#they just want that old story rehashed over and over and OVER again

[angeljpg]

i think what’s most exhausting about modern media, especially when one of the major studios is involved, is that it is always prime for being the next thing to use for justifying blatant harassment. i don’t care if a show receives criticism. i don’t care if people don’t enjoy an actor’s performance. but i do care that these actors (and mostly actresses) are marked as public enemies for simply starring in content that people deem not entertaining enough. i do care that whenever a poc is involved in any major role, there has to be ample reasoning as to why they’re there or they’re derided as a diversity hire. there is no room for error or flaws, they have to be literally perfect and infallible or they risk being dogpiled on. and even the poc actors that are damn near perfect still fall victim to extreme hate.

the acolyte had clear flaws, but they were many of the same flaws that nearly every piece of star wars media has because, let’s be real, sw is just a glorified high budget soap opera. the difference is that the other iterations were given the opportunity to flesh out their stories over time and build a fan base. but the acolyte didn’t get the opportunity to because the existing fans of this franchise literally cannot engage with any media that deviates from the same narrow narrative.

[the-judicial-assistants-notebook]

why didn't they just use franziska for literally all of this.

[mothiir]

story time with isaiah

I can’t stop writing for these boys I love them.

Cw for caning, descriptions of blood.

—

—

It has been just under a month, and the Emperor — in His most glorious and unending mercy — has seen fit to continue to conceal your existence from the rest of Isaiah’s battle brothers. He and Reuben benefit from your redemptive labour, as you atone for your extensive sins by darning their socks, polishing their armour, and keeping their dormitory spotless.

With a little satisfied sound, you set aside your mending. You have been piecing Brother Reuben’s hair shirt back together, and your fingers are raw from handling the tough wool. Isaiah smells the iron tang of your blood.

You stretch your arms up over, closing your eyes as your joints click. Isaiah looks up from his current dedication — transcribing the life and times of Saint Celestine onto fresh parchment in his neatest handwriting — and sees that you are relaxing back into your bunk. His brow furrows a little. It is not time for you to sleep, and you show no signs of engaging in contemplation of the Emperor’s many noble deeds — though perhaps you are doing this internally? 

“Free time is an affront to the Emperor, little mortal,” he says, dipping his quill into ochre-red ink to outline the title of the newest segment, wherein Saint Celestine engaged in combat with a daemonette of Slaanesh and defeated it. This segment is an especially lengthy one, and well-illustrated, and he wants to do it justice. “Ensure at all times you keep Him in your thoughts.”

”Yes, my lord,” you say, eyes snapping open — a sure sign of guilt. One of your hands protectively rests over the hair shirt, probably recalling the last time that Isaiah had seen fit to bless you with more work. “No need to tear this, lord, I am more than happy to keep the Emperor in my thoughts while uh —“

Isaiah sighs, setting the quill down. Since the dormitory now only holds two Templars, he and Reuben have been able to redecorate, hammering the unused bunks into a workstation, pushed up against the wall. Their trunks serve as an adequate chair, tough durasteel enough to support the bulk of an Astartes — providing the Astartes in question is not armoured. 

“I am not going to tear the shirt, girl. I tore those socks because you showed an uncouth amount of joy in finishing your work for the day. And — besides, that is not the subject of discussion,” he says, thankful that Brother Reuben is not here, otherwise he would once again find himself rehashing an old absurd argument. Brother Reuben had objected to ‘his underwear being used as part of a pointless lesson and now she is upset and my feet are cold’. 

You had, admittedly, been a little upset — uttering little hitching squeaks, like you were swallowing back sobs — but Isaiah maintains it was an important chance to practice the virtue of patience, and you had restitched all of the socks in record time, so what was the harm done?

Still. Perhaps this is a chance to impart a gentler kind of lesson. Good relations with lesser mortals is an essential part of serving the Emperor. 

“Have you ever heard the tale of Saint Celestine?” he says instead. To his surprise, you brighten up. 

“Yes, my lord! I saw the latest holo about her before uh — before my world was cleansed in Holy Fire. Though of course it may have been a corrupted version of the story and uh—“

You are babbling. You often do this, and Brother Reuben has assured him that it is not a fault in your genetics, but a natural consequence of your human frailty. Isaiah cuts you off.

”I will teach you one of her many victories,” he says, “and of how her undying faith in the Emperor brought glory to both her and those who fought beside her.”

He turns away from his manuscript, folds his hands in his lap, and begins the tale. Saint Celestine was once a member of the Adepta Sororitas’ Order of Our Martyred Lady…

—

Just over an hour later, he finishes up the tale of how she appeared in glorious golden raiment to the beleaguered defenders of the city of Karlstadt, who were standing proud against the hideous assembled forces of heresy and ruin. How she had drawn her blessed blade and sliced apart the daemons arrayed before her. How she had blessed the inhabitants of the city, before fading into the rising sun like a dream of better times.

“That was beautiful,” you say. Isaiah had been staring off into the middle distance, allowing his eidetic memory to take hold of his tongue — but at your voice he focuses on you, gratified by the adoration in your eyes. The Living Saint is a balm to the faithful, and a scourge to the heretic.

“It is, is it not? Now, you recite it.”

Silence. You blink at him in puzzlement.

”You recite it,” he prompts. “So that you may tell the story to others.”

”Oh — uh — well, once there was…”

”No, no, no,” he says. “That is not correct. You must recite it exactly as I did, with the same words — this is how it was taught to me, and it is how it must be taught to you.”

”The — the exact same words?” you say, starting to grow flustered, your hands twisting into the hair shirt. The movement agitates the wounds on your hands, filling the air once more with the fragrance of your blood, and it gives Isaiah a splendid idea. 

“Yes. Do not worry, I will help with your memory — I understand that it is far inferior to mine.”

He looks around for a suitable implement. His warhammer is too heavy; his bolter far too precious. He reaches up to one of the unused wooden shelves and, with very little effort, rips it out of the metal brackets, before splintering it with a single crushing fist. 

“…my lord?” you say, sounding nervous. Isaiah smiles in what he hopes is a soothing way. 

“Do not be worried. I understand that your lapses in memory are not a sign of heresy, only of your own feeble genetics. This is a method that I was blessed to experience as a neophyte, before my implants worked fully, and it worked very well.”

He extracts the longest piece of wood, and uses his thumbnail to polish it, turning ragged pulp into a more suitable smoothness. He swishes it experimentally. Perfect.

“Now,” he says sunnily. “I will say a segment of the tale; you will repeat it. Every time you get it wrong, I shall give you a little tap with this. The pain focuses your mind, and ensures that next time you will not forget!”

”Uh — I do not think that is necessary my lord —“

You are hunched like a Jerboa about to bolt, smelling of fear. Isaiah sighs. 

“Girl, please do not be ungrateful. I am trying to bestow the Emperor’s kindness upon you. Now give me your hand.”

Your arm trembles, but you still extend your palm, fingers curled protectively over it. Just as he is about to begin the exercise, he recalls Brother Reuben’s fury at his torn socks. Ah. Yes. Anything that will hinder your ability to work is probably going to cause issues with his battle brother — and baseline humans take so long to heal. 

The soles of your feet? No, he cannot have you unable to stand. Your back? No — you need to hunch over your mending. Your face? Some of the serfs ritually scar themselves as part of their penance.

No. Not your face. That is a little dramatic for something as trivial as learning a story. 

And then it occurs to him in a lightning flash — of course! 

“Kindly lift your skirt up and bend over the bed,” he says, thanking the Emperor for His guidance. If you struggle to sit down then that is no problem — you can sew standing up! And you can sleep on your front, so it will not even affect your lengthy and inefficient spells of rest. 

You make a strange strangled sound. 

“My — my lord?” you manage, and that warm feeling kindles once more in his belly. Bringing a waif to the Emperor’s light; imparting unto you stories normally reserved for Astartes. It makes him feel all happy and tingly in a way he usually associates with a battle hard won, or an especially entertaining heretic burning. 

“Hurry up now,” he says, indicating the bunk. You look behind you, as if expecting Brother Reuben to materialise with his usual rebukes, but he is busy in the chapel (though Isaiah cannot imagine what possible issue his brother could have with this plan). 

Trembling like a new fawn, you bend over the bunk, propping your elbows on it. 

“Your skirt too,” Isaiah says, helpfully. “If fabric gets into the wounds it can cause infection, and that is a serious matter for a baseline.”

You inch your skirt up in little shuddering movements that Isaiah finds absolutely hypnotic for reasons he cannot quite understand. You bare plump, tender flesh — thighs sweeping up to the curve of your buttocks, which quiver under his gaze. 

“Do you not have any undergarments?” he says. 

“I did,” you say, after a moment. “They uh. They vanished.”

How baffling. Humans are absentminded to the extreme — perhaps you mislaid them? He will have to ask Brother Reuben of their whereabouts. 

“Now,” he says. His mouth feels odd — a little too dry. He swallows a few times, rolling his tongue against the soft insides of his cheeks, wondering briefly — absurdly — if your skin would feel as soft against the press of his fingers. ”Let us begin.”

—

You start off so well, parroting back the first few sentences he recites for you almost down to his intonation. Alas, you are still only a human, and the mistakes soon begin —

“…for Saint Celestine appeared in —“

Wssshhh goes the instrument, and you squeal. Your buttocks jiggle in a way that would definitely distract a lesser man; but Isaiah is completely devoted to the Emperor’s word, and thus does not take more than forty five seconds to watch them move as you squirm in pain. He thought the strike was gentle, but your flesh is softer than butter, slicing open with the least touch. 

“You missed something out,” he says, after his momentary pause. “Try again.”

”I am sorry — ow that hurts — uh — “

This time, you get the phrasing right (‘miraculously appeared’ not just ‘appeared’), and proceed until —

“—her hair of gold — “

Another strike. The flesh of your rear splits like ripened fruit, and you yowl. 

“Hair of black, eyes of gold,” Isaiah corrects patiently. It is just as well he has taken you under his wing. The way you squirm and squeak is most immodest, and he is certain that none of the other serfs take discipline with the same lack of dignity. 

“Hair of — hair of black, eyes of — eyes of gold —“

He forgives you the stammer, but he cannot forgive the lapse that follows, as you describe Saint Celestine’s armour as ‘radiant’ rather than ‘luminous’. This time, Isaiah is most careful with his blow, and your skin only flares bright pink, rather than splitting asunder. You still whimper and wriggle as though he has made you bleed, which is most unbecoming. 

“Do try and endure the pain,” he tells you. “There is no need to be so…squirmy.”

Once again, he thanks the Emperor for guiding you to him, and not to a man with less moral fortitude, because the way the blood slicks over the curve of your rump and glistens would almost certainly lead a lesser man to sinful contemplation. 

The next lashes — earned through forgetting four of Saint Celestine’s thirty eight titles — have you blubbering, your face pressed into the blankets. Your buttocks, and the upper parts of your thighs, are streaked purple and pink with bruising, and blood drips down towards the backs of your knees. It smells bright and fresh — somehow more pleasing than the foul blood of xenos or heretics. Perhaps because it was shed by a penitent in service to the Emperor, not one of His enemies? Though Osric and Jean’s blood never smelled quite so…delicious. 

Hm. When did he last eat? Maybe he has been fasting overly much. That must be the reason his stomach tightens so.

You burble a slurry of sound into the mattress — even to his trained ear it barely resembles Gothic. 

“You’re not even halfway through memorising this,” he chides, and you manage another hiccuping attempt at repeating the conversation between Saint Celestine and her former Battle Sister Augusta. It is a most touching soliloquy on the importance of placing your faith in the Emperor, but —

“—and I will — I will do I must and take Him inside me, and let His will fill me like a flood — nay, like an ocean. His Holy Fire will spill deep inside my body —“

— for some reason it sounds a little different when you say it. His cheeks warm. 

Still, the technique is working. He finds he has to hit you less and less as you continue; the pain sharpening your mind, clearing the fog of doubt, permitting the Emperor’s words to penetrate. 

Finally, your approach the denouement, where Saint Celestine addresses the Emperor directly in prayer —

“My Lord, I beg of you to fill my humble body up —“

He strikes you without thinking.

“Wha — what did I get wrong?” you squeal, and it takes a moment for Isaiah to focus. He is staring at the jiggle of your thighs as you heave in desperate, pained breaths — by the Emperor’s light, clearly he has not done his job in teaching you how to best conduct yourself, because you are responding to proper discipline like a whore. Your spine arches as you try fruitlessly to escape; your eyes are wet and red-rimmed; your lips slick with spittle. Do you realise what you are doing? Ignorance is no defence against judgement; Isaiah could build a new monastery with the bones of those he has slain whose only crime was ignorance. 

Isaiah presses one hand on the small of your back, pressing down just enough to calm your twitching. He feels your heartbeat echo up through his palm; the scent of your blood fills his nose, and saliva puddles on his tongue. He is a Black Templar. His purpose is to slay the enemies of the Emperor; to crush them beneath his boots, to lay waste to their cities and hear the lamentations of their children, before they too are cast onto the pyre to ensure the rot does at the root. He is stronger than you. He is better than you, and your mewling is not effecting him, it cannot be effecting him —

”Keep going,” he says, his voice a low, hungry growl. “Finish the tale.”

” —yes. Of course. Saint Celestine thus spoke to the Emperor: “Fill my humble body up with Your Grace and Your Judgement, and let me then be a vessel for Your Will, bringing Your light to the dark and Your hope to the hopeless. Amen.” 

“Amen,” he echoes. 

—

He helps you clean up, for he would be a poor teacher indeed if he left you in a puddle of your own blood to contemplate your lesson. He waves away your protests that you can take care of yourself — it is a small matter for him, just requiring a little water and a clean rag. Your flesh is already swelling, puffy and tender, and when he runs his palm from your calf to your back he can feel the difference in temperature: from cool thighs to fever-warm buttocks. 

The apothecary insists that Astartes be thorough in their care of themselves. Thus, Isaiah takes care to repeat the gesture a few times, his large hands — each of which easily encircle your thighs — skimming with utmost consideration over your bruised flesh. 

“There,” he says, when he has attended to your wounds to his satisfaction. He tugs your skirt down to cover your modesty, pleased that he has fufilled his duty of care to you. “Is it not wonderful to learn the Emperor’s word?”

You prop yourself up on your forearms, turning back to look at him. “Yes,” you echo. “Simply wonderful.”

Isaiah beams at you, absent-mindedly lifting his fingers to his mouth to lick them clean. He has probably been fasting too much; a Templar must remain well fed to best serve the Emperor. 

“You can have the afternoon to recover,” he says, magnanimously. “We can commence your next lesson in a ten day — or whenever your schedule allows.”

”Yes, my lord. Thank you my lord,” you say. “All hail the Emperor and His most bounteous mercy.”

”All hail,” Isaiah says, already planning how to best explain this to Brother Reuben — while also making it excruciatingly clear that Brother Reuben needn’t trouble himself with the serf’s continued holy education. No, Brother Reuben can focus his considerable energy in locating the poor thing’s missing undergarments — a role far more befitting his station. “And next time,” he adds, licking the last of the blood from the back of his hand. “Refrain from squirming and mewling like a slattern. Have some self control.”

[flying-fangirls]

Arthur's Story

Okay so now that Part 46 is out and we got that moment of John explaining what Arthur's train story meant to him, I kinda want to talk about this particular allusion myself. Arthur's retelling is mostly pretty close to the original, but I am going to get into interpretation/implementation stuff. So if you want to read the original story for full context, it's "Solitude" by Ben Ames Williams!

To start bluntly: I do not like the Lilly comparison /nm

I'm not saying it's wrong per se, but I do believe it's a fairly weak conclusion that misses out on a lot of other potential.

Let's back up.

Alright, so if you go and read it, you'll quickly see that the original short story, "Solitude," is ridiculously well-aligned with the tone and mood of Malevolent. There are ideas of cosmic insignificance, perseverance and despair, questioning morality and "goodness," and helping others in dark times. (it does have some of the weird hallmarks of early 1900s white dude writing, but otherwise I actually quite like this story! it's got nice vibes and pretty words)

Where It Falls Short

Now, an allusion is a reference within a story to an outside piece of information, and its entire purpose is to add new depth. A good allusion considers the full context of whatever it's referencing, and uses that context to its advantage. It challenges the audience to work through that outside context and uncover some new perspective(s) on characters, themes, and/or plot— something they otherwise had not seen or considered before.

The thing is, when Part 46 applies the "Solitude" allusion to Lilly specifically, there's nothing new gained whatsoever. What does John tell us during this moment?

Lilly took care of him, showed him his first glimpse of humanity, and gave him a name— all good stuff! But also all old stuff, these details have all been said in the show before, some more than once. Since we know that the main point of an allusion is to bring something new to the table, then this implementation fails on that point because all it's done is simply rehash previously established perspectives on Lilly.

Not only does this take on the allusion fall short, the show's interpretation also limits our ability to understand it. This isn't a moment where the podcast shows us new information and lets us draw our own conclusions. This is a moment where John stands in for the podcast's voice, and he tells us what it considers the "right" interpretation. Even if we had formed our own interpretation about this allusion, the show has now essentially told us that those interpretations are "wrong" (which isn't an antagonistic move on the show's part, by the way! just the message it's unconsciously implying)

I agree that John's connection between the story and his experience with Lilly in Part 46 is a genuinely sweet moment! But unfortunately, because it neglects to take a new path, it's also a predictable moment that loses its strength among all the other sweet Lilly moments. And that takes away any chance for the allusion to impact the audience in a unique way, wasting its full potential.

Where It Misses Out

(now here comes the English major moment when I tell you why I'm right and you're not /j)

Alright, again, the Lilly comparison isn't wrong. I think it's totally legitimate to see this story about a woman helping an injured and lonely man, and think of Lilly! But personally, when I heard Arthur's retelling, I never once considered Lilly until the show told me to (12 episodes later). When I listened to Part 29 and the first half of the story, I admittedly was totally lost and dug through those lines over and over to find a meaning. And the only real interpretation that naturally came to me was a parallel to Arthur and John's journey. A man lost in a terrifying world, at the whims of forces much stronger than him, who has lost all of his loved ones to death or abandonment? Yeah, that's literally just Arthur and John.

And the conclusion in Part 39 only seemed to support that interpretation more— Moll abandons her entire life to follow Mat into the cold and dark, John and Arthur both (literally and figuratively) throw their lives away to help the other through the dark. We can even swap who's who here— either Arthur or John could be Mat struggling to survive as a "good" person, and either one could be Moll extending a hand to that person.

There's also a particular line that John says in Part 46 that feels completely out of place with the interpretation the show tells us:

He implies that Lilly did the same as Moll and shut out everything around them. But when Lilly takes care of John in the hospital, his development there isn't that she "drove out the world." Lilly brought the world closer to John, not further away— she helped him expand his focus outward, not close it off.

However, this line does fit extremely well with John and Arthur's dynamic! How often have we heard about these two's edges blurring, about their minds and emotions and internal selves blending together? How many times have these two expressed a love so codependent that it rejects everything outside of themselves? Heck, John's major emotional plot in s4 revolved around the desire to shut out the outside world and isolate himself together with Arthur.

Just like how Moll's arrival drove out the world for Mat, the arrival of John into Arthur's life certainly drove out the rest of the world, pulling him away from his job, home, and friends. Likewise, the arrival of Arthur into John's life most definitely drove out the rest of the world, removing him from the legacy of the King and literal world of the Dreamlands.

The podcast tries to push its Lilly interpretation into a mold that it simply does not fit. And in doing so, it completely misses the perfect connection between Moll/Mat and John/Arthur that already exists. "Solitude" offers a naturally perfect bridge between its story and Malevolent's, but Part 46 steers us away from that bridge and straight into the river where we're left without any strong understanding or impact.

Where It Could Go

Not only does a Jarthur interpretation of Arthur's story connect the allusion to the podcast well, it also gives us a new perspective to think about Jarthur with (again, the most important part of a good allusion).

Earlier I said that Arthur's retelling of "Solitude" mostly followed the story, and that's because he leaves out one key detail: Moll had spent most of her life trapped as the victim of abusive men who forced her to neglect herself and care for people who didn't care for her back. (Admittedly, I think it's weird the show ignored this specific detail, but most allusions do intentionally require outside work on the audience's part, so for now I'll hesitantly just say that was Guthrie's aim.)

If we consider this backstory in our interpretation, we can find a really fascinating view of Jarthur's dynamic. Both Arthur and John could be Mat: a man who has seriously harmed others before and is now left broken and lost in a dangerous world. Then we can have John as Moll: trapped by the King and the Dark World and Arthur's body, powerless to take control of his own self, forced to neglect his identity/values for others' wants. And we can have Arthur as Moll: stuck in relationships/lifestyles that restrict him, autonomy stolen by social expectations and eldritch beings with far more power than him. Both of them as Moll: escaping a past of abuse, but nevertheless still finding yourself in a position of supporting men at the cost of your individuality.

A Jarthur interpretation frames Arthur and John's pasts in a concept of abuse and neglect, which is not usually (if at all) how the podcast presents their backstories. It also forces us to reconsider the full scope of their dynamic with each other. Normally the show presents Jarthur as a messy, yet overwhelmingly restorative and supportive relationship. However, when we place Jarthur into the context of Moll, we are forced to stop and acknowledge how their dynamic still harms them both: They're codependent to a self-destructive degree, protective enough to harm anyone else who gets close, so closely connected that they lose a part of who they are for the other's sake. Neither one of them exist as a wholly independent individual anymore, both of them losing pieces of their minds, emotions, and bodies to accommodate for the other's needs.

While s4-5 John and Arthur are clearly at a point in their relationship where they openly express their love and gratitude to the other for "saving" them, this allusion presents us with a perspective on their situation without the rose-colored glasses. We have the opportunity to recontextualize their dynamic and remember just how much Arthur and John have lost for the sake of each other, no matter how loving and compassionate that sacrifice might be in their eyes.

Where I Conclude the Ramble

From the moment Arthur first told this story in Part 29, its ambiguous inclusion captivated my little overthinking brain. It was incredibly fascinating to mull over Arthur's words and John's reaction, and then to dig deeper into this obscure story outside of the podcast and uncover answers!

Which is why I think I'm so disappointed with the final answer that Part 46 told us. If anyone else has looked into "Solitude" outside of the podcast before, they likely saw the same well of potential depth to work with that Harlan Guthrie clearly also found. Yet, for some reason, the podcast offers a conclusion that barely scrapes the surface of that well.

Instead of giving us new depth to the story, a Lilly interpretation really just brings up more questions for us. Did Lilly neglect herself in some way when she took care of John? Was Lilly the victim of abuse at some point in her past? What parts of Lilly's past led her to this point? There's so much more information that we need for this layered allusion to make sense, but we never get that information, so all we're left with is a weak conclusion and wasted potential.

On the other hand, a Jarthur interpretation does answer questions for us, and it adds depth to our previous understandings of their dynamic. We better understand how John and Arthur's bad decisions lead them to their darkest moments, how lost and afraid they both felt at the start of the podcast, how they found relief and protection in the other. And we consider new possibilities of how John and Arthur's past circumstances abused them, how they were trapped in cycles that stole their autonomy, how they still cannot escape these cycles and keep throwing their lives away for others.

Part 46 told us a single interpretation to have for the train story, but there is no reason we can not (nor should not) look for other interpretations— especially when the story itself shows us evidence that points to a different answer.

(final disclaimer: I absolutely do not intend any of this as any sort of attack! this is just general literary critique to try and explain why I'm a little annoyed at a single line lol)

[lukolabrainrot]

Would love to know if everyone else is constantly flip flopping between ok they will absolutely get together to if they haven't by now after a tour like that, they never will and they must have their reasons?! It's driving me insane, I don't know how people have coped since the days of Jade, I'm only a few months in and already need them to sort their shit out!

Like I was fully optimistic the other day thinking it was plausible that Nic was wearing Lukes "drink milk" shirt with the half turned up sleeve (what has my life become!) and she looked so happy and she was posting more again on sm, knowing everyone would over analyse everything so I thought maybe things were taking a turn for the positive!

Now I'm reading the X rumours he's been spotted in some other country and people speculating its Cyrpus with A visiting her family. Could be absolute nonsense but the fact DM rehashed her old podcast about them, it would follow that we will get bombarded with clues now of where they are together from A. If they are on a holiday just the 2 of them, that kind of throws a lot of my theories out the window where I thought he would want to be distancing himself from A now in order to make a go of things with Nic.

But then I remember there has to be something more than friends between N & L or else I think Nic would have come to Lukes defence in a much stronger way after the pap walk given the backlash he got after it. I think if it had been all PR playing into their natural chemistry, Nic wouldn't have let him take the heat on his own as there was two of them in it and it would have been their game plan from the start, even with A being on the scene. Nic is very SM savvy and with their PR teams I'm sure they could have figured something to minimise the impact even though they would both then of got it in the neck for gaslighting everyone, at least it would have been done and everyone would have moved on by now! Instead, they both disappeared from SM and ignored it all because they couldn't refute what everyone saw because they are in love and didn't want to lie!!

So then I'm back to their absolutely has to be more to their story and the cycle just continues everytime something with A or JD crops up and I'm like, what are they all doing!!!

Same anon, same.

It's been quite the 🎢 on this 🚢, BUT I've been feeling more optimistic in general about L/N lately, and I think this is what's been helping me stay positive and level-headed in the midst of all the noise:

I literally don't listen to ANY of the rumors until I have receipts/proof. If I don't have this, then I just consider the rumor to be BS. This has been helping me soooo much! Although, I still spiral every once in a while 😅

I think we had soooo much content of L/N for MONTHS, that I think we all are kind of going through "withdrawals" (for lack of a better word), especially for those of us that are new to the ship, and are therefore hyperanalyzing EVERYTHING related to L and N. I keep reminding myself that it is normal for L/N to not put out a lot of content of each other in the in-between periods of Bridgerton. I also remind myself we have NO idea 100% what's going on with them BTS until we get more public confirmation (which we may or may not get).

Lastly, like you mentioned anon, I feel like if NOTHING had been going on between L/N during the PR tour, they would have publicly shut down the rumors, ESPECIALLY if L was really in a serious relationship with A. However, other than that one story N posted right after Papgate calling L a great "friend", they didn't really solidly come out and clarify that what we saw wasn't more than just PR. Why?? Because it wasn't, and like you mentioned anon, they couldn't refute that. I think a lot of things about them came out publicly that they weren't exactly ready for the public to know, so they TRIED to hide behind their characters on the tour (they didn't do a super good job with that imo, but I think that's because this was a HUGE deal for them and they were HAPPY and having a hard time hiding it 😍). So they had to correct for that, which resulted in a lot of what we saw between L/N/A after the London premiere. I've talked about my thoughts on all this in my "timelines" posts, so please refer to those if you would like to know more of my thoughts on all that. HOWEVER, I think we have gotten QUITE A FEW Easter Eggs the last few days, from N especially, that hint that things are moving in a positive direction with these two 👀 I'll talk about my thoughts on that sometime tonight...

[ectonurites]

Are Tim and Cass Cain actually close in canon? Or is that more of a fanon thing that gained canon status?

Alright, so the tldr answer is that yes pre-reboot they were close—but it wasn't something that happened immediately/right off the bat, it took time, and they didn't always perfectly see eye-to-eye. But like, it's not just some totally fanon thing, they were absolutely close.

I'm using past-tense in the above though because it's like... all the actual content with them becoming/being close is pre-reboot. Anything post-reboot with them either had them back at square one (during N52 stuff) or like, just sort of handwavey 'oh they're close again' without much actual elaboration/explanation. Theoretically nowadays everything's canon again so all the old stuff applies, but as far as I'm aware nothing has really dug all that deep back into the two of them/their dynamic.

Now, to give a brief crash course on Tim & Cass's relationship in canon...

Early on they weren’t all that close because Tim was absolutely intimidated by her & her background and like, in general seemed to just find her kinda off-putting:

(Robin (1993) #73)

However Tim eventually gets over himself & after working side-by-side with her a little bit realizes he shouldn't let being intimidated by her stop them from being friends and working together:

(Batgirl (2000) #18)

After this point they work together on several occasions, definitely communicating much better than in their initial appearances together and clearly getting along well. They're a fun lil duo:

(Superman/Batman Vol. 1 #5, Superboy Vol. 4 #85)

Then… after a while, War Games happens. Gotham goes to shit, Steph dies (well, we nowadays know she didn't really, but they sure were both grieving) and so they both independently move to Blüdhaven, which leads us to the Robin/Batgirl: Fresh Blood crossover. Which has some fun little moments with them:

(Batgirl (2000) #58)

As well as some on the more tense side, as they both navigate mourning Steph and the clashes in their ideologies/approaches to hero work—the fact that Cass wants to be & be like Batman, and the fact that Tim absolutely does not:

(Batgirl (2000) #59)

After the crossover they mostly do their own thing staying out of each other's ways in Blüdhaven—though they do get another little story together in this timeframe in Batman Allies: Secret Files & Origins that sort of rehashes the above conflict during some training together & a team-up.

And we DO also get the cute (and oft-mentioned by the fandom) moment where Tim mentions she frequently breaks into his house to shower & steal rice krispies (just for clarity sake, while fandom almost exclusively calls her 'Cass' largely to avoid confusion with Cassandra 'Cassie' Sandsmark, within the comics themselves both Cassandras get called 'Cass' and 'Cassie' at various points—considering Cass is the one who lives in the same city as Tim at this point in canon, that's definitely who he's talking about here)

(Robin (1993) #138)

So like, at this point they are absolutely comfortable with one another and pretty close, but just, they don't see eye-to-eye on everything so it's not some flawless friendship (and I say friendship specifically because at this point we're still a few years out from them actually becoming siblings). But it's absolutely an interesting dynamic!

Then… after Infinite Crisis we get to the One Year Later/OYL era which is... bad for Cass. Terrible horrible character assassination we all refer to as the 'Evil Cass arc' which began in Tim's book. I don't wanna pull panels from it because it's just... it's bad!!!!!!!!!!!! There's a reason it got retconned into Cass having been brainwashed—because it was bad.

I guess the only thing worth bringing up here in relation to Tim & Cass's relationship though (because as mentioned, Cass gets retconned into it having been brainwashing so anything from her in this era is irrelevant/moot) is the fact that Tim was obviously very upset about the whole situation because Cass is someone he cares about and he even says he considers family.

To fast forward through that mess, when we get to the end of it and the 'oh it was brainwashing haha!' retcon, Tim was the one to have on hand a counter-serum that could free her from Deathstroke's control:

(Teen Titans Vol. 3 #44)

Once Cass is no longer forced to be evil and ooc, she gets a little mini at the end of which Bruce formally offers to adopt her (and Tim, who had earlier been adopted by Bruce, is present for this—so from this point on they go from a more general 'we're like family' to actually 'we are adopted siblings').

Buuuut then Final Crisis & Battle for the Cowl both occur and Cass gets extremely pushed aside by DC, giving up the Batgirl mantle to Steph and heading off to Hong Kong.

At which point we find out that Tim & Cass have actually kept in contact (just... off-panel) during this time when she's been out of Gotham and he's been off doing all sorts of stuff:

(Red Robin #17)

When they see each other in person again, Tim urges her to be a Bat again. Maybe not Batgirl if that's not what she wants, but to wear the symbol and be part of the family. (Which she does take him up on, keeping the suit he brought her and becoming Black Bat).

She pops up again at the end of Red Robin to save Tim & also help him pull off a fake assassination attempt on himself—ya know standard stuff.

And then right before the reboot we get to see them working alongside Damian and Dick in Gates of Gotham, and see one final time that yeah—these two have kept in touch after everything, and are definitely far more on one another's wavelength nowadays than they were back in the 'fresh out of War Games' era:

(Batman: Gates of Gotham #2, #5)

So like, does fanon over exaggerate them and their relationship? Aaaaabsolutely—that’s what fanon does. But they did definitely become close after everything they went through and had a fun dynamic together!

Sadly though, as I mentioned at the start of the post, the n52 wiped everything back to a clean slate. And while nowadays post-Infinite Frontier everyone’s histories have been restored their dynamic has never really been the same again.

[inexplicablepeas]

So I realized that I never shared my Blood & Gold re-read thoughts due to shadow-ban issues on the old blog, thoughts under the cut! It's long!

It was interesting to read this immediately after TVA, it really highlighted Anne's talent for developing distinct voices for her characters as the two books are so different in structure and voice. Where TVA is fevered and rambling with tonnes of evocative metaphor this is logically ordered and somewhat detached. This has none of Lestat's conspiratorial chumminess interspersed with catastrophic existential crises, none of Louis' melancholy poeticism, we're just getting straight facts from Mr Marius . So Marius' voice is a bit drier than a lot of the other narrators in the chronicles but that does feel correct and it gives the book a bit of a cosier and more chill vibe than most of the other entries. It's like story time with Marius. 

It's interesting that this one isn't framed as a book being written for publication but as a quiet and private conversation between a lonely guy and a stranger who showed up on his door step happy to listen to him. I think that makes sense for Marius, he doesn't seem like he would publish his life story, he's too private and he would probably have been more tactful land less honest about certain things if it was for publication - less interesting for us!

You do still have to read a lot of his inner journey between the lines nonetheless. He's not really telling you how he was doing day to day after he abandoned Pandora entirely (following an argument about how to deal with the emerging cult of satan worshippers) then spent centuries in Rome pretending he wasn't dying for Avicus' (and Mael's?) company while letting partying mortals have run of his house as he painted the walls subconsciously with dozens of Pandora faces... but you can imagine, he's probably not feeling great!

It was fascinating to get more detail on how he was recruited to be keeper of the parents and to see his tense arms-length relationship with Mael play out over the years. Eudoxia is a great addition to the story as brief as her time in it is and getting his version of Armand's story is very welcome (and of course interesting to contrast with Armand's telling). Getting more Bianca was also welcome, she's such a big presence in TVA, I liked getting Marius' perspective there. 

I've got some of the same kind of complaints I had with TVA about what was left out. I guess that structuring a life story that spans millenia is no easy task and it's inevitable that some stuff is gonna get left out. Anne probably didn't want to rehash the same events form different perspectives over and over again but I really was disappointed that the narrative doesn't touch on his thoughts on his reunion with Armand in QotD, the brief Night Island coven times, how Daniel came to be in his care (???), his reaction to Armand's suicide attempt (!?), how was it that he and Santino ended up being the team on clean up duty together for that anyway (???), his reaction to learning that Armand was in fact alive(!) and his subsequent turning of Benji and Sybelle.

Marius:

And Pandora of course, I hadn't read her book at the time of reading this so I was disappointed about how little detail we get on the centuries they spent together. You can imagine his motivations for leaving a lot of this stuff out, it seems that some things are still too painful to talk about and he is also telling a specific story to a specific audience here (to influence a particular outcome, perhaps? *squints suspiciously at Marius*) so it makes sense for him to brush over or leave some things out entirely but it's not always the most satisfying result for a reader that's already invested in these characters and their stories.

The framing device with Thorne is great, I can't emphasize enough how immediately I fell in love with this guy, this stoic but sensitive viking titan of a vampire. I found the final chapter to be the most exciting really, I guess because where most of the story is Marius explaining from his perspective why he's alone (apart from Daniel who doesn't count because he's too obsessed with his model cities, sorry Daniel!), it's all a foregone conclusion where we're heading and we know what happens to most of the major characters but once we get back to Thorne's contemporary POV hey, anything can happen! And thanks to Thorne, stuff does happen! He's kind of the MVP of this book. We also get a teeny bit of Daniel in the framing chapters at the start of the book and hey, it's nice to see him alive and still sassy, if a little worse for wear.

Overall I find it a pretty enjoyable vampire chronicle. I do love the lore of Anne's vampire universe, how rich it is both with historical details and with her own world building and Marius is, of course, very key to it as guardian of the parents for millennia, so I do want to know everything about him and I'm glad this book was written to give us more of his story. His chronicle of his very lonely life, caused in no small part by his own stubbornness and terror of losing control is sad and often frustrating but I did find all of it a compelling read. He's a very strange guy and it really is fascinating to get more of his perspective, even if he doesn't quite have the zazz of a Lestat or the poetry of a Louis.

[lambcow]

My Plan for the Upcoming Twilight TV Show so that it's actually Good

I heard recently that they're doing a Twilight TV show. The rights are out there at the very least. Who knows when it will happen and what network will produce it where, but it's going to happen.

But here's my thing - they're going to do it wrong if they do it the way I think they will, which is anything like the timeline of the Books/Movies. As a hardcore Twilight fan (yes I'll admit it, I spent a long time in fandom as a preteen, okay? It was my first online fandom and the first fanfiction that I wrote) I have Opinions(TM) about how to make the show in a way that would make it interesting. Stephanie Meyer had interesting ideas and I stand by this! There's a lot of untapped potential in the series and I think if they did it right it could be a really, really cool show! But there's not much going on if we just rehash the same events of the books over again at an episodic level.

No.

I present to you, not the TV show "Twilight", but the TV show "Cullens", which starts off with Carlisle Cullen as he has come to America when he finally starts to build his Coven.

This is NOT the story of whiny Bella Swan and her falling in love with Edward and becoming a vampire over 4 books or 5 movies, but rather the story of a man who has already spent over two centuries as a vampire, struggling because of his love for humanity as he finds purpose and meaning as he builds his family. We follow his story as he collects his coven.

We truly open on the show when Carlisle finds Edward dying of Spanish Influenza and decides to turn him for humanity's sake because he would die and because he as a man is lonely and this boy is so young, only 17, and Edward's mother begs him to do whatever he can to save her son and who knows, maybe Carlisle's been watching him and he sees him like a son already too. Maybe we get flashbacks to Carlisle with the Volturi for those 20 years he stayed with them in Italy back in the early 1700s, who knows. The fact of the matter is, that Carlisle is a doctor at the hospital where Edward is, and for whatever reason that we as an audience are compelled to understand in this first and important episode is Carlisle is finally done being alone and craves family and Edward resembles that for whatever reason, so Carlisle gives in and turns him. The next several episodes are an arc about their relationship as we deal with newborn Edward. We know how hard it is to adjust to being newly turned. After he calms down, Edward then has to confront his mortality and that of his family, we see him start to remember his family and confront those memories. More flashbacks to the Volturi as Carlisle explains what being a vampire is to Edward etc.

We follow the pair then as they travel around with the cover story that Edward is Carlisle's nephew. It's three years later when Esme enters the picture. What we know already is she attempted suicide and Carlisle turned her to save her - and that they have history since Carlisle treated her for a broken leg some ten years prior when she was 16 years old. Fast forward to now and she's gone through an abusive marriage where she ran away from her husband several times, most recently after getting pregnant, and has just lost her baby due to a lung fever. At her wit's end with all of it, Carlisle finds her after she jumps off a cliff attempting to end her life. They end up falling in love and getting married after she is turned. That's several episodes I'm sure. GREAT ARC. But Esme struggles with blood lust, which is a great transition into the conversation for what happens just a few years later with Edward...

We can tie more vampire politics into the show (especially the Volturi into it) when Edward goes through his Ripper phase when he decides he doesn't want to drink animal blood like Carlisle teaches him. The two fight but what can Carlisle do? Maybe there are other vamps around as well to cause extra drama. Who knows? It is a TV show, after all. He goes off on his own and that's a whole plot. I'm sure the network could find some interesting ways to make this dramatic for a few episodes and keep enough plot points alive. Add in some new OC's and side characters. Remember the Denali clan? When do they start being formed? There's not a lot of context on them, just that they're close with The Cullen's. Maybe we get some of their story and interaction here. Maybe Sasha (the original leader who was killed by the Volturi for creating an immortal child) reaches out to Carlisle at some point near the beginning and this is when they all become vegetarian vampires together before the whole Denali clan is formed too.

Fast forward to when that arc is resolved. Edward is back with Carlisle and Esme and the peace is back. Now, we get Rosalie... Now, the thing with Carlisle, is he doesn't turn people just to turn people. He's very moralistic. We learn that all the time about his character. I'm sure our little trio has traveled on from Chicago and is in New York where they encounter Rosalie Hale who was assaulted nearly to death by her husband and all his buddies. Carlisle is somewhat of a matchmaker here and hopes Rosalie and Edward can keep each other company for their immortal lives... it makes me wonder what episode and background we can throw into the show here. Did Carlisle know this girl in any other capacity? Why are his dad senses tingling about Rosalie anyway? That's gotta be an arc.

Anyway, turns out Rosalie is not only not interested in Edward, but she's only really interested in staying with the Cullens because being alone forever would get lonely, so she stays with them... but that's after her revenge arc because Rosalie Hale is a certified Bad Ass. She goes after her Fiance and all his Dude Bros and takes them all out, and I can just imagine her executing this flawlessly as a vamp. I do wonder if Edward reads her mind about her plans and asks if he can help her, though. Eventually, she gives in and it's Sibling Bonding(TM) at its finest. It's this bonding that convinces Rosalie to stay with the Cullens after all, and that's that.

Next, we get Emmett. Now, this is a fun one! Because we get Emmett who starts pining over the gorgeous Rosalie Hale when they move to this new place. I'm not sure it says where they are, but I digress. Do we have a bit of the Bella/Edward vibes here? Are there warnings of "don't let the human close"? Is this around the time when we've just had the Denali arc and are reminded of the human child being killed? Is Carlisle having flashbacks? What is the drama? Make it interesting, TV people! Is Edward mad that Rosalie is flirting back? Is it harmless? Who. Knows. -- But then, it doesn't matter because Emmett is getting mauled by a bear in the woods and... wait, why is Rosalie even there? Why does she even find him? Hmmm, seems like she's following him around protectively ;) well- whatever the reason and drama, Emmett is near dead and she saves him and brings him to Carlisle to be turned. The reactions of the coven... the reactions of the town, of his family, of his friends, the drama. Make it interesting, once again, people! This is TV gold! It's cliches and everything you want for TV, c'mon! And then, of course, since they were already practically in love already, they really can be together, but now they have to leave because Emmett is supposedly dead and the Cullens are complicit in that for some reason too perhaps. So they get out of dodge and where do they go now?

If you guessed Forks, Washington, you're right. It's the first time and it's time to get into the legends and deal with The Wolves(TM). It's all about the Quiluetes and it's time to make a treaty with The Pack(TM). Ephraim Black is Jacob's great-grandfather and the leader of the tribe. Whoooa boy. I can think of sooooo much they can do with this,. And just how long do the Cullens stay in Forks the first time around? It's a whole arc. Maybe it's a season. We get some good wolf content. We get some pack dynamics. It's great. We get some beef between Rosalie and the wolves maybe, because there's obvious dislike between her and the wolves later and it's gotta be for a reason more than just their smell, I know it. So, several episodes there. Maybe even some fighting. I know it ends with a treaty, but that's not easily won. Maybe it's Rosalie they found first and one of the wolves attacked her before they were able to make talks for peace. Yeah. I can see this season being really fun.

So, after all that goes down, maybe there's something with the Volturi? Something with the Denali? They do end up staying with the Denali Coven for a time. Maybe they go somewhere else for a little while after they've overstayed their welcome in Forks. Sometime around the 1940s they leave. During the 1950s Jasper and Alice wander upon them and at this point, I fully believe we would get a several-episode arc of Jasper's origin story with the Civil War and the Newborn Army - but they've gotta make it interesting somehow, so there's gotta be a parallel conflict in the timeline that makes it relevant, like I keep saying, make it interesting. Who knows where the Cullens are living right now at this point, but there's crazy everywhere and they're vampires they're practically magnates for danger and chaos. Make something up. Family drama, vampire drama, whatever you need. Where are more of those OCs. And don't forget! We have all the covens and vampires from the battle in Breaking Dawn that we can draw on at ANY point in the show for extra vampires to make any of this interesting as well! Make. It. Make. Sense. How does Carlisle know everyone all the time??? Add spice, add interest, and make the Cullens well-connected in a way that makes sense!

Once we get through Jasper's origin story, we get how he and Alice met, which of course is that Alice saw him in a vision. Alice is such a fun character.

And what do they do in the interim 60 years until Bella? Um, not really sure, but we can find some filler or we can time skip. Not like we haven't been doing that anyway. I also have this vague idea that the whole first few seasons are vaguely a la How I Met Your Mother where they're always telling the story to Bella or Renesmee or someone anyway -- oooh telling the story to Ren would be cute actually... that has potential. Grandpa Cullen telling his granddaughter about how all the family got together. That's adorable, whether you like Renesmee as a character or not. Tell me I'm wrong... Anyway, so then maybe it's like, "So what about mom?" or something and we jump to the actual plot of the Twilight books.

But we don't just get the Twilight books, we get the full in-depth. We get the shifters in La Push full with Emily and Sam and Quil, Embry and Jake, and Paul and all the bois, we get the whole story from Bree Tanner on the side as that develops. We get random check-ins with the Denali clan, because that's relevant! We get Edward's perspective on things as well when he meets Bella and how he runs away to the Denali clan because he's dead lusting for her blood! We get complex feelings and all the arguments about it! We get Rosalie and Edward fighting because isn't she being hypocritical about Bella?

We get the Volturi and more drama from the throne room as they learn about the Cullens and their drama just like we have been following Volturi drama on and off all series long. We know the personalities of Caius and Marcus and their dynamic with Aro. We've already heard the origin story of Jane and Alec and we know how brutal the terror twins are. We get the Volturi women Sulpicia, Athenedora, Chelsea, Heidi, and Renata. Don't even get me started on Demitri and Felix and my headcanon of their epic friendship. So, yeah, Volturi stuff.

All of it comes to a head at the final battle in Breaking Dawn just like we know but with so much more meaning than ever before because of the rich history we have from seasons upon seasons of "The Cullens" or "Cullen" or whatever you end up calling this show. It's amazing, it's beautiful, we've laughed, we've cried, we've become a family over and over again and Carlisle has a family and this is his family and he is happy.

Will they make it like this? Probably freaking not, but this is my one request to the universe. Don't make a "Twilight" TV show. Make a "Cullen" TV show.

Please.

[moon-huny]

Feel Your Power - ScareActor!Buggy

CW: My content is not for anyone under 18. Minors DNI. cursing, p in v sex, afab reader, dom!Buggy, sub!Reader that type of dynamic at least

Word Count: 2.7K

Summary: Caleb and Blake throw a Halloween party at their place and a certain guest makes an appearance.

A/N: Ayo, this one is half the length of the original. But it is because I'll have a little epilogue published later on. I am still a bit eepy, but thank you all for your patience and understanding that this weekend was a much needed break from looking at a computer screen.

Happy Kinktober. Okay, that's all, enjoy.

Read Part One The Midnight Hour

“Come on, tell us more about him.”

“Yea, (Y/N), I want to hear every. single. detail.”

You, Lete and Marnie were curled up together on the couch at Caleb’s place – Marnie practically on Lete’s lap. The soft lights around the room reflected in shades of red, blue, green and orange. 

Though Blake and Caleb’s apartment wasn’t huge, they somehow managed to get quite a crowd packed into the small space. The two had been friends since diapers and you’re pretty sure they were third cousins … or shared a step mom … or some other miscellaneous familial thing that was hard to explain.

Marnie was Carrie this year. Her pretty pink slip dress was covered in blood as well as her forehead and neck. The tiara she wore was just a smidge too big and she’d had to readjust the sparkly headpiece all night yet refused to take it off since it would “ruin her look.”

Lete went with a classic Patrick Batemen costume. She had pulled her old school wired headphones down around her neck in the same place a little red tie hung. She wore a cute mini-skirt and suit-jacket combo with a clear raincoat covered in blood to complete the look.

You were a bit spooky last year in your Sally from Nightmare Before Christmas get up. This year, however, you’d decided to go full Halloween glam opting for the ever popular mermaid costume.

“I think he was just Caleb’s weird friend,” you said, brushing off the conversation. “He didn’t even give me his number or contact or name. I really can’t imagine we’d meet again much less … well you get it.”

This was not your first time talking about Buggy since the night of the haunt visit. You had rehashed the story over and over to Lete, Marnie and Blake after they asked where you’d gone on the way home and Caleb just had to open his mouth. 

Granted you only told the story in summary, but still your friends were so intrigued with the idea that some mystery man was on your mind 24/7.

“Why would you be so sure about that?” asked Marnie.

“Yea! Why not ask Caleb for his number or snap or something?” said Lete, exasperated with the fact you refused to make any moves when it came to a guy you were clearly obsessed over.

“Because, I am of the firm belief that when someone says ‘See ya next Halloween’ they aren’t exactly looking for a relationship.” You retort.

It wasn’t like you didn’t want to see him again, just that the idea of getting your hopes up for a guy in this economy was like putting all your chips on 23. You might spin the roulette wheel and win big or you might spend all your money gambling.

It was just then you felt a presence flop onto the empty space on the couch beside you.

“How you feeling tonight, sea queen?” said a very stupidly drunk Caleb dressed as the horror classic Ghostface. “Do you three know that Blake is in the kitchen right now absolutely cleaning house at beer pong? I lost *bur* so many times.”

Blake, dressed as a very glamorous Freddy Kruger, was in fact impeccable at most drinking games. Part of the reason why you and the two lovers decided that, unless you wanted to be face down on the floor, it was best to avoid Blake’s winning rampage until they got bored.

“We told you not to play with them Caleb,” said Lete.

“Hey, (Y/N),” said Caleb, hooking onto you like a backpack. “Trick or treat?”

“You smell like a bar, go eat something and drink a glass of water.” You replied. You were only slightly worried about your friend knowing full well that this was just how he was. A total flirt and a massive drinker.

“Answer my question, Little Mermaid,” he spoke into your ear. “Trick or Treat?”

You rolled your eyes, “I don’t know Caleb, treat?”

Expecting, at worst, a kiss on the cheek or, at best, another seltzer shoved into your hand you did not see it coming when he grabbed your head, rotated it 90 degrees to the left, and pointed out none other than the man who had haunted your dreams for the past week.

There he was plain as day on the other side of the room, only, he didn’t look like he had that night. He wasn’t even wearing a costume. No wonder you didn’t notice him.

Your eyes went wide and your deepest fears came true. He was a real, tangible person and he could potentially think you aren’t worth his time. All of your memories came flooding back to you. All of the super hot moments you shared in the moment began to color in your mind a deep shade of shame and embarrassment. You felt a hand reach over and touch your knee.

“Whatever you are thinking right now,” said Lete. “I need you to know you are the hottest person in the room.”

“Hey!” said Marnie.

“I’m in love with you, it doesn’t count,” Lete said back in an even tone.

“She’s right though, (Y/N) you look great and I am sure he’ll be happy to see you.” Marnie said, confidence in her girlfriend restored.

Eyes still wide in terror at the potential scenarios, he finally turned in your direction. You knew that had to have been your fault. Why is it that people can feel you looking at them? Getting up you swiftly ran into the kitchen.

Pushing past the tight knit cluster of bodies your eyes landed on Blake at the dinner table under soft green light.

“Yo! (Y/N)! Come watch me destroy these losers at this game,” They shouted to you.

If you hadn’t been on a mission to be anywhere but here, you would have called on Blake to stop bullying the other party goers. But these were different circumstances.

“Can I go up to your room for a bit?” you asked quietly so as not to draw attention to yourself while the other team set up their cups. 

Blake got a more serious tone, “yea dude of course. You good?”

“Yep. I’m fine, just need some quiet.”

“Okay, know where to go?”

“Yes, be down in a lil.”

And off you went, down the hall and toward the stairs. 

That is, until a certain someone had to get in your way.

“If you’re avoiding me that is totally okay just say the word and I’ll walk away and leave you alone. But parties aren’t really my thing and I came here tonight to see you so give me one sec?”

There were people all around you yelling over one another and in the small hallway. You really didn’t want to have to yell either. Plus, now that you had plotted a course for the quietness of Blake’s room you were hellbent on going there.

“Okay yea, come on.” You grabbed his wrist in your hand and pulled him up the stairs.

Reaching your friend's room and shutting the door, you turned around to see a somewhat flustered man behind you.

“You know I am more than happy to do whatever you want right now, but I kinda wanted to take a moment to talk beforehand if that’s okay?”

You were confused for a moment but when it all finally registered you let out a loud HA!

“Oh my god, I am so sorry,” you said. “No, I just got overwhelmed with the crowd.”

“Oh! So we aren’t fucking right now? Okay no, that’s cool.” He tried to play it off.

“It’s cool?” you questioned.

“Well I mean it would be cool if we were about to fuck. No, shit sorry I wanted to talk to you for a minute.”

Someone tell you why you were preparing for the worst.

“I wanted to say that what happened between us was ridiculously unprofessional. I am so sorry and I know we both had a good time – or at least I assume we both did – I don’t want you to feel like I was out to take advantage of you. 

I mean I was cause you're incredibly hot and I would take advantage of you all night long if you let me but, shit okay, what I am trying to say is I hope I’m not some douchebag.”

You weren’t sure if you should take the apology or laugh. He seemed so genuine and it kinda melted your heartstrings a little. 

“You know,” you started. “I was a little worried you thought the same thing about me. I was super worried that you thought I was just using you for my own twisted sexual fantasy and that you never wanted to see me ever again.”

“Well I don’t want that,” he said. Genuine expression never leaving his face.

“Likewise.”

“So,” he made a few steps toward you, pinning you against the door with his body. “Why don’t you go ahead and tell me what you want.”

////

Kneeling before him, you’d been working on sucking his gorgeous cock into your mouth for the last handful of minutes. He gripped your hair in his fist and softly guided you down and around him listening to your little moans and gasps for air every time he stalled himself at the back.

“That’s a good feeling baby. I like feeling your little throat constrict around me. Almost feels just as good as that pussy.”

In only a few moments after you exchanged words was he able to work you into a pliant obedient putty in the palm of his hand. You could feel yourself getting wetter with every one of his praises coupled with the mean little things he would do to your body.

His words caused you to moan around him which in turn made him buck up into your mouth to chase that vibration.

“God, princess you suck this dick like a fuckin champ.” He started to work into you faster chasing that high and feeling himself get closer to snapping.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck. Okay!” He pulled you off of him and looked down at your stunning eyes, glazed over with desire and more than a little confidence with how quickly he was about to bust.

“You’re dangerous.” He looked down at you wiggling your ass in the air on all fours while he held his heavy cock in his hand.

The little giggle you let out coupled with his hand lightly squeezing down around the base of his shaft made Buggy feel like he’d died and gone to heaven.

He climbed down onto the floor beside you leaning against the bed frame. Both of you decided that to use Blake’s room was fine, but to have sex on their bed was a whole nother level of ‘don't-go-there.’

“Get right up close to me, pretty girl.” he said into your ear.

He sat you in between his legs so you were in his lap and spread out for him. Your hair and makeup was still elaborately done while the only thing you were left wearing was a pair of aquamarine colored lace underwear.

Your head turned to look at him over your shoulder. His hand found its way under your chin and guided you to meet his lips. His kiss was just as you remembered it. Warm and gentle and it made you feel like you were walking on air.

But then it turned darker, as it always does with him – like sailing into a storm. His kiss grew hungry, he bit down on your lower lip and you’d be lying if you said your tongues fought for any sort of dominance. He was the one to win, to take.

As he kissed you, his hands came up to your chest. His fingers quickly found your nipples and made slow soft circles while he kissed you. The little motions that Buggy made on the raised flesh of your breasts was the exact kind of motion he knew would feel oh so good just a bit lower at a different little bud.

The movements he made sent socks of pleasure straight to where you needed him to touch the most. And yet, Buggy refused to move any lower, opting instead to launch a full assault on your tits. But, what’s the harm in begging?

“Please, daddy,” you whined out. “Can you rub my clit like this, please.”

You used the nickname he liked and spoke as directly as possible. That ought to get you some brownie points, right?

“You little slut,” he said between breaths as his lips continued to dance with your own in a teasing way. “You need to learn some patience. I bet you’ll feel really good if I make you wait longer.”

The plan backfired.

“Feel what you do to me?” He asked. his cock jumping against your back at every moan and keen your let out. “You make me so hard it’s painful. I haven’t been able to stop thinking about you since that night. The way you cried out for me and all those nasty little thoughts you shared.”

He was beginning to turn you on past the point of no return. You tried to touch yourself for some relief, but Buggy had slapped your hand away. 

“Every night I’d dream about these tits and that tight little cunt. I’d have to pull on my cock every night just to have some peace.”

You wanted him to touch you, but all you could do while he played with you was rock your hips into the air and beg for more.

“Oh? Is baby feeling needy? You want daddy’s fingers in your pussy. You want me to rub your little clit till you come, s’at it?”

You nodded furiously, the feeling of his hard length pressing into your back made you picture all of the delicious ways he could stretch you out on it. 

“I want your cock now, please.” You could feel how sopping wet you were through your underwear.

At this point, Buggy was not inclined to say no. After edging himself in your mouth and now having you ask so sweetly for him to fuck you, there was no time to spare.

Turning around to straddle him, he hooked his finger around your lace panties and pulled his finger through your folds. He let out a groan at how wet you had gotten with just a little nipple play. It was like you’d never been touched before.

While he didnt take the time to stretch you out on his fingers – nor had he gotten you to cum yet – Buggy knew deep down that you were about to be so unbelievably tight. Sure, it might hurt you a little bit, but that feeling was about to be amazing.

You lowered yourself down onto him, but were met with some resistance. Even just the feeling of his tip nestled inside you made you want to push through the discomfort and just feel him already.

“You’re doing so good for me, my good girl, want you to cum on this cock and make this cock cum.”

His words were plenty to spur you on. Ignoring the stretch, you sunk down onto him and felt your eyes flutter shut.

“Yea, holy fuck, that feels so good baby. Can you feel that sweet cunt squeezing me?”

With that you started moving. Slowly up and down at first, but your confidence got the better of you and allowed for much deeper and faster movements.

Every stroke or so, he would whimper, whine, or let out some other form of gorgeous noise that would make you want more.

Soon you both began to approach your high. The string in your belly began to tighten until all of a sudden it snapped.

“Oh fuuucckk, yea yea that’s my girl. That’s my pretty girl. Good girls cum just like this, my girl cums just like this. Let me fuck you baby, I’m not done. You want daddy to finish don't you? You wanna feel my cum in you right?”

Completely dumb on his cock you just nod your head and allow him to finish inside of you. He cums with a growl and a deathgrip on your hips.

Epilogue Coming Soon

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧✩₊˚

taglist: @max-505 @kurinhimenezu

[infinitelystrangemachinex]

streaming tv is like the fantasy/fiction need for a mid list. big money thrown at projects expecting that big money can make anything too big to fail, when the reality is that there’s only so much profit to make in an oversaturated market and only so many properties that can be the number one most popular thing at a time, but no matter how many projects fail or how variable the quality of the art is, it’s never going to be acceptable again to shore up most of your projects with only SOME money and letting that “mid list” find longlasting audiences that provide your baseline business

i wish both streaming tv and the publishing industry would spend less money on more projects that cultivate good writing. i want good writing and long projects to get invested in so bad that i'm caring less and less for production

my thesis statement is that tv shows are being canceled because they cost too much money. a mid list would have saved most canceled shows. higher production costs don't mean better writing, and lower production costs don't mean worse writing

the publishing industry is asking for shorter fantasy books and is canceling series and leaving authors behind because it is throwing all its money at shiny new things that are not actually new and don't stick

all of this without investment in a "mid list" to keep baseline profits coming or to keep a foundation of writers paid and busy

if companies spent less money on shows, would they last longer? would they hone writers' skills more? does this extend to animation where the budgets are so much smaller? or is there no world where i could get multiple 25-episode seasons of arcane and i'm just deluding myself

fantasy books especially have had an oversaturation problem for years, but the biggest problem is an over-reliance on debuts without investment in originality or in authors’ futures. what this looks like is big money thrown at marketing shiny debuts or at a subset of the old familiar faces in fantasy that established themselves before the shift in industry mindset. everyone else either gets scraps or can’t find their footing after their debut. you either go viral somehow or you go home. to make money, the only acceptable projects are generic or are recognizable rehashes of previously popular but specific ideas. fantasy is considered a popular genre now, but in my opinion, fantasy has never stopped being niche, but the need to find bigger audiences and bigger investment has resulted in pushing fantasy series that don't do anything new or interesting and actively spurn good prose, but can appeal to as many people as possible (instead of weird fantasy freaks, aka me, i'm freaks, now most of the freaky fantasy i can find is in video games and a single tear is rolling down my face)

now tv. buffy the vampire slayer cost about 1-2 million per episode. star trek tng cost 1 million per episode

look where we’re at with streaming services. tv shows that cost millions and tens of millions of dollars per episode. the sopranos redefined what prestige tv meant and it cost 2-6 million per episode. chasing the new prestige mindset, game of thrones started out at 6 million per episode. today, early game of thrones’ budget from about 2011-2013 is joked about like it’s chump change, especially for game of thrones or hbo. but prestige tv reeled in that subscriber money. the streaming model today is the continuation of the prestige tv model, except that every show needs to be prestige, no matter the audience or genre or story structure. because prestige tv made money

now that the baseline model for helping your subscription/channel make money is to throw 6 million+ per episode, it's no longer a mystery why seasons are getting shorter and shorter. and the demand for higher and higher production will only mean that shows take longer and longer to make

netflix shelled out 6 million per episode - what an oddly familiar number, huh? - for stranger things season 1. season 4 cost 30 million per episode

wheel of time season 1: 10 million per episode. rings of power season 1: 58 million per episode. these are adaptations btw, not original IPs, but this is SEASON ONE money you’re looking at. i liked both rings of power and wheel of time decently, but my hot take is that both of these shows are under-written and over-produced. why so much money thrown at projects with writers at the helm who are inexperienced in the fantasy genre? rings of power in particular is bank-breaking and it was originally planned to run for several seasons

the mandalorian season 1: 15 million per episode. andor season 1: 20 million per episode. the acolyte season 1: 22 million per episode

remember that the subscription model requires subscribers to make money and requires NEW subscribers to satisfy the hunger for growth, and star wars is a single IP with established fans. the mandalorian, andor, and the acolyte all took major risks in different ways. the mandalorian actually fell back on star wars fundamentals (rather than being something net new in my opinion) and its risk was in being a show, not a movie, and the first of its kind on streaming for star wars

andor could be the riskiest fantasy/sci-fi show to hit streaming, ever. 12 episodes for season 1 that cost 250 million overall, not 6-8, explores marxist themes, and did not pull in new subscribers. what popularity it does have is purely due to word-of-mouth and plain old good writing, rather than marketing or by simply being part of star wars. it was originally going to be 5 seasons but is now going to be 2 because... 250 million dollars is a lot to spend on one season of television that didn't make you a lot of money. simple as that, even if andor is the best live-action thing disney has produced in decades in my opinion

the acolyte season 1 was 8 episodes and cost 22 million per episode, which armchair critics on social media are stating is the reason why the show has been canceled. haters will just say it was canceled because of bad writing, and fans are saying it was because of review-bombing and the diversity of the cast and crew

i disagree on some level that the acolyte is the first star wars show to be canceled, because again, andor was going to be 5 seasons and is now going to be 2, losing over 50% of the original story. even fans of the acolyte will agree that its writing wasn't the best. most fans who have seen andor will agree that it is the best-written star wars media ever on par with the best episodes of clone wars. both shows brought me over to disney plus when no other show or movie did

but in effect, both shows have been canceled

my take is that if a mid list existed, both shows should have been on it. they are part of an established IP with established fans who were going to watch the shows no matter what. most people with star wars fatigue would not have heard about the uniqueness of these shows until later and would have probably picked them up by their finales or by their season 2s

if they were not star wars properties and were original stories instead, both of these shows were still fairly unique doing things that appeal to "weird" subsets of sci-fi/fantasy fans. the mid list would have been perfect either way

i firmly believe that a mid list would have saved both of these shows. 6 million per episode MAXIMUM. ideally less. not because i dislike either show, but because i care about writing above all else. pay 1 writers room a fair wage and let them go fucking nuts for a few seasons. as long as everyone else in the production is being paid a fair and living wage, i don't care how little is spent on the show

stranger things should have been a mid-list anthology series that ran forever, wheel of time should have been a mid-list tv fantasy with at least 12 episodes per season to do any justice to those massive books but also to pay homage to the book series' roots as high fantasy that goes on and on without much of a plan and with often mid and sometimes junky writing but with appeal in that it was long-running, made readers familiar with the same characters every book for many hundreds of pages each, and is something of a comfort read now for many fans

i think that reality is catching up to streaming services and things are going to get worse before they get better

but i also think that the next "evolution" of tv should be the return of the mid list

[circledemptiness]

Can't Get You Out Of My Head – Chapter 2

Fandom: Batman (Arkham Knight) Pairing: Edward Nigma (The Riddler) x Reader Rating: Explicit +18 Tags: Angst, Romance

Your mind spirals into painful memories of your last encounter with Edward, unearthing emotions you thought were buried for good. But when an unexpected turn of events disturbs the dreadful routine in Arkham, you might just see an opportunity to exorcise your demons.

✦ Chapter index ✦ Read on AO3

Hey Eddie, you’ve been inside my mind.

Dinner time at Arkham Asylum mirrors every other meal: chaotic, messy, sad, terrifying –or, on rare occasions, oddly calm. Tonight happens to be one of those calmer evenings, which you’re grateful for; it helps make up for the meal itself –not bad, not great. Tonight, it’s mashed potatoes, boiled vegetables, something resembling meat, and even some applesauce. Dennis coos happily as he swallows his plate, blabbering about his day and how the weather was nice enough for a walk in the courtyard. You promise you’ll go for a walk with him tomorrow, and the fucker smiles with the brighteness of a thousand suns.

While Dennis rambles on, you exchange a glance with the woman across from you. Her eyes are as hollow as yours, her hair a tangled mess that could pass for a bird's nest. You’re not even sure what her name is (Carol? Carmen? Catherine?) –nobody ever uses it. She absentmindedly drags her spoon through the mashed potatoes, tracing aimless shapes without ever taking a bite. As you swallow a spoonful of applesauce, you nod in her direction, gesturing toward her untouched plate with a tilt of your chin –a small, polite gesture to ask what’s up with her. You don’t actually care, not really, but you also don’t want to be anywhere near her if she has another one of her glorious meltdowns, hurling her tray and screaming bloody murder.

“Therapy day” she mutters under her breath with a disdainful sniff, and you nod again, a quiet understanding passing between you.

What is your relationship with Edward Nigma?

You’ve grown to passionately loathe therapy in Arkham. It never feels genuine –more like the doctors would rather dig into old wounds than truly help. After all, you're not one of Gotham’s most wanted criminals; you doubt your profile truly interests them. Thus, at best, therapy only touches scars you’d rather leave alone; at worst, it just adds more fuel to the fire of your criminal case. Maybe you're just exhausted from telling the same story over and over, recounting the absurd chain of bad luck and even worse decisions that landed you here. You’re not particularly fond of constantly hearing your own words, rehashing the tale of your failures.

Were you in love with Edward Nigma?

Your spoon scrapes against the plate as you finish eating, the sound cutting through the fog of your thoughts. Your expression hardens, brow furrowing as you stare at your empty tray, almost as if the leftover gravy could reveal the answer to a mysterious question you haven’t even formed yet. Or perhaps it’s taunting you, a remark left unsaid in the grease. Bird nest lady nods, and you shrug in response. You just want to go to fucking bed, you tell her.

“One of these days, uh?” she asks with a knowing grimace. Yeah, one of these days. 

There’s a special connection among the inmates of Arkham, well, among those who haven't completely lost their minds or forgotten their own names –the ones who still hold onto the hope of leaving this wretched place someday. You all understand how these walls suck the life out of you; you all feel like forgotten pieces of a puzzle no one cares to play with anymore, as if Gotham has draped a rug over you, pretending they never failed you in the first place. You’re almost resigned to the idea of rotting away; at times, you truly feel like there is no fight left within you, only bitterness and anger. It’s a particular sentiment that you also see in Carol’s eyes (fuck, is it Carol?), with her disheveled hair and darkened eyes that seem to scream “burn the world, burn it all down”.

Somehow, finding a semblance of companionship here, built on a foundation of mutual acknowledgment and understanding, soothes your nerves. You don’t need to explain yourself or feel any shame, no matter how broken you are. It makes counting the days, weeks, months, years easier. Helps keep your mind from drifting too far into thoughts about your life, the reasons that brought you here, about him.

Hey Eddie, I still can’t get you out of my head.

At some point, you could sense that something was breaking, cracking, within Edward when he started developing feelings for you –or at least, the nearest thing to what he might perceive as feelings. You can’t pinpoint the exact moment his façade started to truly crumble or what kind of anguish twisted in his gut, nor can you fully grasp the passion that stirred in his heart. All you know is that he resented it deeply, absolutely loathed being the victim of his own heart. For someone like him, emotions were probably a sign of weakness, a crack in the armor that he meticulously polished. Losing control over any given situation was something unbearable, perfectly unacceptable; the Riddler had to maintain total dominance at all times.

You wonder if he ever realized that this need for control is what ultimately kept him trapped in a cycle of loneliness, unable to embrace the very thing he craved the most; connection, intimacy, tenderness…

The most peculiar thing is that you’ve actually seen through the cracks of his vulnerability and caught a glimpse of an almost lovable man, deeply hidden beneath layers of bravado and utter arrogance; perhaps because you were yourself a creature of deep empathy, for better or worse. Or maybe it was because you weren’t as stable as you once believed –perhaps they were right to lock you in here after all. Though, as the days stretched into weeks, when you finally stopped showering him with undeserved love and care, the way he looked at you began to shift. Looking through his eyes, you sincerely couldn’t tell whether he absolutely loathed your guts or wanted to fuck and defile you with an almost primal urgency on the nearest surface.

You probably mirrored his gaze, though yours held more nuances –an unspoken asterisk that suggested a deeper layer beneath the surface. It doesn’t have to be this way, you wanted to tell him. Just let me in. What was he so afraid of?

Until the very end, you held the naive hope that there might be a happy ending to your internal struggles. The sheer tension between you two was palpable, a volatile mixture of warmth flickering in his eyes and biting insults thrown your way whenever you made a mistake. It only seemed to escalate, growing more intense with each encounter, until it only felt inevitable that something would eventually break and explode. 

You often imagined that it would end with you bent over a desk, surrendering to him completely as he passionately rearranged your insides, and, somehow, you would have genuinely accepted it.

If it meant he would finally be honest with himself, you would have accepted anything. Then, you could reveal the layers of hurt and confusion that plagued him. You could have worked from here, together. You could have taught him love –how to embrace vulnerability instead of shying away from it. You could have healed the wounds he had carried for so long, could have given him the tenderness and adoration that his life always lacked. You wanted to be the one to help him piece himself back together.

God, you’re so fucking stupid.

It’s always the worst when bedtime arrives and the lights go out. Sometimes, in the oppressive silence, you can hear one of the other inmates screaming or sobbing in the distance, haunted by their own nightmares, traumas, and fears. On your first night here, you were one of them –crying like a baby into your pathetic excuse for a pillow. Everything was so new to you, and everything hurt. But now, when the room is somewhat quiet and enveloped in darkness, you find yourself alone with your thoughts, and that’s the worst part.

You try the stupid breathing exercises the psychiatrist taught you, filling your mind with happy thoughts; do you even have any left? They quickly dissolve into a gray miasma, a swirling fog of anxiety and despair that seems to leak directly from your brain. Each breath feels heavier, and you wonder if there will ever be a time when the darkness outside doesn’t mirror the turmoil inside. In this stillness, you fight and struggle against the weight of your memories, the shadows creeping in, reminding you that peace feels painfully out of reach.

Eddie?

It was a night like any other, cold and damp, as you helped him with different tasks in the sewers beneath Gotham. The air down there was heavy and thick, carrying the familiar, pungent stench of decay and rot, but you’d grown so used to it that you barely noticed it, and even welcomed it, somehow. It’s a scent that sometimes reminded you of him. It was familiar now, it was comforting.

The narrow corridor where you stood stretched into an abyss of darkness, lit only by the occasional flicker of a dusty old lamp casting long, eerie shadows on the glistening, grimy walls. You could hear the distant rush of water trickling through the old tunnels, mixing with the faint hum of the busy city above you.

Tonight, you and Edward were installing an elaborate system of neon green lights, a perfect match for his obsession with branding everything he touched. His signature shade of green now bled into this hidden labyrinth, a domain he just claimed as his own. The neon tubes, connected by bundles of wires, snaked through the holes in the walls and arched over metal lines, glowing like toxic veins in this industrial tomb. 

You had grown accustomed to it by now –the way he had to leave his mark on every piece of the city, even its forgotten underbelly. Had you been more cocky, you would have said he reminded you of a petulant cat marking his territory. 

The task was tedious, involving the precise placement of electronic components he had designed himself. You handled some of the physical work while he stood at a makeshift control station nearby, calibrating circuits, his fingers working deftly over tangled wires. His voice echoed in the tunnel, giving you instructions in his usual clipped tone, though you’d long since stopped needing them. This was definitely not the first time you'd worked together, your movements in sync like clockwork, just another cog in the machine of his larger plan. He knew this as well, yet he kept reminding you of the different steps, as to ensure he was still in control –or to convince himself you still needed him. It bothered him, how compatible you were when working together, you could see it. Churned something deep in his stomach that he didn’t like, something too domestic for his own taste.

Along one of the walls of the tunnel, there was a massive iron door –a recent addition Edward had personally designed and secured. It stood imposing, thick and unyielding, its surface etched with equations and symbols only he could solve or know the meaning of. You knew it was his safe exit, his escape route, the only way in or out of this place without being detected. It opened up to the depths of Gotham’s underworld, where he could slip in and out with ease, hidden from the prying eyes of the Bat or anyone else who dared to interfere with his schemes. This was also the exit you would use to navigate through the sewers safely.

You finished fastening another neon light into place, wiping your brow with the back of your hand as a bead of sweat mixed with the dirt and grime on your skin. The green glow intensified, casting an almost otherworldly light over the area, turning the sewer into something between a hideout and a sanctuary; something sacred that only reflected his greatness (and oh would you have knelt for him). For a moment, you looked up, watching as he bent over the control panel, the green light reflecting off his goggles glasses, painting his face with a toxic, ethereal hue. 

When he caught you looking, you exchanged a look, filled with something almost tender. You said nothing. There was no need to. This was routine by now –a normal night in the bowels of Gotham, serving the Riddler’s grand design, where every inch of this space had his mark, and every flicker of neon green was a testament to his obsession. And yet something felt different, this time. He seemed calmer, not as angry as usual. So you took it as an opportunity –silly you. Exchanged looks during the night, a passing word that almost sounded friendly. He laughed, once; one of these chanting laughs that always made your heart skip a beat.

There was a comfortable silence between you as you finished the final touches, looking at the glowing cave before gazing at his form. He smiled at you, a shy line on his face that had a taste of truce.

And then, you heard them.

Sirens, several of them, shrieking through the night above, getting closer with each passing second. Panic hit you like a jolt of electricity as you whipped your head toward the end of the tunnel. Your heart raced, and you could already see the telltale flash of red and blue lights bleeding into the sewer's entrance. Dread surged through your veins, your body trembling with fear, but it was Edward who made your stomach drop.

He stood frozen, as if he had stopped breathing altogether, eyes wide and fixed on the distant lights. This wasn’t supposed to happen. You had covered your tracks so carefully, ensured no one would ever know what was happening beneath Gotham’s streets. Yet, here they were. You could almost see the gears in Edward's mind grinding to a halt, his normally sharp, calculating expression crumbling under the weight of his horror. So close to his goal, to launching his grand plan of revenge, and now… this.

But he’s the Riddler, Gotham’s one true genius, and he won’t allow anyone to stop him, stop his revenge, not when he’s come this far. You watch as he snaps out of his stupor, squaring his shoulders, his chest rising with a deep breath. And how handsome does he look when he’s pumped full of confidence, you thought to yourself. You know in your heart that you could have followed him anywhere, all he had to do was to guide and lead you.

In one swift, commanding motion, he points toward the control panel on the other side of the platform and gives his orders, his voice sharp, decisive. He’s already regained control; or at least the illusion of it. The gates at the entrance must be closed immediately. It won’t stop the police forever; they’re flimsy at best, more cosmetic than functional, but they might buy you both enough time to escape, you figured.

Without hesitation, you obey. Anxiety vanishes, replaced by the only purpose of following his lead. You act faithfully, loyally, your heart holding no fear. Even though police officers are already yelling in their megaphones at the entrance of the sewers. Even when they order you to freeze and surrender. Your hands move with practiced precision, flipping switches, pressing buttons; closing the gates just as the distant noise of megaphones echo through the tunnel. 

They’re still too far to reach you, but you know it’s only a matter of time before they stop you. The gates clang shut with a metallic echo, sealing off the entrance, though you know it’s only a temporary reprieve. The barrier will hold them back for a short moment, but it might just be enough for you to leave the place.

You both know this is just a weak, last-minute effort to erase any trace of your presence. There’s no real stopping them. But the time you’ve bought may be enough to slip away, to sever ties with this portion of the sewers, and to vanish before the police can arrest you. And so you work, side by side with him, as the distant shouting grows louder, your escape narrowing with each fleeting second. 

Glancing back, you catch sight of Edward standing by the heavy iron door –the only true escape. It groans under the weight as he turns the large, rusted wheel, his grip firm and strong. It’s a door built to withstand anything, a final layer of security. You offer him a small smile, a reassurance, as you hastily gather your last few items from the grimy floor, preparing to join him.

But then, something freezes you in place.

You look up again, and his expression hits you like a punch to the gut. Anguish. Sadness. Guilt. It’s written all over his face, emotions you never expected to see from him. Your heart sinks, your shoulders slump, and you don’t even need to ask, you already know.

The realization crashes over you like a wave –he’s not planning to let you out.

Edward’s fingers tighten around the wheel, his lips pressed in a thin line as he averts your gaze and seals the door behind him, locking it shut with a heavy metallic thud that echoes through the tunnel. He knows the police will break through the flimsy gates with ease. Knows that the only thing that truly can buy him enough time... is you. A cruel, desperate choice. He knows that, for the police, having you is better than leaving with nothing at all.

You don’t fight. You can’t. Instead, you sink slowly to the cold, damp ground, the weight of the moment pressing down on you. Your mind goes quiet, numbed by the shock and betrayal. You don’t even hear the pounding at the gates, the crash as they finally break them open, the vicious shouts and commands.

In fact, you hear nothing at all.

Eddie?

The next morning, your body feels like it's made of bricks –heavy, stiff, weighed down by an invisible force. Your eyes are puffy, sore. You probably cried in your sleep again. Fucking nightmares. You sigh deeply, a weak trembling sound that bubbles in your throat akin to a whimper. The air is getting colder now, you realize. It’s already October, even though times and dates don’t seem to mean much to you anymore.

Breakfast is the same dreary routine: the same tasteless food, the same sense of emptiness, surrounded by the same shattered souls. You don’t touch your tray, you can’t; your stomach is tied in a knot, pulling so viciously you swear your innards could spill if you swallowed anything. “Don’t throw up in front of me” Carol threatens, but you know it’s her own way to tell you she cares, at least enough to see when you’re not alright. You scoff in false irritation and she smiles triumphantly; you wish it would be enough to soothe your soul, these small yet so particularly humane interactions.  

Despite the heaviness of your morning, something seems different today. You sense it in the air, the nervous energy buzzing around the inmates, their excitement palpable. They’re pacing, gathering in front of the hobby room’s small, dusty television, crowding it like it’s some kind of altar. Some of them whisper with each other, some of them even snicker, and all it does to you is pique your curiosity. Joining the mass, you frown, raising a curious brow, wondering what the hell is going on.

Squinting your eyes, you spot Dennis near the front of the group, staring at the screen with an almost religious intensity, his hands clasped tightly together, his face contorted into an unreadable expression. It’s hard to see the screen with so many bodies blocking your view, the low hum of whispers filling the room like a sinister background noise. It’s as if they’re all sharing some dark, unspoken secret. You push through the sea of inmates, and when you finally reach him, you tug at Dennis’ arm, snapping him out of his trance.

“What’s going on?” you murmur, leaning in as his hot breath brushes against your ear. His voice is soft, but something about it sends a chill down your spine.

“They’re coming.”

Fucking Dennis. His mind’s too far gone to make sense of anything, but there’s a weight to his words that unsettles you. You shake it off as you groan, squinting harder, stepping through the crowd until the sight on the screen makes your heart stop, then race again –pounding with adrenaline and something darker, something you can’t quite name.

There they are. Gotham’s most infamous criminals, caught last night by the Bat. Crane. Dent. Valentin. Cobblepot. Tetch. So many others, glaring at the camera when they’re not looking elsewhere, avoiding any contact, pretending nothing around them exists. And then, there’s him. Your breath stops, the blood pumping in your veins the only sound you can hear. His mugshot flashes on the screen –his face bruised and bloodied, his arrogant sneer wiped clean, replaced by a weary, furious stare. You feel a vicious satisfaction curl in your chest. Yeah, he ate shit alright. And for some reason, that makes you so fucking ecstatic. 

The asshole refused to call an attorney, as expected of him you suppose, deciding to defend himself instead. It’s almost laughable, how predictable he is. Still, you huff quietly, a bitter grin spreading across your face as the news roll, spurting informations that don’t reach you. Then, the reality of the situation truly sinks in. They’re all being sent to Arkham Asylum, pending trial.

You’re going to see him again.

The grin freezes on your face, a strange knot tightening in your gut. You’re not entirely sure how you feel about that; as if your body emptied itself of all emotions in a second, the shock too great to process. So, you do nothing. Instead, you turn, walking out of the hobby room, your mind a chaotic mess. Dennis follows you, blabbering about something frantic and unclear, something you don’t care to hear right now. Then, suddenly, his hand clasps around your wrist. You stop, turning sharply, glaring at him with an intensity that could cut through stone. His face remains blank, undeterred by your silent fury, but his brow is furrowed with something akin to concern.

“Are you okay?” he asks, his voice softer than you expected.

Fucking Dennis. You force a smile, and that’s all he needs. He releases your wrist and skips off, humming a tune you don’t recognize, while you stand there, frozen in place.

Hey, Eddie. I can't get you out of my head.

Previous chapter ✦ Next Chapter

[ffs-abalisk]

4. what is the plot bunny you’ve been carrying for the longest? optional bonus question: do you ever wonder why you haven’t written it yet and experience deep existential dread?

Optional bonus: Pick the question you most want to answer and answer it.

Hm, at this point I'd say the longest plot bunny that I have held on to is a rewrite of an old Full Metal Alchemist fanfic that I had in my early FFN days but had taken it down due to dissatisfaction over its direction (i'm apparently very picky like that).

And my reasons for having not followed through with it or, really, worked on it at all is because in my mind FMA is one of those anime that are exceedingly difficult to write for. Mainly due to the fact that the overall story is pretty well knit together and thus any "fix it" aspirations kinda just don't exist or die prematurely lol. OCs for the universe are fun to make, but once it comes down to actually writing them and the way they affect the story weeeeeeeell...

It just doesn't seem to work. Oddly enough this is a series that benefits from slice of life, not fix it fics.

And honestly? I'm not interested in revisiting canon again, I'd just watch the show again if that were to be the case. An OC would have to be pretty damn compelling for me to be even remotely interested in that kind of rehash. And if there's gonna be an AU, the butterfly effect better be significant enough to be interesting.

It is quite possible I am just looking at this at an entirely wrong angle and need a new perspective on it, but it's not really a priority for me right now and so it will sit in my WIP Shadow Realm until I get some kind of brain blast to inspire me.

--

As for what question I want to answer the most... let's see here.........

Ah how about 99. was being a writer a dream of yours when you were little? or did it spring up when your older? or is it just a hobby? 

I actually hated doing any sort of writing when I was younger... mainly due to most of the school work we were given for writing was for Essays, which for someone with ADHD like me, is the most PHYSICALLY PAINFUL KIND OF BOREDOM I have ever experienced. Thus I barely passed most of my English classes despite having a reading level of a High School student when I was in 6th grade.

But then something amazing happened... I discovered Fanfiction.net

And through it I discovered what kind of things amateur writers could accomplish, how they could improve over time, what kinds of stories they could tell outside of the canon narrative...

Suffice to say I was addicted immediately. The possibilities seemed endless

And I. Wanted that.

It was also at a time of my life that I was grasping at any sort of coping mechanism I could reach for. Home life wasn't great and I was overall in a very negative space mentally... But this gave me a way to express those feelings I wasn't allowed to show at the ripe age of 12 and I could explore different routes, different characters, and the creativity of others.

It helped me feel connected with other people in ways that no one was in real life, because while I had the mask of anonymity online, it was a lot closer to my true face than the painful mask I was forced to wear in the outside world.

So yeah, it's just a hobby for now, but is still a big part of my life and my reason for encouraging new writers because I've BEEN there, ya know? I do have the inklings of some kind of story that I may one day like to publish, but that's a tale for another time :)

Thank you asking!

[theenbynightingale]

My thoughts on TDI '23 Season 2

I'm just gonna make one big post about it because I wanna get all of this out of my system so I can focus on other things.

Okay, let me get my verdict out of the way. This season was... fine. It wasn't great but it wasn't bad. It's probably the most middle of the road season, IMO. My now former friend told me that he thought this was shaping up to be one of the best seasons when half the episodes were out. I didn't wanna label it yet because I didn't agree but I wanted to see them stick the landing. They didn't. So while I don't agree that the season went downhill, I agree that its ending wasn't very strong.

Okay, good stuff! MK and Julia friendship (and MKulia nation thriving). Loved that. I kept worried that they'd drop the ball but they never really did. They were a lot of fun and it was great seeing these two characters who outright rejected the idea of making friends grow close.

Nichelle getting better at the physical activities while not actually understanding that she had to have a social life on the island and therefore, not actually knowing how to play the game was funny.

Wayne and Raj. They're always great.

Less fart jokes. Though, it seemed like they were just saving it for the memory episode.

Owen and MacArthur cameos!

Bowie's inner conflict. I think that was a nice arc for him, especially after constantly playing dirty last season. It made sense and wasn't out of nowhere.

Zee being Zee. We love Zee. I wish we saw more of his pet raccoon.

A lot of the challenges were creative (Starting off with a Squid Game parody is very Total Drama) and a lot of the jokes were funny.

Okay, so... I can't talk too much about stuff I like without immediately following it up with "and then it kept going and it got old" so... let's get into that.

Usually, in TD, there's the writing hurdle of what to do with characters after they hook up. Usually, one of the characters leave the episode they hook up or the episode after. I admire this season for trying to break away from this formula but I think they just proved why the formula exists. Because if you keep the story going after they get together, you run the risk of it getting old. And it got old. Twice.

Ripaxel was funny... and then it got old. And gross. And then it was funny again. And then it got much worse and then they left. And then you wonder what the point of that was.

But then there's Caleb and Priya. I actually liked the story between them. And then it kept going. The moment in the memory challenge where they made up? That should have been it. The story should have been over and, as much as I love Priya, that's where she should have left. We didn't need to follow it up with another misunderstanding between them. Their story was run into the ground and it just wasn't worth caring about anymore.

There's a problem throughout the season that was evident when the very first episode leaked. After a whole season, it's revealed that Millie still doesn't listen to Priya. This is an example of the season's biggest problem: rehashing the last season.

Millie has to face the consequences of betraying her friends, breaking their trust and not putting forth a lot of effort in a challenge... again.

Zee gets eliminated because the campers somehow believed letting him in on a secret was a good idea... again.

Damien accidentally screws himself over... again.

Emma seemingly has an interesting story set up, only for it to be dropped as soon as it gets somewhere... again.

Priya grows close to someone only to reveal that they had less-than-flattering thoughts about her, only for that someone to realize how much they care about her, only for Priya to find out about the earlier stuff and a rift is formed between them... again.

Once MK is gone, Julia is the main villain... again.

So yeah. Not a bad season because nothing really upset me. I'd take it over All-Stars or PI (maybe even Action but idk). It had a lot of good stuff. But some of the good stuff either deescalated into a rehash of last season or was dragged out to the point where you stopped getting invested.

I liked Julia's hair. Mullets are terrible but she pulled it off. I'm serious. She's rocking it.

tl;dr Owen didn't age because he was never really stressed. He was the happiest of all the campers so that's why he still looks 16.

[prettysymbiosis]

frank vs. russia

starting the episode in media res and the circular storytelling!! the writing in this episode is really good overall, just so clever and inventive and effective. go off megan

“you ARE ready. everything you need is already inside you” sunny is ready to do a gay, gay-ass love story you guys. the gays are already inside it

titling it frank vs. russia when that’s clearly the b-plot? because we’re burying the lead? because we’re telling lies???

the denny’s shirt…

“aren’t you like 60?” misogyny is so sad 😞

dennis ANYBODY can get a guy to bang them ONCE reynolds

everyone wants dennis’ help but who will help dennis? :(

when mac says “it’s VERY romantic” dennis literally smacks the counter like… yikes

“one day he will and it is going to be hot” - I choose to believe this means that rcg think old man yaoi is hot and they are excited to show it :)

sunnyblr university is producing so many brilliant scholars who understand the significance of the beads as a metaphor for queerness and whether the audience is in or out and how it doesn’t matter because the queerness is all the way in and as of this episode it’s been turned up to full blast and leads us to a resounding victory. I’m just rehashing what others have said but I wanted to make sure I include it with my notes from this episode because it really is such a central idea and yet one that can be so easily missed by someone who isn’t reading the show like this... ugh the duality of sunny will never cease to confound me

dee calling mac out like yes bitch get his ass!! (so to speak)

uncle fucking jack walks in saying “they dropped all those charges weeks ago” - playdate EW - “I don’t– I don’t have any ice cream” - “shut UP dude, that’s gross, man”

charlie is so PRECIOUS in his little outfit and glasses

is he schizophrenic? I wonder if that will come up again or if it was just a throwaway joke

violent heterosexual shushing from dennis

the backing track of the sinned system/date scene is “in the hall of the mountain king” and it’s just so fucking classic sunny and so perfect

how did mac show patrick that he needed his power? and how did he engage physically?? we need to know these things!!!

kaitlin’s whole performance in the date scene is so fucking good

“the person who made him feel powerful, but also powerless.” the macdennis of it all is truly overwhelming sometimes

 the person whose validation he’s been seeking his entire life :/

“it worked” jesus christ mac

“well yeah but listen, the dennis system is a system for getting a woman. this is a system for getting a man, and that’s why sinned is actually dennis backwards!!” when I first watched this episode I was high as balls and sick with anticipation and this whole bit nearly pushed me over the edge. I mean he basically just straight up says that it’s bad for him to like men (sin) after explaining a tried-and-true system for getting them???

and then mac and dee are like “what are the chances??” and dennis is like HIGH >:( because they don’t see it. they don’t see it even though it’s been plain as day the whole time :(

dennis: “I’m still buzzin from last night” 👀👀👀👀👀👀👀👀

AND I HAVE TO BE WITH HIM oh baby boy I pray you will be

the nastiness in dennis’ voice when he says “well no, see, that’s the thing – johnny doesn’t love you. he doesn’t even like you.” glenn I’m scared of you

“they ARE my favorite” he wanted mac to realize :( and yes the crabs are deeply metaphorical

“yeah, because I AM johnny” “then who’s dennis?” “what do you mean?!” “well if you’re johnny, then who– who’s you?” one of the best sunny exchanges of all time!!!!!!!! I cannot overstate how much I love this dialogue. it just captures so much about them so succinctly go off megan!!!!!

“I can’t engage with you on this right now” great delivery rob, so funny

does dennis want to control frank like a pawn bc he felt like that’s what frank did to him? or he’s just frustrated at mac and wants a situation he feels in control of?

kaitlin’s “... yeah” when dennis asks if dee has more pills is just so funny I keep remembering it and laughing randomly

“we’re gonna need to turn the lights out.” GLENN I’M SCARED OF YOU

the POV Being Frank throwback! I love the tossing of the clothes and the blackness and the sound of the door, cool little sequence

charlie’s such a good cheerleader 🥹 his little point is so funny

do you ever wonder what danny devito might be doing with his career if he wasn’t pretending to be split in half by giant vibrating anal beads on it’s always sunny in philadelphia??

“you don’t have to do this” this one speaks for itself I think.

dennis and uncle jack, two sexual deviants having a laugh in the van :| (also the van situation is so classic sunny obvs)

mrs. mac saying “nice” god there are just so many hilarious little character beats in this episode

“I DON’T KNOW HOW ELSE TO TELL YOU!!!” :( what’s in the texts rcgm

macdennis fightin :)

the full-blast alarm sound effect just gets me every time like to me that is peak comedy

The Burning Heart by Survivor is kind of macdennis coded tbh… “It's a primitive clash venting years of frustrations / Bravely we hope against all hope / There is so much at stake” “Does the crowd understand?” “Though his body says ‘stop!’ his spirit cries ‘never!’ (omg) / Deep in our soul a quiet ember knows it's you against you” like sorry if this song was supposed to be for straight people but it’s not anymore

so there’s something there about what’s acceptable and going full blast. the mommy issues are now explicit. dennis is bisexual. and he chose to have a romantic and sexual relationship with mac while pretending to be someone else, to the point that mac was in love with this other version of him. and he was so mad mac didn’t realize that he actually played his hand and told him, and mac still couldn’t accept it, upsetting dennis further. wtf man these homos are INSANE

[hippiegoth97]

Last Christmas: An Eddie Munson x Reader Holiday Story Pt. 2

Description: You and the gang play White Elephant, opening and stealing one another's gifts. You end up with a present you least expect, and share a dance with friends. When you and Eddie take a turn on the dance floor, things get a little too close for comfort. Can you and Eddie salvage your relationship, or are you too far gone?

Warnings: swearing, female reader, drug use, alcohol use, angst, heartbreak, crying, light smut mention, fluff

Last Christmas Pt. 2

A crowded room, friends with tired eyes...

Eddie's POV

You watch silently as Y/N walks towards the rear of Harrington's humble home with Robin and Argyle to have a little smoke session. Usually you'd join them, since you're quite the stoner yourself. But you can see you're far from welcome, she wants absolutely nothing to do with you. Her words earlier, no feelings at all, ring in your head over and over. "You good, Munson?" Steve asks once the trio slide the glass door shut behind them.

"Not really. But that doesn't really matter, does it?" You say bitterly, taking a swig of your eggnog. Usually you hate the stuff, but you've been steadily consuming it to keep yourself in one piece. Seeing Y/N again feels just as awful as the day she left and never came back.

"Don't say that, man. Of course it does." Jonathan pipes up, flashing you an apologetic look. You just shrug in response, unsure of what else to say. You really wish you weren't having this conversation at all. Clearly you have no chance of getting Y/N back, so what's the point of rehashing the same old shit?

"Even so, do you guys really wanna hear about my extinct love life for the millionth time? It's Christmas, there's supposed to be music and presents and all that holly jolly crap. Maybe I should go, I don't wanna bring you guys down all night." You start getting up to leave, but everyone quickly protests. You sigh, plopping back down into your chair. You know for a fact they'd sooner tie you down than let you walk out that door. There's more of them than there are of you, and Steve is ridiculously strong. "Fine! I'll stay! But can we drop it? Please? I'm hangin' on by a thread as it is." You sniffle, exhaling sharply as tears prick your tired eyes.

"Eddie, we really think you need to have a talk with Y/N." Dustin says, looking away from the claymation elves singing about making toys to speak to you seriously.

You just shake your head, the thought of that alone makes you want to off yourself. "Nah, man. She wants nothin' to do with me. And I don't blame her." Your voice trembles slightly. Goddammit, here come the waterworks.

"I wouldn't be too sure about that, dude. Robin told me Y/N still sleeps in your old t-shirt. She used to sniff it for the scent of you when she thought Robin wasn't looking. She cried for hours when it didn't smell like you anymore. And she hums your guys' song all the time without realizing it, "Beast of Burden", right?" Your eyes widen at Steve telling you this. The possibility that Y/N doesn't completely hate you blows your mind. Since the day she walked out the door, she's never contacted you again. She had Robin pick up any of her stuff still at your place, exchanging it for the things you left with her. The only thing missing was that beat-up Mötley Crüe t-shirt, you figured you'd lost it while you were drunk or something.

"Either way, I don't think she's in the mood to talk. I don't wanna hurt her again." You really don't get why everyone seems to have planned this ambush tonight. No doubt Robin and Argyle are working their mojo on Y/N to convince her to speak with you. You'd love it if she did, but you can see it now. She's letting them have an earful, telling them to mind their own fucking business. She's so damn stubborn, it's one of the million things you love about her. Loved, you mentally correct yourself.

"But you're both sitting here like goddamn ticking time bombs. Any minute, you're bound to explode. Unless you resolve this. We're not saying you'd necessarily get back together, but it would be good for both of you to work towards being able to tolerate sitting in the same room." Nancy takes her turn now, and you just roll your eyes.

"You guys really can't let this go, can you? Why do you care so much about mine and Y/N's relationship anyways?" You finish the rest of your drink, setting the empty glass on the floor. You cross your arms in frustration, waiting for this stupid talk to be over.

"No, we can't let it go. Because you and Y/N are our friends, and we love you. And we've had to sit and watch you both be in pain for months. And none of us can make that hurt go away, only you guys can do that." Mike says, hoping you understand how hard it's been for everyone to watch you and Y/N suffer.

You sigh, dragging your palms down your face. Partially in aggravation, and partially to wipe your tears away. "Fuck! Fine! But I'm not gonna force it. If she won't talk, I'm gonna let her be. Fair enough?"

The group nods in agreement, murmuring various 'yes's and 'okay's as they finally drop the subject. "I'm gonna go get the others from outside. I'd say now's as good a time as ever to start the game." Max says, standing up from her cozying up to Lucas. She walks to the door, sliding it open before shouting into the cold. "Hey, potheads! Hurry up, it's time for presents!"

Y/N POV

"Alright, who wants to pick the first gift?" Jonathan asks, taking on the task of supervising this little game. Nobody volunteers, when Robin speaks up.

"How about we have Y/N go first?" She smiles at you, trying to get you in the spirit of things. You roll your eyes, she's incorrigible sometimes.

"Uh, sure. Step on up, Y/N." Jonathan says awkwardly. You take a deep breath, standing up slowly as the weed has finally decided to kick in. You walk over to the tree, looking over the plentiful pile of presents wrapped in shiny paper. You pick up a smaller one, leaving the larger gifts for the others. You return to your seat to open it, tearing the paper to reveal a jar of soaking salts.

"Ooh! These'll make bathtime very relaxing!" You say cheerily, showing everyone what you got. You actually really like this present, long hot baths are one of your favorite ways to relieve stress. Everyone murmurs in agreement, and Robin goes next. She gets a matching hat and glove set, which looks very cozy. Next is Argyle, who opens up a box of fancy chocolates.

"Sweet! I've got major munchies, man!" Argyle says, opening the box and taking one of the sweets out of its wrapper before popping it into his mouth.

"Well, safe to say that gift is out of play now." Jonathan shakes his head, his poor friend clearly doesn't understand the rules. Nobody seems to mind though, it's just chocolate. Next to pick a present is Nancy, who decides to steal your bath salts. You stand up to open another present, which turns out to be a Magic 8 Ball. You're less enthused about this item, but you figure one of the kiddos will take it off your hands at some point.

"Okay, my turn!" Steve says while rubbing his hands together. He picks up a gift bag, pulling a pack of warm socks from under the tissue paper. "Wow, just what I wanted." He says sarcastically, wondering if his parents secretly put a gift of their own in the bunch before leaving town.

"I will happily take those off your hands, Stevie." Eddie says, holding out his hands for Steve to toss him the socks. He catches them with ease, placing them in his lap. Your eyes meet again, and he instinctively gives you a small smile. You return it out of reflex, before realizing who you're looking at. You quickly frown instead, turning away to see what Steve reveals this time. It's a D&D starter set.

"Dammit." Steve mutters, cursing his inability to pick one of the better presents. Next up is Will, taking a chance with a larger box. He tears the paper away, revealing a portable radio.

"Nice!" Will says, very pleased with this find. Jonathan and the rest of the kids take their turns, most opting to open a brand new gift as opposed to stealing someone else's. The next six gifts are a Stephen King novel, the Star Wars trilogy on VHS, a Santa Claus mug with hot cocoa mix, a sketchbook, a knitted blanket, and a Walkman. Max steals the D&D set from Steve, deciding to give the game a try since the boys love it so much. Steve gets to pick for a third time, and he ends up with a thick, cozy scarf.

"Now this I can live with." Steve says, smirking as he’s got something he actually wants. Erica is last, taking your 8 Ball for herself. She claims she'll use it to make any and all further decisions for the foreseeable future. This leaves you empty handed once again, and there's only one gift left beneath the tree. Jonathan hands it to you, and everyone watches in anticipation to see what's inside.

You tear open the paper, pulling the lid off the flimsy box beneath. And inside, is a Santa hat. With devil horns glued onto it. Just like Eddie's. Leave it to you to end up with the gift that your ex-boyfriend brought. The room goes completely silent, and you don't know what to say. Your eyes dart across the room to him again, and he tries his hardest to silently apologize. You can feel the others watching you two, waiting to see what happens next. You look away, inspecting the hat for a moment. You rub your fingers over the fuzzy material, smiling slightly at the hand-stitched letters that spell 'SATAN' on the white brim. "You can trade with me if you want, Y/N." Robin offers, extending her gift to you.

"No, it's fine! It's a cute hat, cheeky." You giggle genuinely, it really plays into the sense of humor you and Eddie used to share. You wanna be a good sport, and not hurt his feelings. You pick up the hat, settling it on top of your head with a big smile on your face. It's very warm, but comfortable. You imagine you look a little silly, but you don't mind it one bit.

"Alright then, looks like the game is over. Anyone need a refill?" Jonathan asks, and every adult's hand goes up into the air. You may have graciously accepted your present, but the tension in the room has only gotten worse. You and Eddie keep looking at each other curiously, but avert your gaze when either of you get caught staring. "Yeah, sounds about right." Jonathan sighs, gathering everyone's glasses to head into the kitchen.

"You really don't mind it?" Eddie asks as the others move on to other activities. The kiddos open Max's D&D box, showing her how to build a character and how the game works. Nancy gets up to put on some music, picking out a Rolling Stones album from Steve's extensive collection. Some Girls, to be exact.

"Not at all, Eds. You know I love shit like this." You reply, realizing you just used his nickname. Maybe you don't need that refill after all. His eyes widen when he realizes what you said, hoping this means you'll talk to him...and maybe take him back. "Don't get any ideas, Munson. I'll get back together with you when hell freezes over." You quip, not meaning it in a hurtful way whatsoever.

"Well, we are in Hawkins in the middle of winter. I'd say that's pretty close." He retorts, making you laugh. It's been so long since he's done that, and you can't help missing it. Jonathan returns with the drinks, and you decide to throw caution to the wind and keep drinking. You're feeling warm and fuzzy inside, despite the perfect storm brewing between you and Eddie. You put it aside for the time being, focusing on enjoying the night with your friends. All your friends.

For the first time in what feels like forever, the group as a whole is able to fall back into the familiar groove you used to share. There's no more worried glances, awkward silences, or talks about your past relationship. Everyone's joking, laughing, and having a great fuckin' time. You have a dance with a few members of your little band of misfits. Steve, Robin, even Dustin. You can't stop smiling, downing a steady stream of eggnog the whole way to keep yourself merry and bright.

You're having a rather uncoordinated turn with Argyle, when the record begins to play a tune you haven't heard in an eternity. "Beast of Burden", the song you and Eddie once claimed as yours. You stop moving, noticing him walking over to you. He's taking his shot, hoping this is enough. "Mind if I cut in?" You look at him, finding his impossibly large brown eyes gazing at you expectantly. He gives you a kind smile, holding out his ringed hand.

"Fuck it! I'm pretty wasted. And everyone else has had a turn. Why not?" You reply with a hiccuping giggle. You take his hand, letting him pull you into his space. He clasps your fingers together, his other hand going to the small of your back. You put yours on his shoulder, sharing an awkward look as Mick Jagger begins to sing.

I'll never be your beast of burden. My back is broad, but it's a-hurtin'. All I want is for you to make love to me. The opening lines remind you of the first time you heard this song with Eddie. It was late one night, in the fall if you recall it correctly. You'd gone on a long drive all over town, not caring about the final destination as there wasn't really one in mind. The radio played real low, and you smoked cigarette after cigarette while staring out the window at the full moon while Eddie drove. Conversation was light, the two of you in comfortable bliss. And then the opening riff spilled forth from the worn stereo speakers in his van, prompting him to turn the volume up. "Shit, this is one of my favorites." You remember him saying, smiling at you to see if you also recognized it. You hadn't heard it before, but you listened closely to the words.

I'll never be your beast of burden. I've walked for miles, my feet are hurtin'. All I want is for you to make love to me. Eddie sang along with Mick, in perfect key at that. It was far from the first time you'd heard his deep, sultry tone. He is in a metal band, after all. But nevertheless, he enchanted you time and time again. And this particular evening from the recesses of your memory was no different. You watched his lips open and close in various shapes to form the lyrics, his face dimly lit by every passing street lamp. This dashboard performance in particular felt different from the others. He was tenderly asking you for something. To love him forever, to have him as yours the same as he wanted to keep you for his own.

You gladly granted the request, your heart soaring across the universe at the thought of never letting Eddie go. When the song was reaching its end, you had ended up at the edge of Lover's Lake. The maddening man in the sky reflected upon the still, black waters. Stars twinkled overhead, it was the most beautiful night. Eddie killed the ignition, inviting you to the back of the van like he'd done so many times before. You followed him like a moth to a flame, letting him lay you down on the mismatched blankets splayed about the floor. You made the sweetest love you'd ever had, sealing your promise that you thought would never be broken.

The two of you sway to the music, slowly rotating in a cautious waltz. You do your best to loosen up, bringing yourself a bit closer. Eddie's had a considerable amount to drink too, playfully crooning the lyrics of the song to you. Just like the old days. "Am I hard enough? Am I rough enough? Am I rich enough? I'm not too blind to see." Your smile grows wider at him singing for you, you used to love it when he did this. His voice is gorgeous, and he made you feel like the most special person in the world when he'd serenade you with your favorite songs.

The others pretend not to stare as they make their own pairings to dance. You ignore their approving glances and nods. It's like everyone else disappears, leaving only you and Eddie in the room anymore. Your movements are more fluid now, facilitated by the weed and alcohol. You let Eddie lean down to softly sing the repeating 'pretty, pretty girl' part of the song in your ear. His chest is flush against yours, and it's almost as if you've never been apart. You want so badly to just smash the walls down, and let him back in. Nostalgia and longing wash over you, tempting you to take what you've been wanting since the day you walked away.

He pulls back a moment, meeting your hazy eyes. You can see loud and clear that he still loves you, and he can tell you're mirroring the sentiment back at him. You can feel his heart pounding in his chest, the pace staying in sync with yours. Your mouths are dangerously close together, and your breath fans in each other's faces. The sickly sweet scent of rum and sugar cookies wafts between you. He tries to make a move to kiss you, and you almost lean into it. But when you really look at him, you can't help remembering how you two ended in the first place.

You drop his hand and push him away, a single tear falling from your eye. "I-I can't." You choke out the words, frantically looking at everyone staring at you.

"Y/N-" Eddie takes a step forward, reaching for your arm.

"Don't!" You back up again while shaking your head, turning away to leave the room. You push past Nancy and Jonathan, and you begin to sob uncontrollably. You make a break for the stairs, your heels thumping as you bound up each step.

"Go after her, you idiot!" Steve yells to Eddie, and you try to find a place to hide. It's too much, you can't just pretend he didn't break your heart into a million pieces. You can't act like everything's okay now, because it isn't. You hear another set of shoes coming up from the ground floor, just as you run into Steve's parents' room. You slam the door and click the lock, leaning against the wood while your chest heaves.

"Y/N?" You hear Eddie's voice from the other side. Why can't he just leave you alone?

"Go away, Eddie. I can't do this." You say through your tears, pulling the Santa hat from your head. You don't want to wear it anymore. You toss it across the room, refusing to look at it again. You slide down to the floor, your knees tented in front of you. Your head falls in your hands, tears and saliva soaking through your dress.

"Y/N, please? I just wanna talk." You can hear the pain in his voice, and you fucking hate it. You hear him shuffling to sit on the other side of the door, his own stifled cries spilling out. His hand brushes the finished wood, wishing he could feel you through it. "Baby, please. I-" He begs.

"Don't call me that! You lost the right to use that name a long time ago." You shout, turning around to face the solid barrier between you.

"Okay, okay. I'm sorry. Just...I don't wanna be like this anymore." His voice trembles, he's just as shaken to the core as you are.

"I don't either, Eddie. But what else is there? You ended us, when I thought you'd never do that."

"I know. And I'm a fucking idiot." Eddie replies through clenched teeth, he's so frustrated with himself for making such a dumb decision.

"Well, at least you admit it." You can't help cracking this small joke, making both of you laugh on either side of the door. Even though you can't see each other, you know exactly how the other's face and body language looks with every passing word.

"Steve said you still sleep in my shirt. Is that true?" He asks, unable to rein in his curiosity. You gasp at the question, Robin must've said something to him.

"Yes." You say softly, not wanting to admit it. "But only because it's comfortable." You try to make up an excuse, but you already know he doesn't believe you. "Robin said you were really messed up after I left. Is that true too?" You figure you might as well get some confirmation of your own while you're trapped in here.

"Shit, yeah. I don't think I had a sober moment for at least two weeks after you left. It was awful. But I couldn't stand to keep being reminded of you at every turn." Eddie recalls how those drunken, drug-addled days played out. He woke up late, head pounding from the night before. He'd crack open another beer, and smoke a blunt or two before breakfast. All he could manage to eat during that time was Honeycomb cereal and Poptarts. Not to say those stayed in his stomach long, far from it.

By lunchtime he'd be face-first in the porcelain throne, rejecting every last bit of sugary snacks and booze. And the cycle would continue. More alcohol, toss some cocaine in the mix, another joint, or a few. Reefer Rick even threatened to cut off his supply if he didn't stop consuming all the product. He had to work twice as hard to recoup the cost of the illicit substances. And all that did was further remind him of how he lost you.

"Jesus, Eddie. I'm sorry." You can't help feeling bad when you hear the words from his own lips. A secondhand story doesn't have nearly the same impact.

"Not your fault. I did this, remember?" This is absolutely killing you, you can't stand the sullen tone in his voice. It makes you want to unlock the door, to allow him back where he clearly belongs. But that's not enough. You can't put the past behind you and give it a second try so easily. Especially when he could just as easily break your heart again, deeming himself unworthy of you. Just like last time.

"Why did you? We had a good thing, didn't we?" You really want to understand why he made that decision all those months ago. He technically gave you a reason, but was that really enough to end a relationship?

"Of course we did, Y/N. It was the best thing I've ever had in my entire life." Eddie says, complete and total regret working its way through his body. It cuts like a knife, deep and jagged. More tears spring from his eyes, tapping wetly as they land on the hardwood floor below him. His heart aches for you more than he ever thought possible. You're so close, and yet you're a million miles away. If he wanted to act selfishly, he'd smash this damn door to pieces and scoop you into his arms. But he won't, because it's not what you want. And that's the only thing that has ever mattered to him.

"Then why?" You hoarsely croak out the words. You're fighting to swallow a wedge in your throat, it's grating and bitter. Like a lump of coal scraping your esophagus. You press your hand against the door, laying your head beside it. You want to be closer to him in this silly, small way.

"Well, it's like I said before. I didn't feel like I was enough for you. You were starting college soon, and I know you're gonna be something great." Eddie smiles slightly at that thought. You have big dreams of saving the world, changing it for the better. He'd listen to you talk for hours about cleaning up the oceans or regulating big corporations that over-pollute. Seeing your eyes light up when you cared about something made him even more helplessly in love with you. "Whereas, I'm gonna be stuck flipping burgers or fixing cars my whole life. Would you really wanna spend your days with someone like that?"

"I told you before, I didn't care about that. I just wanted to be with you. What you did for a job or how much money you had was always a non-factor for me. People do those things their whole lives, and there's nothing wrong with that." You reassure him, speaking sincerely. Just because others may look down upon those who work in 'unskilled' jobs, that doesn't make them worthless.

"But how could I provide for you when I make shit pay like that? You deserve someone who can take care of you, Y/N." You really have no idea why Eddie insists on this idea that he has to be the big spender in the relationship. It's oddly old-fashioned for someone like him.

"Eddie, did I ever say I wanted you to be the 'provider' in our relationship? You know better than anyone I don't subscribe to medieval ideals like that." You don't mean to come off so harsh, but it's a bit annoying that he seems to ignore this rather fundamental thing about you. "Plus, you provided plenty. You were kind, sweet, and loving. You comforted me in my weakest moments, and we made so many meaningful memories together."

"I know, you're right. The more I say it out loud, the stupider it sounds." He chuckles dryly, shaking his head. But there's something else, something he's kept close to the chest this whole time. You can sense the hesitation in his voice, the little hitch in his breath when he forces his tongue to hold back.

"What is it, Eddie? Please, tell me." You ask quietly, wanting to know what he's been hiding.

"I was afraid you'd outgrow me. You'd slowly earn your degree, make new friends. Then you'd no doubt go wherever the planet needs you, and where would that leave me? You'd see how big and beautiful the world is, and being with me would pale in comparison. And then you'd leave, finding a foxy marine biologist instead or something. Then you'd win some kinda Nobel Prize or some shit, and I'd still be here in Hawkins. With nothing to show for it." He realizes how silly he sounds now, how he's spent so long fantasizing about you leaving him behind.

"Thought about that a lot, did you?" You ask, unable to hide the smirk in your voice. You understand his fears, you'd probably have them too if the roles were reversed.

"Every goddamn day, Y/N." He chuckles again, but he sounds far from happy about it. Your face falls, there must be a way for him to see that his anxieties held no water.

"You do realize I would've taken you with me, right? If your hypotheticals ever came to be, I mean." You speak matter-of-factly.

"Really?" Eddie still doesn't understand, does he? Just as he claims to love you to the ends of the earth and back, you feel just as strongly. If not moreso.

"Yes, you big idiot!" You exclaim, grabbing his attention. "I would've had you by my side every step of the way. We would've moved in together while I went to school. Then after graduation you'd come with me to wherever I was interning at, until I’d eventually lead the charge in some world-saving research. And then you'd be right there in the audience while I accept my 'Nobel Prize or some shit', dressed in a cute tux and everything. And then we'd go home to our house, and our pets or plants or whatever." Eddie's eyes widen at your words, he never imagined that you would actually want to spend the rest of your life with him. Him, the metalhead, freak, loser, asshole that deals drugs.

"Thought about that a lot, did you?" He parrots your previous statement at you, drawing light laughs from both of your mouths.

"Every goddamn day, Eds." Another copied comment, and another slip of his nickname. You're headed for trouble if you don't knock it off.

"Fuck, I wish more than anything I could take it back, Y/N." Eddie says, desperately wanting this conversation to end in reconciliation. He wants you, no, needs you in his life. You're like the sun in the sky, the air in his lungs, the ground beneath his feet, the blood in his veins. You are everything to him.

"So do I." You reply simply, the tears have been steadily pouring from your eyes this whole time. As is the case with Eddie, you suspect.

"Would it be so terrible to try again? I miss you so much, it's killing me." There it is. That oh, so dangerous question. You've been simultaneously dreading it and wishing for it all night. How easy it would be to accept him back into your heart, to reignite the burning flame of love you used to share.

"I miss you too, more than you know. But I don't want to get hurt again. I can't go through the hell you put me in a second time." You sniffle, unable to stop yourself from remembering the endless sob-fest you had at Robin's for the first few days after your breakup.

"I promise, I will never let you go again. I'll never be so fucking stupid." He pleads, yanking at your heartstrings.

"But how do I know for sure, Eddie? I was under the impression that the first time would never come, and it did. Who's to say you won't break us to pieces again when things get tough?" As much as you'd love to be together again, you have valid reservations about the prospect.

He doesn't say anything else for a minute, carefully considering what you've said. He feels so fucking awful for hurting you, and he wants to prove himself worthy of a second chance. "What if we move in together?" He blurts out, as it's the first step in your little fantasy about the future.

You scoff, he can't be serious. "Eddie, you don't have to jump the gun like that."

"I'm serious. I wanna be with you, commit to a life with you. What better way to do that than to get a place together? We could look after New Year's if you want. I think there's a place by-" His tone is frantic now, eager to sell you on the idea.

"Eddie, slow down!" You shout, interrupting his babbling. He shuts his trap, his teeth clacking at the force. "Look, it's really sweet of you to offer. But I think we would need time to get reacquainted first, to see if this would even work again." He perks up at your words, hoping this means you're saying yes to him.

"I'm sorry, you're right. But, does that mean we can give this another shot?" He asks expectantly, crossing his fingers and praying to whatever God is up there that you'll take him back.

You sigh, shaking your head as you giggle at the thought. "I can't believe I'm actually saying this. But yes, we can try again, Eds." You say as you stand up, clicking the lock to open the door. Eddie falls forward into the room, almost smacking his head on the floor. You shriek in surprise, and he bounces back up in no time. He scrambles to his feet, his eyes meeting yours for the first time in what feels like hours. He laughs awkwardly, blushing hard as he rubs the back of his neck. You giggle in reply, rolling your eyes at his clumsiness.

You move closer to him, wrapping your arms around his neck while his go around your waist. You're standing in the threshold of the room, looking up to see some mistletoe hanging right above your heads. "Well, would ya look at that? Seems like the Harringtons have the right idea." Eddie says, returning his gaze to yours. The air between you is different now. It's no longer somber and heartbroken, but filled with unbridled joy and a dash of booze-fueled lust.

"That they do." You reply, just barely above a whisper. You can't stop staring at each other's lips, the familiar scent of Christmas treats dizzying your heads in your proximity. Eddie's just about to bring his lips to yours, when-

To be continued...

[scarlettrose567]

MyHouse.Wad: What a fucking trip

Just finished MyHouse.wad. And goddamn, just goddamn. First of all, it is a fucking fantastic game let alone considering it's a free mod, easily on par with the original doom in terms of quality.

My overall impression is that this is a type of game that could ONLY come out as a mod. I mean, can you imagine say the next Call of Duty game where you can beat the whole thing as normal, but if you dig deeper it has a whole separate game exploring an endless house?

That all being said, two main gripes

The final fight was waaay too large/long, and if it was half the size it would be twice as impactful imo.

Ending is somewhat underwhelming, although that's somewhat inevitable since it's not going to straight up tell you what happens.

Oh yeah and 3) The labyrinth.

I love the idea of the labyrinth, however wish it was developed slightly more. I don't want there to be any enemies, but maybe a scrap of story or flavor would've been warmly welcomed. As is it's completely optional and you can't do anything apart from leave. However, it is indeed very unnerving (loved the touch of having the doors you open while inside being louder than average when they close by themselves).

Oh yeah, plus the blood appearing in the airport's bathroom did feel a bit janky/random and somewhat frustrating to trigger.

But in general it's all in the spirit of what it is trying to accomplish, and it absolutely excels in making you feel on edge, like the House is trying to get you to leave while drawing you in further and further.

But, you may be asking, what about the central mystery? What the heck is MyHouse.wad about anyway??

So, I won't rehash the exact wording (you can find that online easily enough), but to put it simply the creator of the mod is allegedly brushing up an old .wad file found in the floppy disc of a deceased childhood friend, and a journal as a word document plus some photos are attached to the mod when you download it.

Reading over the journal, a few odd section stuck out to me. He mentions that an old childhood friend passed away, and yet the very next day he writes "I never imagined that I would be saying goodbye to my friend so soon." Not something you would say about someone you only knew when you were a child, and hadn't been in contact with for years.

He starts working to restore and add things to the .wad he found. Over time, he becomes increasingly obsessed with it and it starts to affect his dreams.

He dreams about a house burning down, and finding a still born baby in the attic, of being hunted and finding refuge in a cave...

Something *very* strange happens on Dec 16. He seems to revert to a childhood persona, writing "it'll be nice to have some time away from the school", despite mentioning his job earlier, and "i'm sure they'll be a lot of fun and there wilL be plenty of laughter and good times". The day after he makes a comment about lack of sleep.

He dreams more. He dreams his reflection winks back at him, that he enters his bathroom mirror and finds comfort in that strange world.

He dreams he is in a car crash, then a plane crash. He survives the car crash. He does not survive the plane crash.

Valentines day: "Happy Valentines day to the only person I ever loved. For a short time, you brought a little happiness to this painful existence called life. I hope we can be together again one day. In the meantime… I’ll keep looking for that other someone who can be the ray of light in my life that you turned out to be."

He mentions how "After 13 years" he finally has the skills to finish the map, despite him mentioning he worked on it first 20 years ago with his childhood friend, according to the original description for the .wad.

He writes how the map is altering code by itself, growing when he's not looking;

"Without my guiding hand, the map doesn’t know what to build. But I can help it. Guide it. It seems to respond to my designs, changing them to match my emotional state. It knows what I’m feeling. It knows how Thomas felt."

He dreams of lying on a beach, safe and content, only to realize it is all fake. He writes about the agony of a heaven, and eternally being tormented by your own anguish, and how lucky his winking self is, to live a mortal life on a real beach, finding happiness in the small things he can control.

He finally publishes the mod, with no further entries apart from how he managed to publish a "safe" version. He won't allow the House to corrupt anyone else.

So, what to make of it all.

First and obviously, he clearly knew his childhood friend a lot more recently than his childhood, and the Valentine's Day strongly supports the fact they were partners - however, I do think they weren't in contact for at least a few years before his friend died. The "13 years ago" comment, plus the fact that items in the mod state "It was not to be" when picked up suggest that they were together for a time after, but then broke up. Both the crash and plane crash suggest something went wrong - maybe they fought, maybe there was an actual physical action - who knows. The airport section of the map further suggests that perhaps one or both of them traveled away from where they grew up? Moreover, the creator's comments about a "mirror version, happy on that other beach" suggests that maybe he made a mistake, and he's tormented knowing in another universe he could have been happy with his partner.

During the Brutalist area of the mod, you find two dogs - one completely harmless, the other a two headed monster that can kill you relatively easily if you aren't careful. But if you kill one, the other dies as well. Similarly, they can never meet each other. That could be a metaphor for their relationship - they couldn't be together, but couldn't bear being apart either.

However, there is of course a far darker possibility. A few items in the mod tell you "I want pop", and "The boy deserves a milkshake." This suggests a father-son relationship of some kind. Indeed, the very first area outside the house itself is a nursery for very young children, suggesting at some point he and his childhood friend adopted a child at some point. However, the fact that the house can burn down at some point, plus the constant dreams of disaster and the stillborn child could point to the fact that the child died somehow, possibly in a violent manner. If this is true, this would explain why they broke up, and why the original creator buried the memory - it was simply too traumatic to think about, until the death of his former partner forced these memories up to the surface, leading to him creating this mod as a coping mechanism. His comments about dealing with his own thoughts for eternity also suggest this - he could not bear to think about what had happened over and over and over again without being able to change anything.

The constant use of mirrors within the mod also tells us how much he wishes things had turned out differently - how he wants to live in a different dimension altogether, where this didn't happen, where he remained with his partner. The fact that if you leave the house without grabbing all the items might suggest they also sold (and potentially demolished) the house itself.

The house that can never leave his mind.