#part two will explain everything

[dykedvonte]

Curly had two days to act and Swansea had two months.

I think it’s just interesting that every defense of Swansea not immediately acting are the same ones that are argued against for Curly. “He didn’t want to alert Daisuke or makes things worse for Anya either Jimmy!” I mean people also assume that about Curly and the crew. “He has to think about his plan of action and a right moment!” Again so did Curly, power and authority aside, he still would have to think of what he had to do. “He makes sure he doesn’t have to be around Jimmy!” So did Curly and they only do this to an extent, both give Jimmy more than a few opening to keep harassing Anya.

This isn’t defense of Curly nor a damnation of Swansea. Their actions are very parallel to each others in tragic and sour ways when it comes to how they approached helping Anya. In the grand scheme of it all they both did the same thing: Nothing. No action either took stopped the inevitable outcome of her death nor Jimmy’s continued damage to themself.

The only real difference is Swansea didn’t like Jimmy which is pretty substantial, but also just as damning as Curly knowing how bad Jimmy could get to an extent. He had even less of a reason to wait, even more of a reason to act seeing as he was now worried for Anya AND Daisuke. He is not bound by the possible procedure as Captain and actively does not care about what happens next. So what does it matter if he acted in the moment? Why did he wait? I think he’s just as morally complex and grey as Curly and we hold him on a pedestal that still perpetuates things in rape culture the game critiques.

It’s not just enough to dislike and be abrasive to predators/abusers like Jimmy. It’s not enough to just put yourself between them and the other person. It’s not enough to hold tensions when you know someone is vulnerable. He and Curly do the exact same things but on different sides of the coin. I ask how is it better to not turn a blind eye but still not really do anything about what you are seeing? Not until it affects you atleast…

The game makes a big point to not put men doing the bare minimum or who wait to do more on pedestals and I’m actually surprised so many are missing that point.

[crownedwille]

I've come to the conclusion that loving young royals doesn't mean I can't be critical about it, maybe especially bc I love the show so much I have such strong feelings about it, good and bad and I can love parts of canon and agree with it and appreciate it but I don't have to love it all. I have accepted that it's okay if I don't accept the ending and I don't have to force myself to support it. It's okay to not agree with all of canon and it's okay to not side with all of the creators' intentions/views. Loving a show doesn't mean you have to take everything the writers say on face value and that's the only version that is allowed to exist. Canon isn't everything and fandom is about curating your own experience that makes you happy and not miserable. You don't have to dismiss canon in every aspect and ignore it entirely, that's certainly not what I want but there is a fine line between being canon respectful, allowing some parts to exist and sometimes, yes, you just have to say "fuck canon" and move on for your own sanity and wellbeing

[jasontoddenthusiastt]

I think fans want Jason to be a good person or be becoming one. To have a character that is well meaning and compassionate but decided murder is ok and to stand against main heroes who’s beliefs and actions go against the people he cares about and wants in his life. It’s confusing for people. People want their fav characters to be happy. But Jason can’t have his family’s support and follow his moral code. He’s cares about people and Gotham, and he’s an asshole who kills. It’s messy. It’s not black and white. I don’t even think Jason cares about being a good person or in the right anymore. I think he cares about what will save the most people instead.

Oh my goodness gracious I’ve been bamboozled

Batman’s definition of Good is not synonymous with absolute good/right no matter how much dc insists it is. Torture, battery/assault, surveillance, those are all condemnable actions too. I won’t get into the exhausting and frankly dumb debate of comic book morality wrt killing because I’ve already reblogged plenty of posts from other people who explained my thoughts on the matter far better than I ever have the patience to sit down and articulate. I also just think the notion that there’s something to be done about fictional characters who kill nazis and senseless murderers is stupid. Jason’s point is that the “main” heroes’ sanitized definition of right has its unaddressed holes and flaws which ultimately result in more preventable fatalities, and that he’ll work to correct those missing spots.

He doesn’t not care about doing what’s right. What he doesn’t care about (at least during his Winick characterization) is whether Batman thinks he’s right or wrong, because he sees the flaws in Batman’s methodology (and since he has a mind of his own). Batman’s methods alone cannot address Arkham’s revolving door and the rogues that come and go through those doors who have no intention (or capability from the doylist pov) of ever changing or undergoing redemption. Jason knows that he’s minimizing the number of preventable deaths by killing his targets, typically Characters Who Simply Do Fucked Up Shit Just Because, Why The Fuck Not?

Secondly, Jason is compassionate … to a fault. That was his fatal flaw. If he wasn’t so hell-bent on saving his potential birth mother he just met from that bomb despite everything she did to him prior, he could have protected himself instead, however slim his odds of survival were. What about his relationship with his other parents? He was a caregiver during his early childhood years for Catherine, until her death. Even mature adults who are financially stable find being a caregiver to a dying parent to be extremely burdensome on their bodies and minds, but he never complained about it or resented Catherine for being unable to care for him. Despite how none of his parents have really been what he needed them to be, he doesn’t blame them for their failings, and even continues to think highly of them (Bruce included).

And post-death? Enter Lost Days. Despite being dead set on plotting his revenge on Bruce, he constantly sidelines this in order to save other victims who are helpless like he once was. His own anger, trauma, and mission don’t remain his priority. (Sound familiar? Something something my own trauma above my son’s, mission above all else, etc.). Why would he waste precious time and risk his own life to do this if he wasn’t empathetic towards these victims or didn’t care about doing the right thing. He is simultaneously horribly traumatized and full of rage, and also incapable of ignoring what’s happening to victims around him (even as he claims that it’s indeed not his priority). And in that same vein, the entire premise of his rebirth outlaws run was that he doesn’t care if the public views him as a villain, an outlaw, so long as he can protect Gotham. And anyway where is this portrayal of him not caring about being in the right anymore. Almost every modern Jason story is about him grappling with where he stands with Bruce/Batman. During the early 2000s was probably the last time he did not care (hello, tentatodd??).

Jason has very evidently been portrayed as a kind and compassionate character. He is also simultaneously a calculated killer who doesn’t hesitate to kill when he deems necessary, and does so without remorse. It’s called being a Complex Character With An Edge™ that as you said, people so often claim to love. However when he fulfills that latter part, that seems to upset people because “killing bad”, and they then try to shave off and round out all his edges and claim he shouldn’t be that angry. In that case I guess you should just stick to liking traditional one-dimensional characters instead of claiming to like Jason but then encouraging his character assassination attempt by dc. Lol.

Lastly, who said anything about the batfam making Jason happy? Just because he’s written nowadays to want acceptance from Bruce (a shoddy attempt at forcing a non-existent nuclear batfamily), doesn’t mean that it’s a sound decision or that it does his character justice. I certainly don’t empathize with the idea that Jason needs the family’s approval or acceptance to be happy. (And anyway he has enough outlets for angst and pain aside from the batfam hello explore his other sources of trauma and do more deep dives into how he thinks when he’s alone). I don’t want them to magically make up and become one big happy family. This is not disney Lol. Besides, there are plenty of stories from dc that have that type of “wholesome” (hate that word utilization) characterization for Jason (Li’l Gotham, Tiny Titans, wfa, and even new stuff like the brave and the bold mini) and that is sufficient imo. Jason fans who are invested in the character deserve accurate, nuanced characterization and well-written stories, whether they be from his robin days (e.g., Batman: The Cult) or as red hood.

[clawsextended]

in my perfect world everyone makes so many lesbian muses the men then have to deal with the exact same behavior when every single post ever written isn’t about dick.

[valeriianz]

so, i HAVE an idea for something 00's romcommy (thanks to @carnelianmeluha and @wordsinhaled) but as i was writing it, i thought to myself, "but they need backstory!" and what was going to be just a few paragraphs of introspection turned into a 3.3k high school AU set in the 90s. so, have this for now. part 2 will be up whenever i feel like it :)

--------------------------------------------------

“Dream!”

Hob found him in a corner, blending into the shadows and had to laugh as he looked up at the sound of his name. He was wearing black, as usual, with his hands stuffed into the pockets of his tight jeans.

“So glad to see you here.” Hob said as he approached, looking upon his friend with a little less restraint than he typically allowed. The vodka-spiked punch was hitting him hard.

Dream relaxed a modicum, his shoulders visibly drooping as his chin tilted up.

“I am only here because you invited me.”

Hob’s smile only widened as he leaned forward. 

“Then I’m flattered. Do you want a drink?”

Dream shrugged and Hob laughed again, turning halfway and inclining his head for Dream to follow him.

Hob, despite being in with the more popular kids in his grade, wasn’t the biggest fan of house parties. He knew Dream wasn’t either; moreso, in fact. Dream was more likely to be found spending his Friday nights cooped up in the library, nose stuck in a book.

But tomorrow they were graduating from high school, and Hob’s parents weren’t coming back from their anniversary trip until the morning. Which meant this was Hob’s last chance to throw an epic rager. 

Though Derek Gallagher, the star athlete of their high school’s football team, was also throwing a party tonight, so it was less of a rager going on here, and more of a casual hang sesh. Hob couldn’t complain though. At least he liked the dozen or so people in his parent’s house, and at least cleaning up the next day wouldn’t be impossible. And no one had messed with the volume control for the music yet; 90s hip hop and r&b dripping through the entertainment system. 

Hob nabbed a red solo cup and ladled out the sweet drink into it, passing it along to Dream, who took it with a suspicious look before taking a sip.

Dream immediately blanched.

“Oh. That’s awful.”

Hob laughed again before biting his bottom lip. Dream didn’t seem to mind though, his own little smile peeking through.

“You can dilute it with more juice in the fridge, if you want.”

Throughout the evening, Hob tried to keep his attention on more than just Dream at his side, chatting with his fellow classmates and laughing along to stories and jokes, one last go at clearing up the rumor mill.

And though Dream mostly kept quiet, he did acknowledge those who greeted him, congratulated him on getting into a university in England, how fun it was going to be moving overseas, to which Dream hummed and nodded politely.

Hob was the only one who knew the truth: that Dream’s parents were sending him away. That while Dream had been accepted on an academic scholarship, it was only because his family had set it up for him. Had forced him to apply, had paid for his application and was having him shipped off next month, when Dream would turn 18 and they didn’t have to keep him in their house any longer.

What looked like a privileged situation was actually cruel and heartbreaking. Yes, Dream was going to Oxford. That was insane. Yes, his stupidly wealthy parents were paying for his room and board and what tuition the scholarship didn’t cover. But it was only a drop in the bucket for them. They saw Dream’s future more as a promising investment for when they grew old and needed Dream’s career to take care of them. Not as if they had plenty of money stowed away to keep them afloat during retirement and then some. Or plenty of children, for that matter.

And of course to say they had yet another child in some prestigious university didn’t hurt their reputation either.

Hob managed to derail the subject every time it came up, of where everyone else was going to college. It was inevitable, discussing the future with his classmates, given the timing. But Hob could see Dream sinking more and more into himself as the night went on, holding onto his drink more for his hands to be occupied than anything else.

“I know,’ Johanna announced suddenly, hours bleeding into the late evening. “Let’s liven things up a bit.”

She had several hands help clear a large area in the living room as she procured the empty vodka bottle, shaking it with a drunken twinkle in her eyes.

“Truth or dare, motherfuckers.”

The party, which had been dying down, suddenly turned up again. Everyone refilled their drinks and formed a large circle on the floor. 

Dream plopped down next to Hob, folding his legs and throwing a lazy, tipsy smile at Hob. Who had to take another sip of his drink to keep himself from doing something drastic. Like tell Dream how cute he was right now. 

His coal black hair was a mess, sticking up and curling around his ears from the excessive amount of times Dream had run his hand through it. His boots were off, his sock-clad toes wiggling in anticipation. And his blue eyes seemed to shine, reflecting off the Christmas lights Hob had hung around the house for the party.

The game started and everyone played along, turning up the stakes and performing various wacky scenarios that only teenagers were capable of escalating. Cori licked Alex’s eyeball on a dare, erupting a chorus of screams and gags and Alex furiously rubbing his eyes afterward. On a demand for truth, Rachel confirmed the rumor that she’d fingered Johanna under the bleachers freshman year to an absolute assault of jeers and hooting and hollering, causing the extremely rare sight of Johanna flushing scarlet from her ears down to her neck. 

Naturally the game turned racy after that. Dares to kiss and show off hidden tattoos. Truths to admit who fucked whom and what would you do for such-and-such.

Hob feels himself getting warmer. And not to mention Dream, who remained seated next to him during this entire debauchery, becoming increasingly more uncomfortable as the game wore on. Hob could sense him slowly slipping out of the circle, until his knee lightly touched Hob’s hip, instead of where it had been for the better part of half an hour, resting against his thigh.

Hob turned, finding Dream staring down into his empty cup, turning it around and around in his grasp, and had just opened his mouth to comfort him, when Johanna piped up across from him.

“Hob, truth or dare.”

Hob’s head swung forward, eyes falling on the bottle top pointing directly at him. He sniggered softly, taking another peek over at Dream and finding his eyes now on him. Hob gently laid his hand over Dream’s foot, giving it what he hoped was a comforting squeeze before facing Jo again.

Truth be told, Hob was feeling much too invigorated from the alcohol, and he’d been waiting for his time to shine. Hob loved making a spectacle and so let his smile turn into a smirk, meeting Jo’s challenging stare head on.

“Dare.”

A collection of “ooh”s and delighted giggles spread around the circle.

“Good choice, Hobsie.” Her own brown eyes sparkled with mirth. Hob wasn’t sure when Rachel had crawled into her lap, but didn’t let it distract him from her next words. 

“I dare you to…” Jo tilted her chin, tapping it in mock consideration. “Kiss the person the bottle next lands on.”

Oh, easy, Hob thought. About to open his mouth to say so, when Jo spoke up again.

“With tongue.”

“Pfft,” Hob sat up, pushing his chest out. “You’re on.”

He reached forward, licking his lips teasingly as his eyes roamed around the circle of his peers, getting a hand around the bottle and giving it a powerful twirl.

The room went quiet save for a few hushed exchanges and some girls giggling that only made Hob grin flirtatiously. He felt the alcohol in his blood rushing with enough speed to make him dizzy, and the spinning bottle honestly wasn’t helping. But Hob had been patiently waiting his turn all night so watch it he would. 

Soon, all eyes followed the bottle as it began to slow, a hush of anticipation that Hob’s peers had been accustomed to all night falling over the circle once more.

Until the bottle finally stopped, and Hob’s heart along with it.

Because the mouth of the bottle pointed squarely at Dream, sitting right next to him. 

Scattered hollering and clapping filled Hob’s ears as his gaze flicked sideways to his friend, who was staring at the bottle, his posture ramrod straight, his hands no longer fiddling.

Hob swallowed and ignored the jeering and playful jab at his side from Cori, eyes fixated on his friend, his best friend. Who didn’t like going to parties, who only smiled when he meant it, who only complained about his parents stupid and strict rules only if Hob asked, never wanting to appear annoying, or too much, preferring to keep to the shadows.

Dream, who would fold if only Hob gave him his best pout, allowing himself to be tugged along to a concert or arcade with a well timed joke and friendly pestering. Who seemed like such a stick-up-the-ass to everyone except Hob, who only had eyes for him. Hob’s best friend, shy and awkward and a little mean, and so devastatingly handsome it was a wonder Hob hadn’t had the balls to do something about it yet.

It would take something as juvenile as a dare to finally give Hob the excuse to act upon his helpless crush. Though Dream…

Dream hadn’t looked away from the bottle. Bringing his lips in to form a line and. Hob felt his nerves begin to escape from out his ears.

“Hey…” Hob spoke gently, moving his hand to carefully rest on Dream’s knee.

Dream’s gaze snapped to Hob at once, and the look in his eyes made Hob’s stomach drop.

He looked terrified.

Hob’s breath caught in his throat, the air around them suddenly thick with an unidentified tension. 

Cori’s voice popping up over Hob’s shoulder made them both jump.

“C’mon, Morpheus. Hob won’t bite, unless you ask him to!”

Hob sighed loudly, rolling his eyes for the group’s benefit, who eased up with a roll of snickering around them. One time, that happened!

“I–” Dream started, swallowing hard enough for his Adam’s apple to bob harshly. “I’d rather–”

“Just one kiss, Dream,” Hob heard himself say, a little desperate. A little too drunk. “It’ll be really quick…” He felt himself already leaning in and Dream’s lips parted, sucking in an audible breath.

“Kiss, kiss, kiss!”

Jo and Cori started the chant, and everyone around them followed suit, egging Hob and Dream on.

The realistic, rational part of Hob’s brain, which was still muddled by cheap vodka, tried to remind Hob that this was just a game, and Dream didn’t have to do this if he didn’t want to. He’d even opened his mouth to say so, amongst the drunken, teenage laughter and clapping in time to the chant.

But what he spoke, instead of insisting they didn’t have to kiss, that they could potentially even revisit this, and Hob’s ego wouldn’t be bruised, thank you very much, was a quiet,

“Please?”

Dream’s brows pinched together, he looked truly torn and Hob couldn’t figure out what that meant, especially as the seconds ticked away. Driving Hob crazy, waiting for permission; verbally or even a single head nod. Hob wet his lips and his stomach did an acrobatic leap as he caught Dream’s gaze flick down to catch the motion, his shoulders visibly rising as he took a breath.

“No.”

Hob blinked and Dream was untangling himself from the floor, standing up so fast he wobbled, and stomped out of the room.

The chanting died down at once. Hob felt himself frozen to the carpet in the surrounding silence. 

Somebody politely coughed. Hob’s gaze found Johanna, who only looked back at him in sympathy, her eyebrows tilted up. 

Humiliation and rejection burned in Hob’s chest, crawling up his neck and making his ears hot. 

Cori clicked his tongue and Hob whipped his head around to glare at him.

“Tough luck, buddy.”

“Shut up,” Hob hissed, feeling all the more embarrassed for it. He splayed his hands flat on the floor, pushing himself up without another look at his classmates, and walked towards where Dream had vanished to with shaking limbs.

—------------------------------------

Hob found him quickly enough, going through the laundry room and out the door that led to the back yard.

“Dream?”

Blue eyes, barely visible in the darkness, rose to find Hob as he made his way down the steps, sitting across from Dream, against the railing, putting distance between them.

Dream looked forward again, his eyes set, face unreadable. Hob hated that he was drunk at the moment because he’d otherwise never chuckle sarcastically like he’s doing now. Hiding the pain, perhaps, hoping Dream can’t see how ashamed he’s feeling, how rejection boils in his blood and even looking at Dream right now, twists Hob’s insides.

“What the hell?”

Dream takes a long breath through his nose, pushing his shoulders back. And says nothing.

“It would have just been a stupid kiss,” Hob goes on, unprompted. Words tumbling out of his mouth like vomit. “You’re my friend. Is the thought of kissing me so disgusting you need to run away?”

Hob feels his eyes begin to sting and throws his head back, smiling derisively. He was about to start crying. Great.

Once he’s gotten himself under control, Hob tilts his head down and finds Dream watching him, his own gaze softened, if only minutely.

His lips part, voice low and quiet. “You misunderstand me.”

“Then I’d love it if you’d explain,” Hob sighs roughly. “Because you just made me look like an asshole in there.”

Dream shakes his head, unfolding his arms over his lap and getting long, pale fingers around his knobbly knees instead.

“The world is ending tonight.” Dream starts cryptically, staring at how his fingers pick at the tears in his jeans. “Tomorrow we graduate. I’m going to England and we’ll never see each other again.” He looks sideways at Hob, who’s holding his breath.

“And you’re still worried about how people perceive you?” He takes a breath. “You choose to spend your last hours getting drunk and playing juvenile games? Instead of…” Dream gaze flits back toward the house, swallowing.

Hob scoots over, closer to Dream. Summer is right around the corner but the night air is cool still, clean and pleasantly quiet. And Dream blends into the darkness like he belongs there, the stars in the cloudless sky, how they light up the darkness along with the moon, giving just enough illumination to see by, to marvel at Dream sitting on Hob’s back porch steps. 

Taking in the wonder that is Hob’s closest friend, beautiful, shy, wicked smart Dream. Hob feels calm fall over him like a blanket. Mulling on Dream’s words, and settling on a response.

“What would you rather be doing?”

Dream finds Hob’s gaze again, and Hob lifts his shoulders, prompting Dream further, but he remains silent. Hob takes a breath, speaking again when Dream doesn’t respond.

“If the world is ending anyway…” Hob starts, licking his bottom lip. “Then just say it.”

Agonizing seconds slip by, where Dream stares at Hob, lips slightly parted, eyes widening.

“I want to kiss you.”

Hob’s heart lurches in his chest and he feels the air leave his lungs. Dream’s voice is so quiet, so fragile, it makes Hob ache.

“But not–” Dream inclines his head slightly, toward the house. “Not like that.”

“Oh…” Hob says eloquently, finding himself petrified once again.

There’s a new tension in the silence that falls between them. Waiting, anticipating. Hob takes a steadying breath and feels like he’s jumping off a cliff.

He gets on hand on the floor between them and leans over, his other hand hovering towards Dream. 

“Can I–?”

“Yes.”

Dream meets him halfway, pressing warm, chapped lips to Hob’s, and holding still. 

It’s sweet, and careful, and when Dream exhales from his nose, the warm air hitting Hob, his lips part to take a breath and Hob lunges forward, getting a hand around the side of Dream’s face and pulling him in. Hob sweeps his tongue along the seam of Dream’s lips once before diving past, pulling a surprised gasp from Dream that turns into a soft groan.

Hob’s fingers caress into the soft strands of Dream’s hair as they kiss, elation popping off like fireworks under Hob’s skin as he finally is able to touch his friend like this. Move his lips along Dream’s with drunken coordination and vigor, putting as much affection and want into the kiss as Hob could, hoping Dream could understand. Could feel how long Hob has wanted to do this. And as they move together, bodies naturally closing the distance between them and Dream’s hands finsting into Hob’s shirt before weaving up and around his shoulders, Hob understands why Dream would rather share this privately, without an audience of their peers gawking.

Because this was real. Years of repressed yearning and feelings bubbling up to the surface and tumbling forth in exchanged breaths and needy whines, Hob’s fingers digging a little harder into Dream’s scalp, Dream’s hands, in response, clawing at Hob’s back, pulling him impossibly closer as his body arched like a bow so their chests bumped and Hob could feel the heat of his friend’s body against his own.

Hob tore his mouth away, taking a ragged breath, stealing it from Dream, before going back in, again and again, little lips-only kisses that elicited the prettiest noises from Dream. Especially as Hob’s lips wanders down his chin and up his jaw, causing his friend to cling tighter to Hob, tilting his head to give Hob better access, breathing through his mouth, the hot air hitting Hob’s ear and driving him wild.

“Dream…” Hob finally spoke, his low voice painted in arousal and causing Dream to shake in his arms. He nipped Dream’s ear before licking it. “Why is this all coming out now?”

One of Dream’s hands went up into Hob’s hair, fingers tangling in the brown locks as he huffed his response.

“I could ask the same of you.”

Hob smiles, but it’s sad. He’s slowed down now, gently nudging his nose underneath Dream’s ear before pulling back, facing him once more.

Dream’s eyes flutter open and Hob feels struck down. He’s never seen Dream’s eyes so dark, his blue iris’ nearly all encompassed by the black of his pupils. Hob, unable to resist now, taps his nose to Dreams, taking a breath.

“I was scared.”

He can hear how Dream swallows.

“Me too.”

They sit like that for a long moment, holding on to one another, breathing each other’s air, savoring the revelation that had just transpired. And knowing it wouldn’t last. 

—-------------

They of course saw each other again at graduation, and throughout the days that followed. Hob prepared to move across the state to his chosen college and Dream prepped to leave the country all together.

Hob offered to drive Dream to the airport on moving day, but Dream shook his head, saying it was already too painful that he was leaving, he didn’t want any lingering looks. Instead Dream’s father took a quick detour to Hob’s house, where Dream stood in Hob’s doorway to say goodbye, and in full view of both their families, all they could do was hug. And Hob put his entire body into it, crushing Dream, who had always been so damn thin and gangly, in his arms and nosing his way into Dream’s hair to take one final, deep inhale.

“We’ll see each other again.” Hob promised, in that hopeful way young people did.

Dream only smiled ruefully, his eyes shining and causing a lump to form in Hob’s throat.

“Promise?”

“Yeah.” Hob nodded, getting his hands around Dream’s face and caressing his thumbs under his eyes and across sharp cheekbones. “You think you can get rid of me that easily?”

Dream huffed out a quiet laugh, the blue of his eyes sparkling.

[sidesteppostinghours]

pulps law is that whenever i get insane enough about something, i will inevitably attempt to make a persona 5 au, regardless of whether or not i am successful at it.

[three-bunnies-in-a-trenchcoat]

Gotta say, I don't like all the theories that botw/totk are the only canon games/everything else is a retelling

[grapejuicegay]

sooooo we all saw not just how excited day was at the thought of having dinner with just mhok on his birthday but also the way his eyes lit up when mhok asked him what status he wanted right? and when he mentioned how different the vibes felt from when they went to a restaurant to practice we were all thinking about mhok flirting with day and being all romantic and how day wanted those vibes again right?

[dianagj-art]

I am struggling

[cog-go-boom]

uh, who's your dad?

so yep that's the story here! guess my previous great explanation has confused some of you fellas out there so this should make it clear as day i hope. this stuff didn't happen over night, but i guess realizing we wouldn't exist if he didn't give brian a distraction that one time made allan think.... LOL imagine a world without me in it, i'd be sad too, dude!!!

[winemom-culture]

It’s not off the table that I really just don’t understand what makes a “good” horror movie and what the genre is supposed to be about. Because on the other side of the coin, I watched Vivarium (2019) like a year or two ago, and while like arguably that’s more sci-fi/psychological than horror, it really stuck with me. I will just be sitting around on any given normal day and think about Vivarium and be like god damn, what an incredible movie. Come to find out it’s got godawful reviews, the enthusiasts and the critics say it’s trash! I don’t care I’ll keep watching that garbage

[lesbiansanemi]

I am so fucking sick of living with my roommate and his fuck ass boyfriend. Also watching my roommate burn every single one of his (already rather minimal, I might add) bridges for this guy is also kind of painful but also his relationship with me is one of said bridges so I'm almost past the point of even feeling bad for him lmao

[rxttenfish]

i absolutely cannot let myself get started on another fic until im at least onto chapter 5 of caecilian but the temptation to write something of aaravi taking miranda monster hunting and describing the entire EVERYTHING there is real

[rustedleopard]

what would chujin think of staroba?

Initial knee-jerk reaction of "Seriously? This guy?" before mellowing out into a "Well, at least Starlo's kind to her and she's happy." Chujin may not like Starlo, but Chujin also knows that he's a good person who only has the best intentions for Ceroba. If she's happy in the relationship then that's all that matters.

[mad-hunts]

so... i've been thinking about auriel again because i actually did have an account for her once upon a time (just on another platform) + all i can remember is doing this roleplay on there with barton immediately asking the person whom told him they saw her was whether she was okay because she had went missing with no trace for years after all. and additionally, this was also while shedding tears like there was NO tomorrow, which is 😭 like he isn't a good person, y'all, but he does have his moments where it actually seems like he genuinely cares about people

[townslore]

discovery of the day