Fan wears more practical clothes as well as hair do! Perfect for running around and getting into trouble with Binghe! Emperor Ming Fan needs to show off a little bit! Gotta be a lil bit more of a poser when you're an emperor, so he's got fancier clothes and he lets his hair down cause it looks better! :D Also, fun detail! Notice that while the two SY!MF kept their freckles, Peak Lord Ming Fan doesn't have them. That's because PL!MF is, again, insecure. Gotta get rid of all imperfections. Meanwhile, the other two are very happy to let Binghe kiss every single freckle on their cheeks <3

[bookish-bogwitch]

Hello! Happy Wednesday!

I'm diving now into the last 3 chapters of Basil Pitch's Diary. I'm in the big-picture, planning stage of writing them. Even with Scrivener, I have a hard time visualizing the flow of a story on a computer screen, so I pulled out a notebook I hadn't used in months.

Imagine my delight on finding the notes and drafts that I apparently wrote for the March, July, and August chapters. I'd forgotten they existed. People always seem to love a process post, so here you go.

Below the cut, spoilers for BPD Ch. 9.

Good job, self, I thought. So exacting! So methodical!

Then: These remind me of something. I've seen notebooks like this somewh--

@facewithoutheart @cutestkilla @ivelovedhimthroughworse @thewholelemon @monbons

@mooncello @skeedelvee @you-remind-me-of-the-babe @moodandmist @ileadacharmedlife

@fatalfangirl @artsyunderstudy @emeryhall @raenestee @ic3que3n

@whogaveyoupermission @stitchyqueer @blackberrysummerblog @alexalexinii @gekkoinapeartree

@brilla-brilla-estrellita @shrekgogurt @scone-lover @nightimedreamersworld @stardustasincocaine

@martsonmars @onepintobean @agni-ashes @aristocratic-otter @alleycat0306

@fight-surrender @theearlgreymage @thehoneyedhufflepuff @iamamythologicalcreature @youarenevertooold

@technetiumai @roomwithanopenfire @hushed-chorus @theimpossibledemon @comesitintheclover

@goblindad-emoshit @rimeswithpurple @messofthejess��@forabeatofadrum @nausikaaa

@johnwgrey @prettygoododds @run-for-chamo-miles @best–dress @arthurkko

[thewadapan]

Maybe Nost's best story! Also his least fun. Definitely did not like reading most of it. Would recommend reading... maybe any of the others over this one?

I think with The Apocalypse of Herschel Schoen, Nost has managed to write a book which is haunted.

Stepping back a little. Herschel Schoen seems to have been conceived almost as a short story, which only happens to be as long as it is as a result of the (deliberately) belaboured and verbose prose used by all the narrators. It's much closer to The Northern Caves in this respect, which I remember as being mostly straightforward and intelligible, with only the highly-divisive ending leaving me with a dangling "??????" to grapple with. Meanwhile, with Floornight and Almost Nowhere, I often struggled to keep up with the object-level facts of what was even happening in the plot/world, and I feel like I mostly read those stories "on vibes", following them mostly in terms of their subtext.

So yeah, Herschel Schoen to me felt like it was using the "fairytale" format of being a Christmas story to streamline things as much as possible, such that both the object-level events of the story and the batshit conceptual-melting-pot subtext were more or less legible to me, despite Herschel's incredibly unreliable prose. There is a sense in which it feels like a children's story to me. It has very few characters, and those characters are extraordinarily archetypal.

So I do think Almost Nowhere retains its crown as Nost's most ambitious, most revolutionary, and most complex novel—if I say that I found Herschel Schoen "better", it's only because I feel I was able to understand it. It speaks more to my failure as a reader than anything.

In terms of my experience as a reader, it was fairly similar to that described by @recordcrash in his review. Most of the story is a fucking struggle to get through, mostly because of... the prose? The pacing? These issues are really the same issue: what few events occur in the book take ages to describe, and the fact that every recounting takes forever means that there physically isn't room to cram in more events. And as Makin Recordcrash puts it: I just don't enjoy hearing the thoughts of an unwell mind, particularly at length. All of Nost's books have it, this entirely-made-up concept which "you just wouldn't understand" but which it nevertheless will tell you about at length. There's Salby and mundum in The Northern Caves, there's Azad and the aliens in Almost Nowhere, there's whatever the metaphysics shit was in Floornight (I forgor), and this is the book that has the most of it, proportionally.

(My girlfriend bounced right off it- actually, let me use this opportunity to tell a story. When we first met, we were talking about the internet or something, and for whatever reason at one point I unironically said something like "oh yeah I read this cool novel set on a forum but you probably wouldn't have heard of it" and she just went "oh do you mean The Northern Caves?" and I briefly became convinced that she was some sort of psyop intended to oneshot me, a notion I have still not been able to shake over two years later. Point is her remark on the first two chapters of Herschel Schoen was something like "it's too Nostalgebraist for me", which I think is understandable.)

Anyway, like Makin, I struggled with most of the book, only for Chapter 21 to be so fucking good that it sort of retroactively made the rest of the book good, at least insofar as it was mostly necessary to set up such an audacious ending? Even knowing that this had been Makin's reaction, I wasn't prepared to believe it—again, usually Nost books are very much the other way around—but lo and behold, the twist is in fact very clever, very fun to read, and very aligned with my aesthetic interests.

All that said, I do feel like Makin sort of bombed through the book (by comparison, it's taken me almost two weeks to finish it), and maybe missed out on some of the more fun and interesting stuff the book is doing on a thematic level. Below, I'll try to delve into my interpretations in more detail.

I've seen a few takes from people that the main thematic throughlines of this book are a bit disconnected from one another, but to me this couldn't be further from the truth.

I identified four main themes, in descending order of prominence: "neurodivergence", "AI", "media", and "capitalism". I guess you could say "Christmas" is something of a fifth ur-theme, which dovetails into these in superficial ways:

Neurodivergence—the idea of "believing in Santa Claus" is framed as stunted development, a delusion which reveals someone to be less mature mentally than they are physically. The book is specifically concerned with contrasting dysfunctional "child" behaviour with functional "adult" behaviour, flipping these ideas on their head by having Ruth and Miriam basically lose it over the course of the story. A sister inverted. Also, the "preparations" needed to be made before Christmas morning are very much analogised with obsessive compulsions, right?

AI—like Santa Claus, something which promises to fulfil all our wishes, instantly, at the same time.

Media—particularly in terms of relations between Christianity and... secular Christmas, right? The story is very much riffing on the structure of Christmas stories specifically. To me, it feels like a world literally dreamed up based on Christmas stories. That, more than anything, is why it's set in New York, I think.

Capitalism—notions of "wanting", of meritocracy. I don't know, we all know "A Christmas Carol", I don't need to explain this one.

Like, if I had to guess at the genesis of this book, based on Nostalgebraist's comments, I feel like it's taking the starting point of "story about what if the AI doomers were right" -> "through the lens of Christmas" -> "[everything else in the story]". Of course there are tons of other influences in there, but those to me feel like the two ideas with the most explanatory power.

But even if you discount the underlying idea "Christmas", I don't think you could tell a good story about AI (in its current form) without writing about neurodivergence, media, or capitalism. If we're tasked with imagining a non-human mind, it makes sense to first imagine the most-non-human human mind, right? If we're talking about the machine's output, its facsimile of media, we have to talk about the real thing too, right? And if we're asking about the purpose of AI, what exactly it is we're trying to industrialise, what scarcity we are trying to erase, then we have to talk about capitalism as well! For me this was all perfectly obvious, I dunno.

I was pleased that I noticed many of the same things @weaselandfriends identified in his list of observations on the book. When it described the wall of doors in the living room, my mind went, "that's fucking weird!", though I didn't really think too deeply about it. The same things goes for all the anachronisms, which I think is one of the story's best gimmicks. Yes, for most of the story, they serve to create a "timeless" atmosphere, evoking all these Christmas stories at once, while simultaneously putting into doubt the reality of what Herschel and Miriam are describing.

But then, of course, with the twist, I think it's pretty hard not to read these as anything other than hallucinations conjured by the AI. And what I think is particularly brilliant is that the story at no point calls direct attention to the anachronisms as being of particular significance—you only notice them because you know enough "facts" about the real world to notice them—which naturally calls into question the elements of the story which are wholly ficticious, where there's no ground truth to compare against. Just how real are Herschel, Miriam, Ruth, anyone!? And does it even matter how real they are?

Part of the book's "magic trick", as I read it, is that both interpretations of Herschel's POV are able to coexist within the reality of the story. We can imagine that there really existed a boy perhaps called Herschel Schoen (just as we can imagine there really existed a guy called Jesus? This is silly, pretend I didn't say that) who perhaps lived in New York City and lived with some kind of delusion, perhaps regarding an Original Creation that only babies remember. Like, even this much isn't certain, perhaps Herschel is entirely hallucinated; the story is in fact preoccupied with the question of whether or not there's even any difference. Anyway, at some point, the AI apocalypse happens (I think this is one thing we can be pretty confident about), and for the AI's own purposes, Herschel is resurrected/recreated (again like Christ- disregard this aside!) in an "emended" form, where whatever changes are made mean that he is in fact right about the Original Creation and the future etc, his mind really was tampered with. The concept of "emendation" seems to me to be the biggest point in favour of the book overall believing that a substitution is not the same as the original; that the "transformation" of one shape into another does not mean it becomes the other, as its own history remains distinct (much as the "original" events of whatever happened to the "original" Herschel on the "original" Christmas Day can be said to have, in some sense, happened—and cannot, should not, be "forgotten"). But maybe these elements of the story were intended to be disparate, though, or related in some other way, and I'm just conflating them?

One of my favourite interpretations that I've seen raised in a couple of places is that Herschel's writings, with which he literally armours himself, are in fact literally protecting him against oblivion, because the AI can only learn based on the written word or recorded speech. It doesn't really matter what happens to the papers, so long as they are written at all. Herschel pours so much of himself into those papers so as to be understood, and in the end he is understood—if not by Miriam and Ruth, then by the only being he needs to be understood by: this machine. He secures his own existence, in at least some limited form, in the "Original Creation", simply through his writing. I think Herschel is the "most real" part of the story.

It's Miriam, though—the second-"most real" element—that I think makes this story haunted. It's the way she packs all those papers into a suitcase, and for the briefest of moments you can breathe a sigh of relief, that we're one step closer to understanding how this book came to be, in-universe. But immediately, it's obvious that this explains nothing, it explains less than nothing, because there are all these chapters which just don't fit, they can't be neatly contained in that suitcase. Bavitz draws direct parallels between the inexplicable frame narrative and the anachronisms, and he's absolutely right to do so. The story is often very careful about providing something which looks "quite right", at a glance, but the moment you think about it, this pit opens up under you. Something about this metatextual conceit actually makes my skin crawl.

It feels pat to say, "oh, that's because it's trying to evoke AI hallucinations". I feel like that's only part of it, because again, most of Nost's novels have this to some extent. But yeah, I think if you wanna read Herschel Schoen as a horror novel, then this is what is scary about it. Conceptually, everything with Miriam mainly recalls for me the idea of "crashes" from Almost Nowhere, which were one of the big horror elements there, the idea that the world you're walking around in is actually, imperceptibly, some kind of not-world filled with not-people. But more directly, I find myself remembering a bit from the third act of OCTO (a criminally underrated and under-discussed webnovel) where a superintelligence is trying to "resurrect" a human, and keeps putting her in increasingly-lifelike simulated "habitats" to try and create the right set of "inputs" that will make her function properly—i.e., without just like, screaming. I feel like that is what we see happen to Miriam in this book. I feel like, when the lights go out, at the end, it has nothing to do with light at all: it's more that the machine just no longer needs to simulate a world for Miriam, at all. The transmission stops. And then what becomes of her?

I think this sort of brings us to Ruth, doesn't it? A big point is made about how there's a difference between "Miriam" and "my sister, Miriam". As though in the latter, the reality of "Miriam" in the training data is watered down by all these tropes surrounding sisterhood. I mean, fuck, maybe that's where the incest stuff comes from, right? I feel like similarly, there's a reading for Ruth where the AI is first conflating these images of "a mother" with these images of "a terrorist". She acts like a fucking cartoon character for much of the book, as many of the less-well-drawn characters do, and I think that's entirely deliberate. As she draws more on the "terrorist" tropes, she stops being a "mother". And again I think this is what Nostalgebraist has always done so fucking well, in that the bullshit sci-fi allegory stuff can also just be read on an entirely character-driven level: here is a resentful, neglectful, ultimately abusive mother, here's the emotional reality of that, heightened and communicated.

I think this provides a vague stab at an explanation for the beating scene that Bavitz found so confusing. It's like the AI draws on this trope of like... the mother, in the kitchen, with the frying pan. It puts the pan in her hand. But it's not actually a frying pan, it's just the image of a frying pan. In reality, did Herschel's mother beat him? How did she beat him? Hell, maybe she didn't, maybe the AI just got so caught up in playing out the trope of the abusive parent that is gets to the point of this beating, and then just dream-logics itself to the next thing in its training data, where of course the beating never happened. I don't like that, it feels like we're gaslighting the kids here (which I think is very much the allegory intended) by saying it was just a hallucination. I think something like it happened in reality, and cannot, should not, be "forgotten". But I think the book does want you to think that its depiction does, in some way, break from reality. Hell, in much the same way that child abuse might be said to break the reality of family? Nah, that's too pat, isn't it?

I guess what I'm trying to get at here is that, ironically, I found the novel was at its best, and at its most human, when it was writing frankly about the experience of mental illness, about family, about institutions, about childhood. So what's maybe frustrating is that I'm not actually convinced Nost is capable of writing a... shall we call it a "normal" story about those things? A story with no metatextual bullshit, no sci-fi conceit, but a realist story. There are parts of all his books, where I really think that the explanation for why they are the way they are is that they are "bad on purpose", and all the bullshit is a way of turning these shortcomings into strengths. The self-effacing voice which whispers that the characters aren't sufficiently well-drawn, are too cartoonish—well, what if that was the point? What if there was a reason for that, in the story?

But honestly, I wouldn't have it any other way. Straightup, if these were normal stories set in reality, I wouldn't be fucking reading them. This is a web author who's trained himself on a bunch of classic lit, and a bunch of anime or whatever, and has smooshed those influences together and rocket-fuelled the result. It's inimitable. I deeply admire just how experimental Nostalgebraist's writing is. No-one else is doing it like him.

Anyway, what else. Herschel gets described as having a "shell" at various points, and Frederick's surname is "Eggert". Is that anything?

The Apocalypse of Herschel Schoen

My fourth novel, The Apocalypse of Herschel Schoen, is now available in full.

Merry Christmas to all, and to all a good night!

[adamsrcnan]

honestly i think it's a little redundant to write any think pieces on what jean's endgame ship will be. it's going to be jerejean whether you like it or not. that's the story nora is writing. she said it herself when she announced it. this story is a love story but it's also a story about jean and his journey to recovery (and just because jeremy is the future love interest that doesn't diminish the importance kevin has on jean's life either. jean's feelings for kevin are very much still there but so is the betrayal and hurt of him leaving him in the nest. it's a very convoluted relationship of which we still don't know much about. only what jean has told us, so far. as the man who believes his feelings have not been reciprocated to the same degree, mind you. like, we still have two more books to go, one with more scenes with kevin in them where we will learn more.).

as for jeremy...lmao. have we not been talking about how little we know of him since the book dropped? and now all of a sudden people are claiming to know everything about him and decided he's no good? based on one book? and for some reason because he isn't handling his new traumatised teammate perfectly like a professional with a psychology degree he's somehow not right for jean? since when has anyone in this universe been perfect? or dealt with trauma professionally and perfectly?

do i think it's right that jeremy crossed some boundaries to get some answers about jean's past? no. do i think it's right that he overshared jean's truths to his friends without his permission? fuck no. but we're dealing with a whole different group of people here, most of which have not been traumatised to the level the foxes had been. who are not used to dealing with people like jean. jeremy has his own issues yet to be revealed, he clearly has problems standing up to his family (as seen with his sister), though he has no issue captaining his team (as seen with lucas) and it's suspect that he also doesn't think himself to be as great of a person as everyone else does given the sad look on his face when jean tells him he could never be anyone's villain. so idk why anyone thinks they know anything about him when he's so cagey in his own pov. and nowhere in that, may i add, has he ever implied he wants to "fix" jean. he wants to help him. he wants to give him reasons to enjoy his life now that he can i.e making him take that silly ceramics class for Fun. and given jean has had his whole life centred around exy (which he doesn't even enjoy anymore) i think it's actually very smart and helpful to get him doing things that "don't matter" so that he can learn from it and learn that he can actually live outside exy. that he can make mistakes and be imperfect at something and that's Okay.

at this moment in time in canon, kevin doesn't have that kind of mindset and it's probably because he was allowed the freedom to already pursue an interest outside of exy - his love of history. like are we missing the detail that he begged tetsuji to let him take that as his major and he actually allowed it? kevin, though still has a long way to go, still has something outside of exy he can hold onto and switch off from. jean doesn't have that and jeremy just so happens to come along and give him the option and for some reason that seems to get ignored. i think it's actually one of the most important things about their relationship so far. jeremy still makes all the accommodations jean needs - setting him up with class partners, taking him for a run when he needs to get out of his head, buying a bed to sleep in the room with him. but he also pushes back and insists jean try something to break him out of his unhealthy relationship with exy.

also, hello, jean literally admits to himself it's a Lie when he tells jeremy he doesn't want him to look if it's too much for him to deal with when jean is attacked by grayson. and jeremy refuses to look away. something everyone around jean has done since he was born, probably.

"Jeremy’s response was low but unhesitating: “I will not look away.” “I do not want you to look.” It frightened him how much it sounded like a lie, but he didn’t have time to dwell on it..."

jean appreciates when jeremy is so very obviously attracted to jean and openly staring, but doesn't press and removes himself from the situation if he thinks he may come on too strong.

"Threat assessment, he told himself, and it was almost the truth. He needed to see the easy way Jeremy ceded Jean’s space to him. Jean couldn’t remember the last time someone allowed him any boundaries, and the feeling was as novel as it was addicting."

hello???? that is literally jean himself telling us jeremy just allowed him a boundary. how does that get looked over?

also he's content enough with jeremy in his space that he feels safe enough to almost drift off

"In the quiet he could hear Jeremy breathing, and it was almost as comforting as the heat of another body this close to his. It thawed the parts of him the sun hadn’t reached despite soaking up its glare all day. Jean closed his eyes and let his thoughts drift far away. [...] This was the first time his room truly felt safe and right, and he was content to hold onto it for as long as he could."

mind you right after this jeremy presses that jean should have his own space and jean insists jeremy share with him and get his own bed. and let's not forget the obvious flirting that has jeremy immediately backtracking and telling jean to let him know if he ever makes him uncomfortable.

ALSO THIS

“Stop asking,” Jean said. “You only think you want these answers.”

jean may find it annoying and unfavourable that jeremy keeps pressing but idk i infer this to be more of jean not knowing how to handle someone actually giving a fuck about what was done to him when he was so used to everyone turning a blind eye.

finally (bc this is getting long) jeremy pushes himself into jean's space when he hugs him, and jean doesn't hug him back but he doesn't push him away either and jeremy is the one who has to wait for jean to let go of his shirt so he can move away.

"Jeremy heard the dismissal in it, but he waited for Jean to let go of his shirt before leaving the room."

i have made a post about this before but jean craves attention and affection, he wants to be loved and to be frank he fucking deserves it more than anyone else does.

i'll finish the post with one last line from jeremy's pov...

"...it wasn't his place to interfere with Jean's trauma or his healing."

jeremy isn't perfect, he's not meant to be.

[wolfpants]

erised tidings

Unfortunately I had to drop out of @hd-erised this year due to being flakier than a 99p* cone, but that didn't cut short my Erised journey because I had the pleasure of betaing 3 absolutely stellar fics that I want to scream about from the rooftops. Listed in alphabetical order, because each is as excellent as the next and they all hold a very special place in my cold heart.

Thank you so much to my lovely pals who let me feel like I was taking part in the fest even when I wasn't. I'm very lucky indeed. 🖤

In a Year's Turning by @hoko-onchi-writes is not only a gorgeous rekindled-romance by way of delicately mending the tears in a relationship so romantic, so beautifully feelsy and tender (and hot, my god is it hot), but at its heart it's an emotional and important exploration of parenthood and family and what it feels like to watch your child grow up as the magical, wonderous but also at times unsympathetic and cruel world moves too quickly around them and you. I got so choked up reading this for Hoko, so many times. A beauty of a fic. The Melting Point of Wax by @oknowkiss is a riot of originality and sexiness and holy popes racing around the Vatican on broomsticks? Honestly sometimes I just want to crawl right into Elaine's big, wonderful mind and have a poke around in there, their ideas are like nothing I've ever seen cooked up anywhere else, and what's more, they're always translated so sharply; Elaine's writing is full of life and wit, and at the centre there's always the tender heart I so crave when it comes to Drarry, just thrumming and constant and waiting to be uncovered fully. Really fucking great, this one. The Pain From an Old Wound by @citrusses had me gasping for more every time Lor updated the doc. This is a grown-up, swoon-worthy, gothic-tinged romance weaved with clever magic theory, outstanding dialogue, and a romantic Drarry history (and reunion) that feels absolutely lived-in and achy but also really fun as we get to see the two exes snark back and forth (jealousy. my. beloved.) as they come together to work through Harry's crisis. Gorgeously rendered, elegant prose.

I can't wait to dig into the fics I've not gotten around to reading yet. This year's fest has been an absolute banger!

*they're actually like £5 or something now... inflation... economy...

[shineon3]

hiii!!!

maxiel + body swap (32) for the writing game?

(maybe make it a little bit horny 😈 if you want to)

From here. Hiiii! Thank you for the prompt it was super fun to write ^^

Daniel wakes up, disoriented and horribly, horribly sweaty, body tangled in the bedsheets and his heart beating so hard you’d think it was trying to escape his ribcage somehow. He gets up, intending to get some water for his dry throat, and looks down to be met with thick, pale, tattoo-less thighs.

He barely bites back a scream, scrambling up to turn on the light and make his way to the bathroom, muttering under his breath.

“Please be a dream, please be a dream, please be a dream-”

Max’s panicked face stares back at him in the bathroom mirror, blue eyes wide and hair disheveled. Daniel pinches the bridge of his nose - Max’s nose, his brain supplies unhelpfully - and weighs his options. Max was probably stuck in his body right now. God this was such a mess. He walks back to the bedroom, putting on some clothes, and tries to not touch himself any more than necessary. He didn’t need to make the situation any weirder than it is. He picks up Max’s phone, which thankfully opens up with face id, and shoots a text to himself, hoping the dutchman was awake. 

He groans when he doesn’t get any reply after ten, agonizingly long minutes, and decides to go back to his place, where Max surely is. Daniel is fucking glad he thought to give him spare keys, at least. 

_ _ _ 

Max wakes up with a gasp, dream still vivid in his mind. He whines, the sound too loud in the quiet, empty bedroom, and presses a hand against his cock, hips thrusting lightly. He doesn’t remember going to bed naked, but he’s not gonna question it, not when his hard cock begs for attention. He wraps his hand around it, hissing slightly, and he’s just about to look for the bottle of lube that’s somewhere in the drawer of his bedside table when it hits him. 

His dick is big. Like, big big.

It’s longer, thicker, leaking a bit against his stomach and bobbing under its own weight, and it’s also uncut.

Either this is all a dream or… Or Max had swapped bodies with someone and was about to jack them off… 

Both options kind of freaks him out, and he decides to get out of bed and check it out. And, hopefully, he’ll wake up before he gets there. 

No such luck. 

The moment the lights turn on, he catches the beautiful rose inked on his left hand and he knows.

He’s in Daniel’s body.

Guilt churns in his gut, laced with shame and just a bit of heat, and his traitorous cock - Daniel’s cock, he thinks, sending a shiver down his spine - throbs, precum beading at the tip. He closes his eyes, whining, unsure of what to do, until Daniel’s phone pings. The password is still the same as it was when Max first learned about it, and he unlocks the phone to find a text from himself. 

‘Mate, I think we swapped bodies, wtf’

Max doesn’t reply. He’s sure Daniel is already on his way, and he doesn’t think the older will appreciate seeing him like this, disheveled and his boner out. He takes his cock, Daniel’s cock, in hand, carefully pumping up and down. He’ll just have to take care of it before the brunette comes here and- and what, exactly…? There’s never been any actual method to reverse swapping. It usually consisted in waiting it out, but surely Daniel was too busy to do so. He probably didn’t want to be stuck in Max’s body for days. 

Max groans, tightening the grip on his cock, using the precum to smooth out the movements of his hand. His brain drifts, and he wonders, heat building up in his core. What would Daniel do, if he just walked in right now, if he found Max touching himself like this, shamelessly spread on the bed and moaning loudly?

He doesn’t let himself think about it, at first, too ashamed, but then he slowly gives in, too curious to shut down that train of thoughts. 

Would Daniel be weirded out? Or would he find it hot?

Maybe he’d strip, climb into the bed and kiss him, show Max how he liked to be touched, what made him come? Or maybe he’d just sit and guide Max with his smooth, sultry voice, tell him what to do and call him a good boy? Max shudders, the orgasm washing over him like a merciless wave, all his nerves lighting up in pleasure. He pants, shaking from the aftershocks, chest heaving, his sticky hand smearing cum all over his abs. 

And then he sees it. 

Daniel, in Max’s own body, standing by the bedroom door, eyes so wide the black of the pupil swallowed the blue of his iris away. He’s panting softly, cheeks tinged pink, and Max doesn’t have the strength to move a finger, let alone sit up or try to hide. 

“Fuck, Maxy-” The older groans, winded, and just the sound of it sends little sparks of pleasures all through him. “Fuck, that was so fucking hot, oh my god-” 

Daniel doesn’t give him time to reply and crosses the room at the speed of light, pulling Max up for a kiss. It’s weird, for their first kiss to be happening while they’re body swapped, for sure, but Max doesn’t give a shit, fists Daniel’s shirt and pulls him closer. The kiss is messy, all tongues and teeth, and it’s wet, but neither of them cares. Max pulls away after a while, breathless. He’s about to ask Daniel what the plan is when the older strips out of his clothes and pushes him back into the mattress, and honestly? 

He’s more than okay with it.

[hoesheez]

All I Ever Wanted…

Bang Chan/AFAB!Reader

WARNINGS: language and unprotected sex

A/N: I’ll have you all know that @gyoobies and I have had this cooking for a while and yes we definitely did write about our biases and YES I DID WRITE CHAN CONFESS HIS LOVE TO THE READER OMFG IM SIIIIICK! 🤢 sigh anyways…

MINORS DO NOT INTERACT!

"If you're fine with the world knowing you're lonely, then I guess it's not embarrassing for you." you repeated what Changbins girlfriend said in a mocking tone as you watched her and the muscular man walk ahead of you and Chan, “The fucking nerve.” you made sure to speak loud enough for her to know she wasn’t wanted here

Chan laughed out loud , “Come on babe be nice, no need to stoop to her level, yeah?” he said and took your hand. If it weren’t for him and your best friend, you wouldn’t even be here.

You hated camping, the thought of it alone made you upset. Just why would anyone choose to sleep on the ground and suffer in the cold? But chan enjoyed it, and you’d do anything to spend as much time with him as you could. You pulled him close, “Fine, but i want her to know i don’t like her.”

Once you arrived at the lake, the aussies immediately took off their shirts and ran off of the dock into the water. There were two loud splashes and cheering while the others put down their stuff and followed.

Changbin just sat next to his girlfriend at the edge of the dock. You looked down at Chan with your arms crossed over your chest, “How’s the water?” you asked sarcastically, seeing his bottom lip quiver from the cold. “F-f-f-fine,” he huffed out and Felix laughed hard at him.

“You coming in?” he asked as he swam towards you. You shook your head no, “Not yet,” your face contorted in discontent, “maybe when no ones looking.” you explained and he frowned. You were a bit uncomfortable in your swimsuit, even though he already told you how great you looked, he didnt pry and just nodded and floated on his back, “No worries love.”

After a bit, the other boys got in, and eventually, you and Changbin’s girlfriend were the only ones left on the dock. You rolled your eyes, scoffing at the thought of her trying to make small talk. The thought brought you to your feet, “Babe, I’m coming in,” you announced, causing the other boys to almost immediately dart their eyes over to where you were disrobing.

You rid yourself of the shirt and shorts you wore and heard Chan whisper a “Damn,” under his breath. You couldnt help but smile, “ONE SIDE!” you screamed at him before jumping in. The water was freezing cold and as soon as you emerged at the surface, Chan was there smiling and laughing that goofy laugh he did whenever you did anything slightly out of character.

“You look so good, come here.” he brought you in for a kiss and you instinctively wrapped your arms around his neck. His kisses were so soft and reassuring, making you instantly feel like the luckiest person in the world.

You all fooled around in the water and Changbin even dragged his girl into the water much to her protest and you couldn’t help but giggle devilishly when she yelled out that her phone was still in her pocket. You all headed back and upon arriving back at the campsite, you saw your friend and Minho dangerously close.

“We’re back!” Chan exclaimed loudly and you watched the two of them distance themselves from one another and look busy. Later, the two of you went and gathered food from the tent and had a chat about how she should be more open and give Minho a chance.

You mentioned just how hot he was and that even if it wasn’t something serious, she could at least have some fun while here. After dinner, the rain started and with one more word of encouragement to your friend, you and Chan hurried into your tent.

“I’d say things are going according to plan,” he said with a wide smile, “What do you think?” You sighed, placing a hand at your hip looking at him with an incredulous look, “I think that bringing broken tents wasnt actually part of the plan, more like you just didnt check them like you should have.” He waved a hand and shook his head, “Yeah yeah, all part of the plan.” He adjusted the pillows and extended a hand to you once you were done zipping up the tent.

“Either way, they’ll thank me later.” You took his hand gently and moved to cuddle next to him in the extra large sleeping bag. “At least something good will come out of this,” you sighed, “I can’t wait to get home.”

He looked at you with sad eyes, wondering if you weren’t having a good time at all. “Yeah, I know you hate camping, and that it’s raining, oh and Bin’s girl is a nuisance but-“ you cut him off with a kiss, wrapping your arms around his neck, ruffling his curly hair with your fingers. “All of it’s ok if I get to be with you,” you spoke against his lips, “ I’m having a good time, regardless okay?”

Chan kissed you and brought you into a tight embrace, “Good, I’m glad.” he said and the two of you fell asleep in each other’s arms.

You awoke from your nap after about half an hour, being greeted by your boyfriend’s adorable face. His curly brown hair framed his face and you couldn’t help but give him a peck on the cheek. You quietly got your phone and took a picture of him, but as soon as the shutter went off he woke up.

“You taking pictures of me while in sleeping? Creep.” he joked and you pinched his cheek. “You looked really cute okay?” you said and turned so that he was spooning you now, his strong arms wrapping around your waist.

He nuzzled his face in your neck and inhaled, and upon exhaling, he said somethjng ypu didn’t think youd ever really hear from him. “I love you.” You lay in shock, your mind trying to process what you just heard.

“You what?” you turned to him, his sleepy eyes opening, “I love you,” you stared at him, knowing in that exact moment what you needed to say. “I love you too, Chris.”

He closed the gap between the two of you and kissed you, leaning up to cage you in his arms, “I mean it, I love you.” you pulled him close his body still over you while you kissed.

You soon pulled away with a huff and swollen lips, your breath hitched as you stared into his eyes, “You’re not allowed to take it back” he chuckled hard and just kissed you back. You tugged at the top of his shirt and he pulled it over his head. “I won’t ever take it back, come here.”

He said and you moved towards him, taking off your top along the way, the light from the lantern illuminating your sillouettes on the tent wall. Your arms wrapped around his neck and you clawed at his back, “Been dying to get you alone all day,” he whispered in your ear, “seeing you in that swimsuit,”

He lay you back down and began kissing a trail down your body, “You looked so pretty babe.” he kissed down your belly, swirling his tongue on your supple skin. He grabbed the hem of your shorts and pulled them down your legs, and you eagerly squirmed out of them.

His hand came between your legs, touching you through your underwear before moving them to the side and touching your bare skin. He grunted in your ear, moving in to kiss your neck. “Chan,” you whispered, “don’t tease me,” your voice serious and he simply moved down your body, slotting his head between your legs after finally removing your underwear.

You tangled your fingers into his soft hair as he moved his tongue along you, licking up your slick greedily. Your whimpers dripped from your lips over and over as his tongue swirled, and his mouth sucked on your clit.

You hated how good he was at this and whispered an “Asshole,” before moaning loudly.He just buried his face into you further, using his tongue to fuck you with a piston like speed, “Chris, please,” you begged and he just chuckled against you looking up at you and not relenting in his fervor.

“Fuck!” you cursed, as he then inserted two fingers into you, his tongue on your clit working to bring you to climax. You tugged at his hair, he took the hint and came up to kiss you, his fingers curving to find your spot effortlessly.

Your body greedily moved on top of him, taking his fingers and putting them in you mouth, grinding against his bulge, “Alright babe, I get it, fuck!” he laughed and pulled his cock out of his shorts with his free hand.

“Thank fuck!” you whined with a relieved tone against his thick fingers in your mouth and moved to hover over him. “Hold on,” he said and took his fingers from your mouth. As you sink on top of him, you think he’s going to grab your ass but no, he takes his phone and starts typing.

You refrain from letting out a moan and glare at him, “Really? while you’re inside of me?” you watch as the light from the phone illuminates his face. “Sorry, I just wanted to tell minho something- ah!”

He yelps as you clench down on him, bringjng him from his task and his attention back on you, “I won’t ever do that again Y/n- shit!” he yelps out again and pulls you down, his strong arms enbracing you. “Don’t stop,” he whispers against your lips.

The two of you find a rhythm with you on top, his hips eagerly meeting yours with a slap. Your hands rested on his abs as you bounced on him, squeezing him inside while your breasts bounced. You saw him take his bottom lip between his teeth, “Fuck babe,” his voice soft and needy causing you to lean down and downright ride him like a stallion while he sucked on your nipples.

“Chris, ah I’m close!” your voice cracked as his thrusts quickened. He pulled you back down to lay on your side, bringing your leg over his body, “Come for me, yeah?” he asked as he gripped onto you hard, his nails dighing in as you buried your face in his neck. You bit down on his skin as you were sent over the edge, body shaking while your orgasm wrecked you.

His last few thrusts brought him into his climax right after you and he moaned heavenly praises in your ear. “So fucking good babe, so tight,” he kissed your lips, sloppily. You shook as he shot his seed into you, “Wait, chan we forgot the condom again, for fuck’s sake!” you realized with a yelp and he just laughed?

“Well if you weren’t SO needy for me all the time.” he said before he sucked marks into your neck. “Shut up!” you giggled and brought him in for a kiss. “Mmm, say it again.” you whispered. “I love you,” his words sent you into a giggling fit, “Hehehehe, I love you too.”

The two of you cuddled, basking in the afterglow and after a while, he called Minho, “Well how’s it going?” he asked and the two of you just heard your friend take the phone and let Chan know just how well it was going.

“Oh fuck! Right there! Bye!”

Your friend huffed out before hanging up, Chan’s face was turning red and he just let out a quiet, “Oh my gosh.” You shouted out with a clap loud enough for the whole camp to hear, happy that your two closest friends finally got together after so long.

A/N: HELL YEAH IM DOWN BAD STFU!! i hate that he makes me soft and that he probably gives lots of praise and that he’s probably really good at oral and-

link to the original fic that inspired this here! 🤭 from the besties pov ❤️ thanks for letting me add some shameless chan smut @gyoobies haha 🙄

[lady-loveluck]

Why is like, the controversial/weird part of the fandom plagued by "fun police"?

I don't think this fandom is toxic, far from it! Loveliest experience I've had actually! Yet every fandom has that troubling side, and what has caught my eye is that the troubling side in this fandom is not ship wars, is not people being weird.

Is just... fun police?

"People should stop writing michie that way, is toxic", "if you enjoy Sam sweetly I don't trust you", "you have to write this ship this exact way otherwise you're a bad person for liking it". Where's the headcanon love? The fan creation whimsy?

How can you be so boring to literally throw shade at headcanons or different interpretations? Imagine having to follow 56754986 rules you set yourself to be able to enjoy some fictional fan media. I find it so weird, specially in the Hatchetfield fandom because most characters there are fucking assholes.

I know I'm not usually bringing this stuff in my blog, but yesterday and today I read some things and I just wanted to throw something there.

[damianwaynephd]

i actually wanna write out my headcanons for all of the batfam’s drugs of choice so here

bruce is an old school functioning alcoholic . i think it was normalized for him growing up at galas/gotham academy and on top of that he naturally has a pretty high tolerance.. he’s sober on-and-off until jason dies and then he spirals p bad . doesn’t really deal with his underlying issues until .. dealer’s choice either when tim becomes robin or post jason resurrection. i think if he can’t/doesn’t get sober until jay comes back it adds to tim’s inferiority complex bc he’s like “well b never got sober for me 😐”

i’ve said it before and i’ll say it again: cokehead dick grayson ❤️ BUT this fic is so fucking good that it made me see him getting into downers as a real possibility (extra points if he does them with roy). i think he doesn’t get into hard drugs until college either way and it’s part of his rebellion against bruce, but its also just bc he’s a fun guy and likes to have a good time! i don’t see it becoming A Problem until [insert Big Nightwing Trauma here] and even then i think he manages to quit without Too Much trouble (i.e he doesn’t have to go to rehab) basically bc i don’t think he at heart has an addictive personality

i don’t rly think jason would do drugs like. ever BUUUUUUT if he did become dependent on anything i think it would be alcohol. i hc willis and bruce are/were both alcoholics so ~generational trauma~ and i think he can delude himself into being like “it’s not drugs so it’s fine.” he would enjoy the buffer it gives him to everyday life/crimefighting. same w cigs! when he decides to quit everyone encourages him to go to rehab but he thinks it would be too triggering for him + he has a weird complex where he’s like “i’m strong enough to climb out of the bottle myself motherfucker” so he tries to do it on his own which … whether or not that works is. a toss-up. either way i think he’d find AA really helpfully for his own addiction + dealing w his childhood trauma

tim is one hundo percent an uppers guy. i lowkey hate when fics give him outright caffeine addiction but then don’t deal with it at all lollll. but yeah i think he’d be ur typical adderall snorter (“snorting it doesn’t make me a junkie it’s just the most efficient delivery method to the central nervous system. it’s science”) and he’d really only get into pills bc as long as it’s prescription it’s not illicit in his mind.. so he’d prob use addy in combination w xans or other benzos to come down/get to sleep when he needed to. he absolutely has to do the whole rehab stint (maybe multiple) to unlearn his preconceptions about addiction/addicts and his deep rooted belief that he only has worth when he’s productive lol.

damian is straightedge like this kid will not take tylenol. he doesn’t drink caffeine either and gets like really into herbal tea and supplements when he’s older

[crime-scene-psychic]

I honestly think that the Nolan Batman trilogy was the best and worst thing to happen to the Batman franchise, because on one hand, it was the first live-action instance of trying to make Batman more gritty and serious (because while the Keaton, Kilmer, Clooney movies took the story much more seriously than the 60s television show, they were still goofy at times, which is why I honestly think they're the best rendition of Batman, because they were able to balance silliness with seriousness, which is what Batman is all about, but that's obviously an entirely different thesis) which then allowed for more people to take comic book movies serious, consequently leading to the rise of the DCEU and, obviously, the MCU (we would not have the MCU today and the actual good movies that came out of it without Nolan's trilogy, there's simply no argument there).

However, the Nolan trilogy also unfortunately made "dark, gritty Batman" the norm, meaning that once anyone tries to actually have some fun with Batman, they immediately get shit on by comic book dude bros. It also created the most annoying characterization of the Joker that everyone has been trying to replicate since and no one will be able to replicate, because they simply do not understand the character (I honest to God think the closest live-action actor who has ever made a Joker character work besider Heath Ledger was Cameron Monaghan in the Gotham television show, and he wasn't even really Joker??? but at least he didn't make it everyone else's problem and was a good mix of goofy and psychotic, not just psychotic) and will never be Heath Ledger (but they don't stop trying much to my forever annoyment).

And while I can recognize the cultural and significant impact on the comic and film community that Nolan's trilogy had, it is still by far my least favorite adaptation because of how serious it takes itself (and of course, the racism. The racism is actually the bigger one for me. Fuck Christopher Nolan for that. Ra's al Ghul is NOT a white man just because you want a plot twist, and you CANNOT just erase Bane being mixed race because you fucking FEEL LIKE IT because him being mixed race is extremely relevant to his origin). Batman has had serious moments in the comics, don't get me wrong, and I know things must evolve and change over time and that I cannot expect an 80 year old character to not be further developed throughout the decades, but it almost feels as if Nolan and Goyer (the writer) read a Sparks Notes version of the history of Batman, cracked their knuckles, and said "yeah, I think I got it."

Spoiler alert: they did not get it.

When I watch the Nolan trilogy (which I haven't in quite some time and I really don't want to, even to prove a point to people on the Internet) I notice how uninspired it feels, story-wise. While the action and cinematography is excellent, the story is lacking for me, and when you're telling a story like Batman, that has decades of content, you cannot just forgo storytelling for cool special effects.

I'd much rather watch a Batman adaptation that has the shittiest effects known to man with a writer who whole-heartily cares for the characters they're writing and has taken time to research. And that's honestly one of the biggest problems the comic book film industry is having now, both DC and Marvel. They're not hiring people who actually care about these characters to write them and they're focusing much more at appealing to everyone they can instead of who the movies should be made for: fans.

You're gonna have such a harder time convincing my mom, a woman who only cares about Wonder Woman, to watch the new Captain America film than you would someone who has read the Sam Wilson Cap comic run. And while this entire issue stems from the fact that the film industry is just that, an industry, and has become less about filmmakers making art and more-so how much money investors and producers can get out of ticket sales, it is still infuriating to see franchises you care deeply about be ruined by guys just there to cash their paychecks and be done with it.

And really, the film industry as we know it needs to be fucking demolished from the inside out, but that will never happen and now we're a bit off-topic. So, back to Batman.

I think another issue I have with newer live-action Batman adaptations is that they choose to forgo a VERY IMPORTANT character when it comes to Batman/Bruce Wayne's evolution as a character and story line.

Robin.

Since whatever the fuck the casting of Chris O'Donnell in 1995 was (why was he, like, a grown man?), people have been afraid to touch a live-action Dick Grayson with a six-foot pole (besides Titans, which I'm gonna get to in a sec). Which is ridiculous, because he is, like I said, an insanely important character when it comes to showing the growth Bruce Wayne goes through.

Bruce Wayne becomes Batman because he is so angry about his parent's deaths and the corruption of Gotham that he doesn't know what else to do. All the money in the world cannot change things for the better, his own father tried and died for his troubles, and he is left with no other option. Bruce Wayne works during the day to fight corruption via charity and his company, Batman works during the night and is able to do what Bruce Wayne can't (beating the shit out of people, mainly). The two are separate sides of the same coin.

And despite this seeming like a good arrangement, it's pretty obvious in most adaptations (at least they get THAT right) that beating the shit out of people in back alleys is not a good replacement for therapy. You're able to see the toll being Batman has on Bruce. He quickly becomes more occupied with being a vigilante than being himself. Bruce needs something to break through this internal struggle and help him balance both lives.

And so a boy named Dick Grayson comes along.

Dick's so important (and so are the other Robins, of course, but Dick being the first means I have to talk about him a bit more) because he forced Bruce to get his shit together. Here's a boy who's about the same age Bruce was when his parents died, who also just saw his parents killed in front of him, and is so full of rage he has no idea what to do. Sounds familiar...

Bruce is able to help himself by helping Dick. He gives him an outlet to vent his anger and frustrations while also looking out for him in the best way he can. While there are many issues with how Robin comes to be in various comic runs (and if this was real life it would be fucking ridiculous) Dick becoming Robin is extremely important. If he hadn't been taken in by Bruce Wayne, if he'd been allowed to let that anger continue to bubble up inside of him, he probably would have killed Tony Zucco and that would have been enough to set Dick down a terrible path he might not recover from.

The same goes for Bruce. If he were to set out and kill the person who shot his parents, he wouldn't be a hero anymore because that single event would shatter the entire point of Batman, which is that he is not meant to decide who lives and dies. If he were, how would he be any different than all the villains in Gotham that he fights as Batman? How would he be better than the corrupt businessman and politicians that he has to battle as Bruce Wayne? He wouldn't.

Batman needs Robin and Robin needs Batman, because they are yin and yang. Light within darkness, darkness within light. You cannot separate these characters and still tell an accurate story, it's impossible. I think that's a huge issue Nolan's movies have, on top of many others. You cannot accurately present to me a Batman story if there is no Robin, just as you couldn't give me a Robin story without Batman.

Every Robin is so important to how Bruce Wayne as a character is developed, and disregarding this as a creator is not only disrespectful to the character, it misses the entire point. I refuse to take your adaptation of Batman seriously if you can't figure out how important Robin is. He isn't just some kid sidekick, he isn't an optional side character, he is what makes Batman human. You cannot have gritty, Neo-noir Batman and forgo Robin just because you see him as the sidekick in tights. When Batman was silly and took itself less seriously, sure, there wasn't a lot to Robin nor Batman's troubling pasts. But now that you want to deep dive into Bruce Wayne's psyche and pick apart what makes him the way he is you wanna throw in the towel and erase the part that humanizes him? Fuck. You.

You can't make a complex Bruce Wayne and take away parts that help audiences understand his complexities, that's fucking STUPID!

Titans, for all its faults and problems, will always have my gratitude as it had the fucking balls to give, without a doubt, the best and most rounded live-action adaptation of Dick Grayson we have ever seen. Titans introduces Dick at a very important and rocky time in his character arch: him leaving Bruce.

If you're not in the know, there's a falling out between Bruce and Dick that's been written a couple different ways over the years, but all comes down to Dick being "fired" from being Robin and leaving Gotham. This is a bit of a newer story line in comparison to how long the character of Dick Grayson has been around, and eventually leads to Dick becoming independent from Bruce, signalling his evolution from "side kick" to his own hero, Nightwing. However, there's issues with Dick having to give up the Robin mantel, because it's something that is whole-heartily Dick Grayson. Robin wasn't something Bruce Wayne came up with, it was the nickname his parents gave to him. Even the colors are his, those were the colors of the Flying Graysons' uniforms. Robin is much more than just a vigilante alter-ego to Dick, it is the last link he has to his past and his parents. So when this is taken away from him and given to another, this causes a huge internal struggle for Dick, as he has to deal with the anger he now has for Bruce, a man he originally looked up to and idolized. This is Dick seeing how wrong it was for Bruce to do some of the things he did to Dick, despite at the time those choices being what both needed.

The way Titans is able to portray this extremely delicate time in Dick's story line in a way that not only makes sense for his character, but also allows for growth is really admirable. Like I said, the show isn't perfect by any means (can I PLEASE get a Romani actor to play Dick PLEASE) but it's the first time I feel that the character is wholeheartedly taken serious in a live-action setting. You can tell the writers have a better idea about how the characters should interact in a live-action setting and while some choices are questionable to me, the heart is there.

Nolan's movies in comparison feel soulless and devoid of all creativity and love. He does not care about these characters, no matter how much he tries to make you think that, and he never will. Christopher Nolan, you will NEVER convince me that you give two shits about Bruce Wayne. And if you, the director, can't bother to care, why should the audience? Why should I care about your adaptation if you can't even be bothered to put an ounce of individuality into it?

With Matt Reeves' Batman films underway, things are getting worse again. For a while, we only had to deal with the shitty Joker adaptations that tried to replicate Ledger's Joker, but with the Reeves Batman movies, the film bros are making themselves known again. I remember when the new design for the Riddler dropped and I said it was shit and people on Twitter and YouTube got SO PISSY at me and told me I just don't understand Batman and that I'm childish for enjoying the designs for Gotham Riddler/ Batman Forever Riddler and whatever and that I'm stupid, which none of those things are true, I hate to be confident in anything, but I think I know more about Batman than you do, Twitter troll.

The suit sucked and the character sucked. They just created a new character but gave him the Riddler's name. That's NOT the Riddler. That's honestly closer to Hush than Riddler, so just... do that? But of course, less people know about Hush than Riddler, and you're not trying to make a film for fans, you're trying to make money, so why would you ever be so silly as to do that! I'm not gonna talk to much about the new Riddler, just because it's super old news and it's not the point I was trying to make here, it's just something that continues to piss me off when it comes to gritty recreations of characters, because Riddler really never was supposed to be some Zodiac Killer wannabe, he's supposed to be a guy who leaves you riddles and makes you solve them and he's supposed to be a little silly about it. And I'm not saying you can't do a more gritty Riddler, because Arkham Knights did it super well imo! Just don't reinvent the wheel! Don't just make a new character and call him by another's name, that's a disservice to the character themselves and their creators.

This is a hard topic, because you have people who get the point of these characters (people who have actually read a comic before and paid attention to the story) but you also have insufferable film/comic bros who worship the ground Nolan and Reeves walks upon and who don't even take time to explore the rest of the Batfamily comics (his gang of vigilante children show up in the stand-alone Batman comics, though, so I don't know how they're missing this, unless they have the reading comprehension of a goldfish, which they probably do tbh). It's why I think a lot of these weirdos don't like Gotham Knights or Wayne Family Adventures, because they hate the thought of there being any semblance of fun in the Batman franchise. Not everything needs to be doom and gloom! Let Dick Grayson be bisexual and let Bruce Wayne have a PTA rival! You can have your cake and eat it too!

I know this seems like a silly sentiment coming from a person who just wrote an entire essay on this, but maybe don't take Batman so seriously? I don't mean, of course, that you can't care about these characters, I'm actually saying the opposite! I care very deeply for these characters, so much that I obviously spat all this out. I just think some people need to fucking chill when it comes to realistically portraying Batman. There's nothing wrong with taking a more serious approach to the characters and I have no problem modernizing them, but you can't just have action hero Batman, you have to have the human behind the mask too. And if you can't balance that, then I'm sorry, but you shouldn't be making Batman adaptations, because you obviously don't understand what the character is about.

I'm nervous to see where Reeves will go with the character, and only time will tell. I've heard rumors he plans to introduce Robin, I've heard rumors he doesn't. Either way, it's obviously out of my hands and I'll have opinions either way, but I really hope he has a better understanding of the history of the franchise than Nolan. While I appreciate, again, what Nolan did for revolutionizing not only the Batman franchise but the comic movie industry as well, I can still find faults in how he went about things. I truly don't believe we can have a worthy adaptation of Batman live action without Robin and without embracing the silliness of Batman's villains and I really hope producers, writers, and directors realize that soon.

Sorry if you read all that...